2020-07-05 - 'Murica!

Vic is dressed for the party, in a blue string bikini top, denim daisy dukes, and a sleeveless red and white striped cardigan that is left unbuttoned, and red flip flops. Her hair is down, light brown with blonde highlights streaking through it. The sweater is an odd addition, but serves to cover her back, which always seems to be covered up. The rest of her is very much on display. Something something TIPS something. She might also have a Cherry Bomb all to herself at an outdoor temporary bar where she's slinging drinks for the festivities.

"It's kinda hilarious how the drink specials are like 80 per cent sugar except the one joke drink," says Tor to anyone who might be close. He's claimed a table just outside the door so he can run cables for his (very) makeshift DJ setup. He never set out to become a DJ, but the DJ life chose him after a couple of times of playlist roulette and an AUX cable to a set of speakers. He actually worked a little harder this time, and even has some rudimentary DJ software on a tablet. The speakers were borrowed from an open mic setup and he's currently futzing, trying to make sound come out of both speakers. There's been some feedback.

Sam steps into the festive seaside cottage-shack hoping to get himself a nice spot for the promised fireworks. He is not -quite- fully readjusted to the significantly less dry and hot Gray Harbor summers, but the overcast skies were enough to persuade him against coming in with a silly wide-brimmed hat and flip-flops. He keeps it to the striped red-and-white t-shirt, khaki shorts and leather boat shoes. A pair of sunglasses are perched atop his head. Smart casual.

Sam moves to immediately claim the smallest table next to the largest window. "I'll take the joke drink!" He calls out, en route. He has no idea which one that is.

"Shh!" Bennie warns playfully, her blue eyes big and round and overdramatic at Tor, following it up with some muttered thing about profit margins. Which as become a THING for the Blonde in this new chapter of her life. Alas, there is no one left to wear the mullet in the family, and Bennie isn't about to take up that particular mantle. Instead, she's taken the memo from Vic and worn a flag inspired bikini top, denim mini skirt (emphasis on mini), her grey cowboy boots and a foam Statue of Liberty hat. Because: 'Murica!

The pizza boy gets a snort from Vic and she tosses a bourbon-soaked cherry at him. "The bourbon kills most of the oversweet," she explains, "try it." She pops one in her own mouth and chews away at it to hope it numbs some of the interactions with tourists. The locals she can tolerate. The DJ who happens to have healed her up for cash once, and is part of her real job, she can tolerate. Her pseudo-boss she can tolerate, and even feel bad for, due to Marshall having gone walkabout on the other side and getting Lost.

Vic then glares at Sam for ordering the abomination on the menu. She nevertheless brews an expresso shot and drops it in a beer before setting it in front of the young man with a quietly muttered, "Your funeral."

So Joe makes an appearance....and the sailor's only in t-shirt and jeans. The t-shirt depicts Armstrong planting the American flag on the moon, and reads 'Finders Keepers'. He looks tanned and windblown and contented, with that roll in his stride that means he's just got back from a day out at sea. "I'mma have an Apple Pie, please," he says, with his most winning smile, as he drops onto a stool at the bar.

Tor is not dressed patriotic. That isn't his style. But the tank top he's wearing has some blue...some red? It's striped and faded. He wears some kind of pendant around his neck and a hemp bracelet. His denim board shorts are almost more rips than pants. He sucks in air between his teeth at Sam's order. "Bad news, man. Bad news. It's only funny to the people around out." He sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek and makes it pucker. He just grins at Bennie and tugs his ear to indicate he heard her, then winces as the feedback screeches the speaker again. But then, wonder of wonders! the Beach Boys' California Girls starts to play mid-second verse. He nearly misses Vic's cherry chucking, and as it is, kind of has to juggle it. He gives it a sniff. "Ugh, I hate bourbon." And eats it anyway.

Sam eyes the concoction Vic puts in front of him warily, and squints. That was not the color he was expecting. "But... why, though?" He seems to ask no one in particular - perhaps he was asking the universe as a whole. Well, it is literally what he asked for. He takes a timid sip before his face screws up like he'd just swallowed a bug, but it isn't quite enough for him to fess up to his terrible mistake. Yet.

Lucas slips in quietly, he's wearing a blue GHFD shirt and red suspenders, jeans and white cowboy boots of all things. He seems to be happy and relaxed, since it is one of his first days off in a long time. He heads up to the bar and asks Vic for an Apple Pie.

Vic gives Joe's t-shirt a glance, squints at it, and grins a little. "How you doing, Cavanaugh?" she asks. He is a favorite author after all. She mixes up his Apple Pie moonshine death shot thing and sets it in front of the sailor. "Been out on the water today?" she asks him, almost conversationally. Wait, she's being nice to a customer, mark it on the calendar!

Tor's comment on bourbon has her frowning again though, and muttering, "heathen," at him under her breath. The grin returns though, when Sam takes that drink of the abomination. Ah, taking pleasure in the pain of the customers, that's more like the Amazonian bartender.

Lucas gets a nod and another apple pie shot is mixed up and set in front of the young firefighter. Her state of mostly undress has been good for tips so far, Bennie is probably doing even better.

Bennie cants her hip sideways, giving Tor a bump. "Thanks for doing this." She says now in case she forgets later. The blonde then scoops up a tray of food and starts making the rounds. It's not her job, per se, but she's far more comfortable waitressing than she is running the joint but that's why she pays a manager, right? But all tips she tends to make at TiBS go right in the jars at the bar for the staff to split up later. Swinging by Sam first, "Customer appreciation day, want some of my meat? Um. I mean. A hotdog. Hamburger. Not my meat meat. Not that I have meat. My meat's missing. Food?"

Joe turns that smile on Vic - warm, relaxed, delighted to be there. And that's before the booze, even. Luckily, he's a sweet-tempered drunk, though he hasn't started in on his own usual favorite bucket of bourbon concoction. "I surely have," he agrees. "Gorgeous day for it. And I'm doin' just fine." He's got that Georgia coast accent that drawls syllables out like taffy stretching. Just faaahhhn. "Not workin' too hard, I hope?"

"Can I have a good ole fashioned beer when someone gets a second? No espresso shot, please and thank you." Tor tap-taps something on his tablet and experiments with cross-fading the Beach Boys song with American Girl by Tom Petty. He winks at Bennie, "Hey, when someone DJs for free, you get what you paid for." He side-eyes Sam a moment, cocks his head, studies his face a bit. "You're a returner aren't you?" And to Vic's barb? He crosses himself with middle finger extended.

Sam clearly is not taking another sip, but he politely pretends he just might eventually. When Bennie swings by his way and mercifully offers something that could get rid of the foul aftertaste, he perks up and offers a smile. "This customer appreciates it," he answers, and helps himself to a hot dog. He takes her comment about her meat in stride. "Worry not, I'm not a cannibal. Just a terrible drink order-er."

Sam wolfs down a bite... and now his mouth is filled with the taste of coffee, beer, and hot dog. "Maybe I should get a glass of water..." He finally relents.

Tor's words draw his attention, and he gives the other man a quick study. "I am. And you're... a stayer? I know you from somewhere, don't I? But I haven't been here since..." Sam rubs his chin. "Tom? Tim? From school?"

Vic offers Joe one of the bourbon-soaked cherries in the glass she's kept for herself. "Try one of these, it'll make the world new for you," she quips to him with a wink. As for working hard, "Ehn. This isn't what I consider hard work. Just work." Her other job, that is the hard one. This is just the cover for that one. She pours Tor a draft in a plastic cup for out here on the deck, and then looks amused at Sam. She must be in a good mood though, because she takes pity on the guy and gets him a glass of water.

"Don't be too much of a man. Just admit that concoction is a disaster, and order something normal," she advises Sam, leaning an elbow on the bartop. God bless patriotic jiggling.

"Don't mind if I do," Joe says, and then lets Vic feed him the cherry. "Thanks," he tells her, after chewing it with evident relish. He does not, however, do the trick where you tie the stem in a knot. The apple pie thing may be sweet enough to put off most, but he seems happy with it. But then, considering where he's from, wasn't he weaned on moonshine? Content to prop up the bar in the usual place, only half-attending to the music.

"And I appreciate you appreciating it! And not being all Hannibal. I don't pair well with Chianti." Bennie shoots a wink at Sam before she sweeps away with her tray, pausing so someone can snag a hamburger and then again to great someone with a quick kiss to the cheek. Then, "Lucas!" She finally spies her GHFD buddy, even though they roll on different rigs, he a firefighter and she an EMT. Well. Usually. Tonight she's a beach bunny serving up grub.

"I am indeed," says Tor to Sam to the terms they might have both just made up. "Had short hair back then. Well. Senior year. Tor Lockhart." The delinquent who was too smart for his own damned good and once got in a schoolyard fight that led to a broken gym window. When the plastic cup holding beer arrives, he salutes it to Vic before sipping. He is not a man of sophisticated (or brave) tastes. As long as it gets him drunk.

"Hey Ben!" Lucas smiles and greets her with a hug, "This seems to be a nice party, plenty of good scenery and libations. " He pushes a 10 into the tip jar. "How have you been?"

Vic chucks Joe lightly under the chin after he takes the cherry. "There you go, handsome. Happy Fourth." She pops a cherry into her own mouth and looks happy about that big tip Lucas left. She chin tips at Tor when he salutes her with the beer and she's almost acting like a regular bartender. "Want anything else, Joe? Whiskey? Bourbon? Nother shot? Take me out on that boat?" She winks. God is she flirting?

Sam dips his head to Vic, in a defeated nod. "I'll make sure I read the menu first, next time. Terrible when two great things separate make something so ghastly when put together." As promised, he peruses a nearby menu, while silently appreciating the patriotic jiggle. "I'll get a 'Red, White and FU'."

The name makes his face light up in abrupt recognition. "Ah yes, Tor! I really should have remembered that. You look like a Tom, though. Might be the hair." The hotdog was momentarily abandoned. "You passed advanced lit and barely went to class. I'm surprised you stuck around."

"Well, now that you ask, I think I'll stick with another Apple Pie," Joe says. The ink on his fingers is likely new to her, though it looks well-healed. Still bright and vivid, ocean blue and black. The touch makes him laugh, softly. "What, you fancy a tour? She's little, I hope you don't get seasick easy." Tone easy, bantering - is he actually taking her seriously?

Bennie gives Lucas a warm hug and a little kiss on the cheek. "Why Lucas Lake you better not be flirtin' with me. You'll give me a big head, and my hair is already defying engineering feats of a tease and hairspray. Or did you mean the sea?" Her sunny smile makes her eyes scrunch up like she's blinding even herself with it. "Thanks for coming out. Good to see the station representing."

"Where the fuck else was I supposed to go?" says Tor to Sam as he licks a bit of dribbled beer off his thumb. "On the other side, most people who get out don't come back." Sweet Home Alabama comes on next. Someone's keeping it predictable - at least early in the evening. Then, "Hey, Bennie. We ever gonna have another queer night? Or does the Jewish beanpole have to call out the troops?"

God hopefully not. She's horrible at flirting and probably a nightmare to date. Also a terrible human who does terrible things. Just ask Ruiz. Vic does mix Joe up another shot though with a chuckle. "I don't get seasick, no. Though she's probably a lot smaller than the boats I've been on before." Those would be yachts. Sinaloa Cartel yachts. Terrible places. Don't go on them. It looks all fancy and shit, but then there's screaming, and dying, and enough drugs to kill Godzilla. She pours the apple pie into a shotglass for him and sets it on a bar napkin. Then there is a Red, White, and FU being combined for Sam. She sets it before the kid and smiles. "This one tastes much better, promise."

Ruiz has not been out and about as much of late, and likely to no one's real surprise; he's got a target the size of the state of Texas on his back. The Mexican prowls in with a heel-toe thump of boots, hands jammed into the pockets of his hoodie, sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he surveys the crowd with a critical eye. Is he armed? Of course he's fucking armed.

Those're apparently exactly what he goes for, that particular flavor of terrible, if his recent track record is any kind of a pattern. "That's good," Joe says, lifting the shot to Vic in salute, before he knocks it back. "But yeah, she's only a thirty-six footer. Big enough to get me from Savannah to here, though." There's a little flush appearing, courtesy of those doses of moonshine - the blue eyes going bright.

Sam lifts one brow at Tor's answer. "Literally... anywhere else? With talent like that, 'world is your oyster' is no longer figurative.'" There's a contemplative pause before he continues. "Though I guess if you don't have anywhere else you'd -want- to go, then it doesn't matter much."

Vic conjures up his order, and Sam whistles lightly as he appreciates the slight artistry. "No doubt. It certainly -looks- better." He brings it to his lips and he finally gets the last of the horror drink out of his mouth.

Vic is definitely not armed. There is seriously nowhere to be armed in the tiny outfit, but then again, she's never relied on firearms to take down people before. She leans on the bartop, giving Joe an eyeful of cleavage with a quirk of her brows. "Well then, I'll take you up on that when I'm not working sometime." And then there is her arch nemesis or whatever coming through the door.

She opens her mouth, prepared to shout something to Ruiz to piss him off, but then pauses. Not because she chickens out or has a change of heart, because her phone vibrates in her back pocket. Not her iPhone. Her flip phone-prepaid-sneaky-stuff one. She glances at a text and grunts. " Bennie, I need to take my break now. Will be back later though." Which is Vic speak for, 'real work to be done, may or may not be dead later.'

Tor snorts at Sam. "Talent. Memorizing high school lessons isn't talent," he drawls. "My family doesn't have any money, man. What was I gonna do? Beg for a scholarship somewhere and then...do what?" Probably more than deliver pizzas, but the Lockhart family is one of those particular small town ones that has a tar-like grip on its members, holding them in place. The more they struggle, the tighter it grips. So it's easier to just let yourself sink. It's kind of hard to miss Captain Swagger entering the room. His way of greeting? He taps a few menus on his tablet and then suddenly the theme from COPS starts to play. He only lets it play for a short time before fading it into 'I Fought the Law.'

Bennie's attention is a fickle thing, especially when staff is trying to flag it down. She puts a hand on Lucas' shoulder, begging a, "'Scuse me." As she starts to approach the little outdoor bar, which most of the customers seem to be huddled towards because alcohol. "Yeah, no problem, Vic. I'll pull someone from inside out to handle the bar." Because No One wants Bennie pulling out her Bartending for Dummies book right now. "Dela la! EEEEeeeeEEE!" And then she's on a collision course with the interim Police Chief.

"Having a good memory is definitely a plus. Not gonna argue that it was like wading through Harvard, but..." Sam takes another slurp of his new, much more tasty drink. The hot dog was no longer hot, but that's what happens when one is distracted. "And I'm not gonna argue with you, and I'll take your word on... well, yourself and your circumstances." Sam did not know nearly enough, and they were presumably here to have a good time.

He scans the other patrons, now that they have multiplied in number. His gaze falls on Lucas and lingers for a longer moment. "You look familiar, too. Weren't you on the football team?" This trend of recognizing faces before names continues.

Lucas watches Bennie slip away, and chuckles slightly to himself, with Vic's departure as well he just settles into a seat at the bar and sips his apple pie waiting to see what will happen.
Hearing Sam he nods, "Yeah I was, class of 2014...you were at Addington to right? A couple years older"

"You do that," Joe says. But then there's Ruiz, and he's turning on his stool. The wattage on that grin has only dialed up to a near incandescence. Apparently the surly Mexican was the one he's been waiting for. "Hey, Javier," he says. A casual greeting, but the tone makes it plain that it's anything but. Bennie's passage has him warning, "Incoming. Looks like she's cleared hot."

Vic puts the phone away and she gives Joe one last wink before she sashays her way back into the bar proper and out through the employee exit, to her truck. When Joey Kelly calls, you do what he says.

Arch Nemesis McSnarlyMexican, judging by the look on his face at this present moment. Or, maybe it's the fact that Vic is practically sticking her tits in Joe's face. Which isn't to say that he doesn't look, too, because he totally does. Who wouldn't?

"Hola, Bennie," he greets the tall (taller than him) blonde on a collision course with a grudging chuckle and a one-armed hug. And "Lockhart," gets a rap of knuckles to his shoulder, assuming he manages to extricate himself from the incipient bartender. Then a quick kiss for her cheek before he slings into a chair next to the blond Georgian who's halfway into his cups. He smells crisp and clean; like rain, clove smoke and cordite, and reaches for Joe's glass without asking, to steal a sip with a brush of fingers and accompanying murmur to the older man.

Rose strolls over to the bar from.. somewhere, probably? There's the telltale clink of an empty bottle being set down, and the telltale glance of someone in need of another drink. Her eyes search for the woman who'd sold her the previous cider, but she's gone. Hmm.

Bennie's ...exuberant? exclamation and direct flight towards Ruiz grabs Rose's attention, a smirk appearing on the woman's face before looking back behind the bar, head doing that little bobble back and forth to try and get a bartender's attention.

It's the remainder of an Apple Pie - apple and cinnamon and moonshine. Practically designed for Joe. He gives one of those expressive little shrugs, accompanied by moue and spreading of inked fingers, a little murmur of his own. Maybe 'I dunno'. Maybe 'you know I'm just that good'. "Whatcha drinkin'?" he asks, even as he turns around to see who's lined up, now that Vic's gone on her break. "I'm likin' these Apple Pies, think I'll get another." Drunk redneck ahoy.

Sorry, Ruiz. Bikini tops seemed to be the order of the day for the staff. There are boobs everywhere. Bennie in her American Flag one gives Ruiz an enthusiastic squeeze before it's followed by a serious look into his eyes. It's gone in a flash though, nothing to see here! He's off to settle next to Joe and Bennie is waving in another staffer to take over bartending duties. "I'm all for another Queer Night. With loud obnoxious House Music. And maybe karaoke. Anything to draw Easton back right?" She beams back at Tor, invoking all the irritants she can think of when it comes to Easy and the Twofer.

"So what the fuck brought you back?" says Tor to Sam. Not exactly the vocabulary of the guy who waltzed through AP Lit, but. "Don't forget moving furniture," he adds to Bennie. He swallows a healthy mouthful of his beer, then chugs the rest of it. Might as well get the party started in earnest. "All right. Who wants to do a fuckin' tequila shot?" Hey, he's not really working. He's playing at DJing, so he's gonna drink.

Sam snickers lightly at Lucas when he guesses right. "I'm mildly flattered that you remember me. I was on the baseball team but I wasn't any good at it," Sam confesses. His gaze flickers over to Bennie, then back to Lucas. "You've stuck around, too. You're a firefighter now?"

He glances back to Tor. It looks like he's mulling just how much detail he wanted to get into. "Unfinished business, naturally. The dead don't always rest easy," he mutters. The hot dog is finally remembered and tended to.

He nods his eyes watching Bennie as she makes her rounds, "Yeah....went to the local college, then joined the department. Worked with my dad a while till he retired"

Bennie points at Tor excitedly, "Yes. Furniture moving. And the color pink." Clearly she's making a mental list here. But tequila shots? Tequila shots she can most certainly handle, and she steps behind the little bar and grabs a bottle and starts setting up a line of glasses. "Who's in? On me." Giving away free alcohol is a perk.

"Why not" Lucas smiles and holds up a finger in Bennie's direction.

American Flag bikini? Ruiz is right fucking there, ogling the shit out of it. Might be he'd be doing more than ogling, if a) he were a little more drunk, and b) that wasn't Easton's girl. But ogling will have to do.

His gaze switches back, eventually, to the blond beside him. Whose drink is nudged back, accompanied by a bit of a grimace. "The fuck is this girly shit?" Then someone, Tor probably, says something about tequila shots, and he's already digging out his wallet in anticipation.

Tor sets the makeshift DJ equipment up to play a couple of party favourites in a row then steps up to the bar. "If not enough people join in, I'll drink all the damned shots myself. And then you aren't gonna like the playlist." He also nods to one of the other bartenders to get another beer. Shots aren't drinks on their own. Shots are in addition to a main drink, after all.

Sam nods firmly back to Lucas. "Good. Less concussions. I'm a reporter for the Gazette - perhaps we'll work together, sometime." He side-eyes the glasses being lined up on the bar. "I should finish what I already have, first." He clearly isn't opposed to watching the show, however.

"Oh, that's someone's mating call right there," Joe retorts, amused. His gaze following Ruiz's, and he mutters something under his breath to the cop, before he lifts a hand to request a shot of his own, like a good student after the teacher's attention. More loudly, he says, "That's an Apple Pie, and it's made of moonshine and is damned good." Well does he know the taste of white lightning.

What Bennie lacks in accuracy she makes up in quantity, or something. She didn't plunk down shot glasses but rocks ones, six in all. She doesn't dress the edges with salt and is spilling a bit on the bar but she runs the mouth of the bottle until all have roughly a double worth of tequila in them. Pushing them over in front of people, she sucks a dribble off her thumb.

Tor eyes the line of not-shots and picks the one that Bennie overfilled the most. "We doing this with lime and salt or just throwing a shit ton of booze in our faces?" He doesn't seem fussed either way it's going to shake out. Suddenly, Margaritaville starts to play. That was not a coincidence.

Lucas smiles reaching out to pick up one of the not-shots himself he looks Bennie dead in the eye and upends it down his throat, taking a moment or two to swallow it all, before putting the glass down and breaking eye contact.

Sam seems content to wallflower it up and finally finish his hot dog. He counts the amount of glasses in his head.

Bennie's head cants at an angle of curiosity as Lucas does his shot, distracted for a moment from Tor's question. She blinks back into reality, her smiling beam rivaling that of her ahem headlights. "Naked or dressed, how ever you like it best!" She plunks down a salt shaker in front of Tor and grabs a lime herself, toasting everyone with a sweep of her glass. "To America." Before downing the shot with a little wiggle of a, "Yeech." Don't worry, few more of these and they won't burn so much, but she soothes it by sucking on that wedge of fruit.

"Hear, hear," says Joe, lifting the shot he's been given. Salt and lime for him, too. This might go a ways towards reconciling him towards his long dislike of tequila. "To America," A beat, and he adds, "Land of the free, because of the brave."

"Ay ay, returner. Pick up a soup bowl of fuckin' tequila. It's the 4th of July," says Tor as he motions to Sam. "No wallflowers allowed. C'mon." Meanwhile, he licks his arm, dusts it with salt, licks his arm, shoots the generous two-shotter, then chomps on a lemon. He slaps his hand on the bar, then sweeps up his beer to swallow a few hungry mouthfuls. "Few more of those and you won't feel much at all."

Ruiz reaches past Joe to snag himself a shot of tequila, too. "Aquí está a la memoria del hombre eso levantó el maíz eso alimentó al ganso que llevaba la pluma eso hizo la pluma eso escribió la Declaración de Independencia," he proclaims all in one musical mouthful, before tipping the glass back and downing it all in one go. Clack goes the empty, upside-down on the bartop, with an expectant look thrown his companion's way.

Lucas shakes his head "Sam wants to bow out let him, Peer pressure sucks and is no way to conduct yourself." He grins a little, "besides more for us"

Sam scoffs at Tor. "I didn't see a sign," he retorts, but nevertheless stands and mosies over to the bar to take a glass. And one of the limes. He raises the glass to Lucas, when the guy tries to half-heartedly stick up for him. "I'll give in just this once, like a true American. But thanks."

That that old toast is delivered in the musical flow of Mexican Spanish has Joe laughing in delight, and elbowing Ruiz. He's definitely got enough booze in him to be properly buzzed, and that's all to the good, it seems. "You tell 'em, baby," he says, warmly. Then he's looking around inquiringly, in hopes of either another free shot to come wandering by....or another one to add to his tab.

Bennie has ZERO idea of what Ruiz has said, beyond: "Declaration of Independence!" To that she cheers brightly just as the first pops start echoing off shore and bright plumes of color explode across the sky. Fireworks to accentuate the evening rather than cap it off, because there is much more drinking to do and there are still cupcakes to be had!

"Fuckin' peer pressure? We're not in goddamn high school," says Tor with a snort to Lucas. "And it was a goddamn invitation, not an arm twist." He rolls his eyes and swallows more of his drink, then pats Sam on the shoulder as he steps up. "S'allright. Most of us took the ones Bennie overfilled so it should only make your head swim a little." He has no idea what Ruiz said but there was something in there that sounds like independence so he'll lift his dwindling beer in a salute. And then the sky is popping with colour. He lets of a hoot over the noise.

"It's all fine," Sam reassures. Then his brow lifts once again when Tor attempts to reassure him that his chosen drink is not as big as the others. "Making heads swim is the point, isn't it?" And with that, he downs the shot in a giant swallow. It evokes a cringe, before quickly chases it with the lime slice. One eye cracks open, followed quickly by the other, when he hears the pop of the fireworks going off. "Ah, there they are. Thanks for the free drink," he chimes in Bennie's direction, then he departs from the bar to go watch what he ultimately came here for.

In his awesome red-white-and-blue-framed sunglasses, Graham makes a late appearance? Is it late? He's almost definitely too drunk to know whether or not it's late. His head peeks in, over-bright eyes scanning the crowd in here - nope, nope, nope, ohey, he knows a couple of these people, there's an upnod toward Tor. That upnod becomes a more pronounced reel backward when there's a cop in here, "Motherfuckers're everywhere." But that's not who he was looking for, so he scratches the top of his head and takes a step closer. "What happened to the guy - " His question goes unfinished 'cause ooooh, pretty, he watches, drunkenly happy.

Sure, it's unexpected. Maybe even a little bit ridiculous. But de la Vega's unapologetic for it. He chortles low, rough and smoky, and reaches for the beer that's magically appeared near his hand since he disappeared that shot of tequila a few moments ago. The elbow, and the words that follow inspire him to lean in and steal a kiss, surely not intended to be timed with the rapidfire pop, pop, pop of fireworks going off. But hell, maybe it was. Maybe he's just that good. Lucky for Graham, he doesn't even notice the guy (that he totally arrested that one time) walk in. Because he's busy, yo.

He should be used to Javier doing as he damn well pleases. That's been the tradition for almost three decades now, from their foolish youths to the present day. But it still surprises Joe, this one, the blue eyes going wide for a startled instant before they close. His hand leaves the bar to twine fingers momentarily in the cop's dark hair. Fireworks he's seen before....this, this is still new and novel. Busy, indeed. He's delighted to be a distraction.

Lucas smiles as Ruiz sneaks a kiss during the fire works, sharing a look and a raised eyebrow with Bennie, then as Sam leaves he waves good by and turns back to Tor, "Yeah well....not a lot has changed since High School for most people it seems "

Happy fireworks, Dela la PDA, people laughing and enjoying shots. Lucas giving her a look. Bennie just quietly bites the corner of her lip and picks up the tequila bottle and pours one out on the deck. "S'cuse me, boys." And then the blonde is moving to slip out from behind the secondary deck bar.

Tor salutes with a newly-refilled plastic cup of beer to Graham, watches a few fireworks, then slides over to his makeshift DJ booth to queue up the Hendrix Star Spangled Banner. And then the trailer park boy starts to fiddle with his playlist to queue up the next round of crowd-pleasing favourites.

Pop, pop, pop. Graham's very happy gawking up at the pretty lights. "But wait. What happened to the guy?" He intends to aim this question at Tor, since he knows him and all, but then Tor seems to have moved, and Graham can't seem to grasp the concept, just frowning at the empty place where the guy with the plastic cup was. Mumbling, scratching the back of his head some more, "This is his bar, I'm almost positive that's his girlfriend - welp, whatever." He needs beers so he can pay for the country songs he's gonna be requesting now.

It's the fourth of July, and Ruiz will PDA if he damned well wants to, apparently. He breaks the kiss off once he's good and ready, murmurs something else to Joe, and chuckles again before taking a swig of his beer. His gaze briefly tracks Bennie as she moves about, then cuts toward Graham when he finally spots the guy. Nooope, not gonna say a word. He does give him a terse little upnod, though.

Lucas watches Bennie and Tor slip away for a moment, he sighs and takes finishes off his original Apple Pie that he was distracted from during the shots. His eyes scan the crowd slowly, debating.

It's not just the booze that has that little smile on Joe's lips. Far from it. He's got that satisfied aura, like a cat eyeing a whole saucer of milk. Blinking, though his gaze eventually follows Javier's to Graham, then back. But he nods. "Sure. Ready when you are."

The recipient of an upnod, Graham is juuuust drunk enough to smile back Ruiz's way and not flip him the bird. He's not so drunk as to not frown contemplatively and ask (too loudly, because - as mentioned several times - he's very drunk), "What song do cops like? Oh! Oh, I got it!" Then he buys Tor a beer and you all can thank him later for 'I Fought the Law.'

That's pretty much Ruiz's cue to GTFO. So he does, once he squares up with the 'tender, hopefully with Joe in tow.