fandomtownies | The Devil's Nest, Tuesday Evening

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$devil's nest

The Devil's Nest, Tuesday Evening

Aziraphale was a bundle of nerves as he checked the stock behind the bar, put on some music for the dance floor, and unlocked the door. Not only had he never in his life even been on that side o a bar, but he knew nothing about mixing drinks. And to make matters worse, a sense of foreboding had been dogging him all day.

Maybe tending bar would be a sufficient distraction. Something told him, though, that it wasn't going to be that easy.

[ooc: My availability will be pretty erratic tonight, so feel free to mod your service if you want to avoid potential SP.]

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Where you might find an angel, pacing back and forth and occasionally rearranging liquor bottles behind the bar.

Stan entered this Devil's Nest place, wondering how different it was from Caritas. And wonders who names these things.

"Dr Keyworth," Aziraphale said with a smile. He'd laid a towel over his arm, just like the bartenders did in the movies.

The old movies. Don't expect him to start tossing bottles around.

Stan greeted him. "What do you have on special today, Mr Barkeep?

[have they met?

"Er..."

Aziraphale hadn't thought about having a special. He apparently still had a lot to learn about tending bar. "The scotch is quite good," he suggested."

[ooc: Stanley stopped by Wilson's birthday party, and they met briefly there.]

"Scotch it is," he said, looking around the decor.

[ooc: awesome!]

Aziraphale poured a glass of scotch over ice, and set it in front of Stanley.

"How are you enjoying life in Fandom, Doctor?"

"It is certainly not the vacation I was lead to believe," he said, taking a sip. "But the casework is less."

"Well, I don't think you've been here for one of the invasions yet, have you?" Aziraphale mused. "You may find a bit of an upswing in your appointments after something like that."

"I'm dreading my Tuesdays, now," he said ruefully. "Have already picked up a new client."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. That you've got something to dread, I mean."

Aziraphale felt himself lucky in the fact that, despite it being often difficult and no little confusing, he never found himself wishing his job away.

"It's not so much the clientel, as we're all a bit broken. It... it's severity. Trauma does a number of things to a person, any number of things."

"Yes, it does," Aziraphale agreed, bowing his head sadly for a moment. He'd seen far too much of that effect in the people around him, and he wondered what Stanley would make of some of the causes of those traumatic experiences.

"I imagine you get some unusual cases," he said carefully, understanding perfectly well that Stanley wasn't free to discuss specifics.

"Most are run of the mill cases. Witnessing murders, car crashes. Some military service, some job stress. I've yet to have a case involving extra-terrestrials and property damage, though," he said dryly, sipping at his Scotch.

Aziraphale chuckled. "No, I would imagine that's rather unique to Fandom," he agreed. "We don't have these sorts of things back where I'm from, either. But in the couple of short years I've been here, I've seen zombies, trolls, tiny affectionate penguins... One starts to wonder what 'normal' is even really like, anymore."

"Zombies and penguins? Do tell," he said, draining his glass.

"Well, the zombies were just after I first got here," Aziraphale explained. "There was an army of them, and it took a couple of days, but we fought them off. I won't lie, though, the idea of it terrified me. I mean, the dead aren't supposed to walk until the End of Days. And I rather like the world the way it is. I'm not in any hurry to see it end."

"Neither am I. I'm rather fond of things. I'm just here for some fishing, not the apocalypse."

"Professor Phale?" Billy said, surprised.

"Evening, Mr Kessler," Aziraphale said, smiling. "What can I get you?"

"I'd like a cherry coke please." Billy said. "Serving booze to people isn't a conflict of interest is it?"

"I haven't any problem with alcohol." Aziraphale fished around behind the bar for a moment, and then placed an old-fashioned cherry coke in front of Billy. "It's the overindulgence that creates a problem."

"I always figured those seven deadly sins carried their own punishments with them." Billy nodded. "So this is how you're spending your summer?"

"The unfortunate part, is that so few people really seem to understand what those sins mean these days."

He nodded at Billy. "This, and working at the bookshop. Although I haven't started that quite yet. I hope to soon, though. I'm afraid I know a great deal more about books than I do about bars."

"Maybe you can find a book about bar tending." Billy suggested.

Billy's suggestion brought Aziraphale up short, and he stared at the young man for a moment, before shaking his head and chuckling.

"Quite, my dear. Thank you. I've always said mortals are far better at thinking up ideas than the Host are."

"Are we really?" Billy smiled. "Thanks." He looked around. "Didn't I hear that this place burned down or something?"

"Oh yes, I can assure you that all the really interesting things are thought up by mortals," Aziraphale replied, nodding vigorously.

He glanced around, and gave a little shrug. "I understand it did, but Lucifer brought it back today."

Billy had never actually heard the name of the owner of the club before. ~~his mun was almost certain of that~~

"...Lucifer? The Lucifer?"

Uh...oops?

"Well, a Lucifer," Aziraphale hedged. "Not the one from my world. But, er...yes. I don't think he much cares about keeping it secret, so I suppose it's all right if I confirm it."

"Uh, should we be worried? I guess you're not so that's a good sign."

Where you can kick up your heels to a nice mixture of big band and swing sounds.

The Devil's Nest, Tuesday Evening

The Bar

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The Dance Floor

The Lounge

The OOC

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