fandomtownies | Caritas, Thursday (10/11)

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Caritas, Thursday (10/11)

Anders had all his Red Sox gear on today, and despite the zombie band's objections foisted some on them as well.

The bass player tried to object that it was hard to play properly while wearing a giant red foam finger, but objection was difficult with deteriorated vocal cords.

Of course, five minutes later when Anders had to tape his hand back on, he relented.

"Geez. Lightweight."

[OOC: ~~Sloooooooow pingage for the next two hours, and then quite possibly no pingage at all until 10PM EST or thereabouts.~~ And after taking an hour and 45 minutes to drive 15 miles, I am home and around. If slightly bitter.]

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Take me out to the ballgame . . .

Take me out to the crowd . . .

Rose entered the pub, feeling the need for a drink.

"Professor Tyler," Anders greeted her, brandishing a wedge of one of the fresh limes he was cutting. "How's it going?"

"Anders," she said with a surprised nod, "so this is where you are now, is it? I've been fantastic."

"Yeah, I'm trying to earn an honest living nowadays," Anders replied lightly. "What can I get for you tonight?"

"Pint of Guiness, if you please," she requested, "an' chips if you have any."

Anders had been practicing pulling a good pint, and he was eager to show it off. Taking a chilled glass from the cooler beneath the bar, he rubbed his hands together and got to work, rather pleased with the head of foam that resulted from his efforts. "I don't think we have any food, really," he said with a slight frown, "but I brought a bag of Doritos in with me tonight . . ."

"You're doin' that like a pro," she complimented, "Suppose Doritos would do."

"Sorry," Anders said, sliding the bag of Doritos across the counter to her. "Try and remember to have some chips for you next time."

He grinned as he set the pint down on a napkin in front of her. "You have no idea how many times I messed up my shoes before I got that right, though."

"Don't worry," she laughed, "you've got it right now." Rose took a swig of the pint, "An' not a bad stock of Guiness too."

Maybe this would drive that bleeding bastard out of her mind.

"Wish I could take credit for that, but I don't do the ordering," Anders replied. "I just work here. So are the students this semester less hopeless than I was?"

"Oh, they can't be as hopeless as you were, Anders," Rose teased. "Seriously though, they're all good kids, just like you were. Is it your senior year?"

"Yeah." A look of trepidation briefly crossed Anders's face at that. "Wow. Um."

She raised an eyebrow at his reaction, "Let me guess, cold feet?"

"Sort of?" Anders scrunched up his nose. "More like I've got some major decisions to make and the closer I get to having to make them the bigger they seem."

"I know the feeling," she replied, "all you've to think about now is doin' what you think is right."

Oh, is that how you did it? Justifications?

Rose scowled. The voice sounded too much like Saxon for her liking.

Anders looked down at the bracelet (http://pics.livejournal.com/demonbelthazor/pic/0004t8ph) around his left wrist and smiled. "Is it really that simple?"

"No," she answered, "it never is. You wish it but it never, ever is." She stared at her beer sullenly.

Anders blinked. "Is this where I'm supposed to do my understanding listening bartender thing?" he asked. "It is, isn't it?"

[OOC: Argh, sorry. Comment notifications seem to have dried up completely for me.]

The question momentarily snapped Rose out of her funk.

"Sorry," she said, sheepish, "didn't mean to, as Americans say, 'harsh your buzz'. Just a lot on my mind lately."

"Evening." Billy waved to Rose. "How's it going?"

Rose looked around, sipping the pint and blinked.

"Doin' well." She said warily, she wasn't up for company tonight.

"Good." Billy nodded, sensing she wasn't in the mood to socialize. "Good." he muttered to himself, turning back to his own drink.

"But you can have a bag of Doritos, if you like," she said in consolation, pushing it towards him.

Billy smirked, and snickered slightly. "Thank you." He took the bag. Thinking he might save them for later.

She knit her brows at the boy then shrugged. "You're welcome."

Billy came in, and sat down at the bar, wishing he was a drinker.

"Hey, Billy," said Anders. "Pick your poison. Okay, so I just wanted to say that."

"Heh. Just a pepsi I think. Or a virgin daqueri maybe." he shrugged. He was still a little broody.

"Tino!" Anders snapped his fingers. "Virgin daiquiri, you heard the guy. Don't look at me that way, it's not like I'm making you make it just because you're --"

He ducked and hit his head on the bar when Tino threw an olive at him.

"See that's what I like about this place. The rapport the staff have with each other."

"We work very hard to cultivate this sort of atmosphere around here," Anders deadpanned.

"I can see that. I'm impressed."

Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks . . .

Except I'm allergic to peanuts.

I think you need a drink after a commute like that!

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ICON.

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Caritas, Thursday (10/11)

The Stage

The Bar

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The Lounge

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