herotypical | voice + action ✪ we lost the war but won the battle

[ a chipper voice cuts across the journals. or, at least, it's the voice of someone who is making a sincere effort to be chipper. there's work to be done and the turmoil beneath the surface can be set aside for at least an evening. can't it? ]

The liquid feast of Saint Patrick is soon upon us. So, I'm expecting you hooligans to pack Good Spirits so tightly that I won't be able to tell whether you're lab-rats or sardines. And for those of you who aren't yet up to speed on the bevy of beverage options in town, let me tell you that Good Spirits is just about as premier a pub as you can get in a town where the yardstick is made up and the prices don't matter. Ugh. Next time? I am totally putting Asch on PR duty. It'll be good for him.

[ ...right about now is the time where the young faux-entrepreneur needs to pause for a much-needed breath. ] Lately, the apparently-not-so permanent bar staff has been whittled down a bit, so maybe I should be thinking about hiring some extra hands for the seventeenth.

But while I have your attention -- I'm Buffy Summers, and I have a few vital questions that need answering: soup or salad? Pink Floyd or Led Zepplin? Paper or plastic? Crossword or jigsaw? Aniston or Jolie? Thin crust or thick crust?...Boxers or briefs?

Points will be docked for stupid questions and back-sass. Double points will be docked if you back-sass while also being Xander Harris.

[ with this questionnaire completed, buffy throws herself back into the glamorous life of barmaidenhood. you can find her at good spirits for the majority of the evening, or perhaps you ran into her earler in the day while she was attempting to track down unholy amounts of green food colouring at the item and grocery shops. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh, I feel comfortable with it - I simply wanted to check if it was allowed.

[Peggy smiles at that and nods.]

If there are no other rules to know, then a copy of the menu should suffice to get me ready for the rush.

[ she offers out a well worn card. ] Rules are tricky things in a world without laws. Even the old no-shirt-no-shoes-no-shoes-no-service standby gets a little bent, in these parts.

[She takes the card and looks it over, studying it like she does military reports. The names are unfamiliar, but she can recognize the ingredients of most of them.]

I suspect in a place where some people aren't even people, upholding the old rules would just be silly. Anyone who can't be allowed in?

Not as of any more, no. Open guest list until otherwise advised. However, if someone comes in asking for animal blood? Try vetting them through me. Just in case.

....Are there many who come asking for that?

Recently? Nah. But it's happened. On quite a few occasions.

Duly noted. [And weirded out. Animal blood? Seriously?]

Any other drinks I should know about that require...special service?

...Ah. Yes. The Romulan Ale. Don't give out too much of it. It's vile. Strong. Turns every one who drinks it onto one big walking baby, occasionally with bonus violence.

What a lovely thing to keep on the menu.

[She notes a few other drinks that already have "See X to serve" and nods, turning the card back over to Buffy.]

At least the building repairs itself and the patrons generally can defend themselves, hm?

[ a nod for her question, and an explanation for her conclusion: ] The Romulan Ale is a killer. However, not every man nor beast that walks in her has the same constitution as your average human. Sometimes, what's motor oil to you or me is like a wine cooler to the next guy. That's why it's still on the menu.

A concept I'm still coming to terms with, I'm afraid.

[Superhuman men? Sure. Non-human superpowered people? Not so much. It's still a strange concept, but she's working on it.]

Well, the constitution problem is something old, it's the beast part that I'm still shaky on.

It takes a little while. For better or worse, you settle into it. You come to terms with what you live next-door to. Here and at home. All it requires is at least a semi-open mind.

I try to keep one, but the talking multi-coloured ponies definitely test it.

[Her lips quirk up in a smile.]

I suppose you've been here long enough they no longer faze you?

...I think I stopped being fazed long before I turned up here.

I'll try to take a page from your book then.

[She extends a hand then, with a smile.]

It shall be a pleasure to work with you, Buffy.

[ and a firm handshake is given. ] Ah. You say that now, not yet realizing just how much of a taskmaster I can be.

Unless you have me crawling under barbed wire to deliver the order, I think I can handle it.

I think you just stumbled upon a great new theme night: trench warfare. We'll serve Jägerbombs and require face-paint.

[ SHE JOKED. ]

I'll bring my fatigues.

[Deadpan and utterly joking]

...Gotta love a gal who can rock the camo.

Hopefully it never becomes the height of fashion, though. Practical though it may be on the field.

Well, I'm not sure I'd describe it as the height of anything but -- try not to visit the 90s grunge scene. Camo everywhere.

[She has no idea what grunge is, Buffy.]

I'll be sure to keep clear. Somehow being at any scene where military fatigues are abundant seems to be one to avoid.

...Tell me about it.

[ that might be a genuine invitation. or just an expression of sympathy. who knows. ]

Often find yourself surrounded by the military, do we?

(no subject)

herotypical - 2013-04-15 14:40 (UTC) - Expand

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