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Caritas | Sunday

Things between Tino and Clark were not the same after Clark had been informed Tino had lied and wasn't the actual owner of Caritas.

However, there had been a sale at Bath and Body Works and Tino came to work bearing free hand sanitizer. Maybe they could continue getting along after all.

Welcome to Caritas! Pull up a stool and sanitize with our White Tea and Ginger scented antibacterial gel!

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The zombies smell a little better tonight since Tino gave them their own bottle of sanitizer.

Clark is busy decorating his glass of coke with fruit.

If there was one truly great way to get a feel for what the underbelly of a town might be like, it was doing some research at the seediest local bar. By default, that meant Bruce was spending a night at Caritas.

His initial impressions were obvious. For one, the place wasn't terribly seedy except for the band on stage. Either they were wearing elaborate costumes - which he would have assumed, except that he spotted some duct tape holding an arm together, and that anyone that dedicated to costuming could have found a more natural fix with ease - or they were zombies. In a town seemingly filled with magic, that made a kind of sense.

The fact that it made sense was kind of disturbing.

The next thing he noticed was the bartender. "Clark. I'll have a club soda."

Nice to be noticed last. Maybe Clark needed a new haircut.

"Bruce, I think I can manage that for you," Clark said, smiling and finding the requirements of the drink. Well, a glass and the soda gun. "Checking out the town today?"

"Pretty much," Bruce said. Parts of it, anyway. "I figured there was no reason to put off seeing what the nightlife was like around here."

Clark passed over the clear drink, glancing around the bar. "Yeah, Sunday's not the most outrageous I've seen it. Might be kind of dull by Gotham City standards."

"Thanks," Bruce said. "I wouldn't really know. It's been a few years since I've been in Gotham. I was a little too young to check out the bar scene back then." That was a joke.

"You're only as old as your fake ID says," Clark considered, though given how he'd spent last summer under an assumed name, hanging out in the wildest clubs of Metropolis and busting cash from ATMs, Clark should shut up.

"I'm pretty sure they would have pegged a thirteen year old as being underage," Bruce said. "Unless it was a very convincing ID, of course."

Bruce was pretty sure he could have made one that good, come to think of it. He just didn't think about it at the time.

"What are you now, sixteen?" Clark asked, guessing the vague, mid-high school range.

"In another month," Bruce said. "So still young enough that walking into a bar is a little strange."

Not that his poker face showed that he thought it was strange.

"Yeah, some days working in a bar is strange, but the tips are better than if I ended up working at a store." Where there are no tips.

"It could be different if you were at a store that paid you on commission. I doubt that's the case anywhere on the island, though," Bruce mused.

It hadn't taken Gunn long to find out that the main bar in town didn't card.

Only problem is that he neglected to learn that there was a band made up of zombies.

"EVERYONE! Clear out!" he yelled as he grabbed a chair to use as a weapon. "Walking undead people! Get to the exits, now!"

Clark looked to Tino for support but, well, it was Tino.

"Hey, can I help you with something?" Clark asked the crazy guy, ready to speed him out the door if things went wrong. "There's kind of a no violence in the bar rule."

"Uh-huh," Gunn said circling around the band with the chair held out. "Somebody should have told that to the brain eaters!"

"You mean the zombies?" Catch up, Clark. "They're just doing their job."

"Yeah! Brain dead eating mother-"

At that particular time the Saxaphone Zombie musician played a rather sour note that blotted out part of what Gunn was saying.

No doubt Clark could hear Gunn over the note.

"-ers! Get out before they start snacking!"

That didn't sound much like this kid was getting the point. Clark moved to try and stand between Gunn and the stage.

"Look, these guys, and girl - sorry, are the band here. People sing karaoke with them and I don't think the boss would be too happy if you hit them with your chair, there."

"Guys and girl?" Gunn said in disbelief. "Karaoke? What kind of f'd up bar is this?"

"The kind that serves alcohol to anyone who comes in," Clark answered, hoping to take this from PG-13 back to a nice PG evening. "Maybe we can get you a drink, sort all this out."

Gunn looked at the kid in front of him and then back at the band and then back again.

"Yeah. Okay. A drink," he said watching the zombies as if they were going to start a killing spree at any moment. "I can do that."

"Great! I'm Clark, that's Tino," he said, pointing out the disinterested hand sanitizer freak at the bar. "And you may have had the most interesting reaction to Caritas I've seen yet."

"You mean no one gets agitated over the zombies?" he asked. "No offense but walking dead here!"

He sighed and ordered a beer from Tino. (Still keeping an eye on the Zombies.) "I'm Gunn."

Clark had to remind himself that Gunn was less weird of a name than Nobody. "I'm under the impression people don't pay much attention to the walking dead after they get hammered and sing Lady Gaga songs with the band all night."

Uh, not that Clark had done this. He'd just dated Lady Gaga or wtfever.

"Lady who?"

Bruce didn't get up from his stool. He was curious to see how this played out.

Edited 2010-01-04 04:07 (UTC)

Gunn looked over to see the guy he met on the bus ride in. "You just going to stand there or do something?" he called out.

"Technically, I'm sitting down," Bruce pointed out. "But don't worry, I'll leave as soon as I'm done with my drink."

"Dude!" Gunn said shooting Bruce a look. "Are you serious? Zombies!"

"I'm more concerned with them being musicians," Bruce noted.

"Undead brain eaters and you're worried about their playlist?!"

"I haven't had to deal with them eating brains while I've been sitting here," Bruce pointed out. "But I have had to deal with their music."

"Well, hell! They barely have lips! How can they even attempt to play music."

"I don't know. But they're managing it," Bruce pointed out. "Try not to worry too much about them. They seem as harmless as they possibly can be."

Pull up a comfy chair away from the bar.

Keep away from the zombies and watch some football.

I am an ohtararanel!

NO YOU ARE NOT OMG.

I AM SO!

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Caritas | Sunday

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OOC | Caritas

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Re: OOC | Caritas