fandomtownies | Caritas, Wednesday evening

Entry tags:

$caritas,
ka d'argo

Caritas, Wednesday evening

With the crowds from Saturday cleared out, D'Argo was looking forward to a nice quiet night.

Especially since the drummer seemed to be missing his family members today.

Also, an arm, but that wasn't unusual.

[Mod Tino if you love me. If you don't love me... well, pretend.]

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Don't mind the drummer.

Where the drinks live.

Until someone drinks them.

Bar. Good place to be. Faith knocked back a Rum and Coke and took in the scenery.

Hang out, stay awhile.

GOB was hanging out in the lounge, thinking deep thoughts about deep things that his oh-so-deep robot brother talked to him about.

He was thinking these things into a glass of scotch, of course.

Faith wandered into the lounge, nodding to the guy who was sitting there. "Hey."

Look, she was even making conversation. And being civil and nice to people. It was probably only gonna last a day or two, but she was trying.

"Hello," GOB said thinking deep thoughts about things that I'm not going to discuss. "New in town?"

"Just fell off the turnip truck," she said, falling into one of the seats carelessly. Without spilling the rum and Coke. "This town a good place to be?"

"Getting better all the time," GOB said because he's a skeeve. "Plenty of things to do, good music, good booze. I have no complaints." GOB had plenty of complaints, in fact, and many of those complaints had to do with what he listed. But that didn't sound as good.

"GOB Bluth," he said, raising his glass. "I own this place." A line with which he had never picked up a woman.

"Seriously?" Faith asked. Because it wouldn't be the first time a guy made shit up to impress her. Or, really, fail at impressing her. "Nice bar. How come you called it Caritas?"

"It came to me in a vision. A man rode down on a flaming pie and said, 'Name it Caritas,'" GOB said.

In actuality, Paul McCartney had used that as an explanation for how The Beatles received their name, later inspiring the title of his solo album, Flaming Pie. Paul was joking. GOB was hoping to be taken seriously.

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Or else a guy named Lorne owns it, and you're full of shit."

"You know Lorne?" GOB asked, smiling a genuine smile. "I do own this place. He sold it to me a while ago when he was skipping town for a TV thing."

Faith grinned back at him. "TV? No shit. Wow." She nodded. "Yeah, me and him go way back. Well, my version. I guess you get, like, different versions of people here, or something? So maybe in his universe I'm not there or whatever. Haven't seen him in a year or so."

"He was back here last year teaching stuff up at the school," GOB said. "He left at the end of the school year, though. You know, I don't think I caught your name."

"Don't think I gave it." She grinned. "Faith. I'm a friend of Dawnie's, she goes to school here. And a bunch of other people, but that's mostly more dimensional whatever."

"Who?" GOB asked. He barely knew the names of his employees, let alone some random student he had probably never met.

She did work the bar for a night, but that was only ONE night and it was a long time ago. And he probably didn't know her name then anyway.

"'Bout this tall, shiny hair, uh. I dunno. Maybe she's not a big drinker." She took another swig of her rum and Coke. "So what kinda name is GOB, anyway? Your parents real Biblical?"

"It's the best name you've ever heard," GOB said, turning very serious.

"Could be," Faith said. "Should it be?"

"Of course. It's a great name," GOB said.

"I suppose it might be," she grinned. "You really own this place, huh?"

"I would never lie about that," GOB said.

Which was a lie. But he only lied about that to people who he thought he might owe money to.

Faith took another swig of her drink, thinking. "You, uh. You need anybody here? The bar or cleaning shit up or bouncin', any of that?"

She usually took the No Visible Means of Support route, but getting fingered for petty theft would pull her record and get her sent back to LA, or, more likely, have her skipping town in the middle of the night. Which would make it hard to stick around.

"I have been looking for a new bartender," GOB said. "I'll just need to conduct a quick interview."

"Sure," Faith said, leaning back in her chair. Or should she sit up and pretend she was all professional? Nah, fuck it. She crossed her legs and nodded to him. "Hit me."

"Will you wear leather pants when you're working?" GOB asked.

Technically it wasn't sexual harassment if she wasn't working for him yet. At least, that's the reasoning he was using.

Faith smirked, leaning forward. Totally not to show off her cleavage or anything. "There a dress code I should know about?"

"Dressing slutty gets you better tips," GOB said, totally not trying to hide the fact that he was looking at her cleavage. "I'm not telling you to skank it up, but it's in your best interest tip-wise."

"Think I might be able to arrange that," she purred. Wow, job interviews were way easier than she'd been worried they'd be.

"You're hired," GOB said.

GOB didn't care about bartending skills. He had Tino for that. Dressing slutty, on the other hand, was something he cared about in an employee.

That kind of thinking was probably part of the reason why he was in financial danger.

Faith beamed. "Wicked. When do I start?"

Ah, using her looks to get ahead. Still as handy as ever.

"How about next Wednesday?" GOB asked.

"Perfect," she grinned. "I'll be here."

After a moment she added, "Probably in something skin-tight and shiny."

"I'll probably be here to make sure to show you the ropes," GOB said. Also, to see her in something skin-tight and shiny. "Tino could, but screw Tino."

"Never on the first date," Faith said. Which was total crap, but like this guy had to know that. She stood up, leaving her drink on the stand. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Don't screw Tino. He's gay, anyway," GOB said. "Jack Harkness nailed him!"

Despite never having sex with Jack Harkness himself, GOB had trouble forgetting his name, possibly for exactly this reason.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said coolly. "Next Wednesday, then."

"Next Wednesday," GOB repeated. "And if you need anything to help you get settled in, give me a call."

GOB hadn't given her his number.

"Absolutely," she grinned. Knowing full well he hadn't.

I hurt myself! Give me sympathy! *whores*

*WAVES FROM MASSACHUSETTS!*

*GIVES SYMPATHY*

*AND A RED WAGON*

WOE!

One armed drummer. So the Zombie Band is Def Leppard?

Or a slightly more fortunate Spïnal Tap.

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Caritas, Wednesday evening

The Stage

The Bar

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OOC

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