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Caritas, Monday

Jake hadn't actually noticed anything unusual was occuring- yet. Well, the cute cashier at the Perk hadn't just rolled her eyes when he'd flirted with her while getting his morning coffee, and had actually flirted back, but as far as Jake was concerned that was just her finally coming around.

As he came in to the bar he was greeted with an inexplicably smug looking Tino. "No," Jake held up a hand. "Don't even tell me. Not interested."

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When the Americays were dry,
By the laws of old excise;
A Yank could find his drink by way of sea.
And our schooner often ran,
From the banks of Newfoundland;
To quench the thirst,
The Yankee buyer's plea.

So haul, haul up the main,
Our schooner's off, she sails again,
From Newfoundland, bound Americay.
Heave, heave, heave, me boys,
We're sailing o'er the Yankee tide;
We're running rum the prohibition way,
We're running rum the prohibition way.

Weighed down our hold,
Prohibition's liquid gold;
To rendezvous off the coast of Maine.
The midnight splash of oars,
The Yankee buyers now on board;
The deal is done,
We're headed off again.

So haul, haul up the main,
Our schooner's off, she sails again,
From Newfoundland, bound Americay.
Heave, heave, heave, me boys,
We're sailing o'er the Yankee tide;
We're running rum the prohibition way,
We're running rum the prohibition way.

Just last week Jaina had been all proud of herself that she didn't feel the need to go out and be around people all the time. Today that all went completely out the window, and she decided there was just no way she could stay cooped up in her apartment.

"I pretty much don't care what you give me, but it should probably be strong," she ordered when she took a seat at the bar.

"Straight rum do ye, luh?" Jake checked, already pouring it over ice. If she didn't want it, he'd drink it himself.

"Maybe have some Coke on hand, just in case," she said, never having tried drinking it straight before. "Have I seen you here before?" She thought she would have remembered.

"Been in town almost a year," Jake said. "Not employed till a few months ago, but I used to make a point of stoppin' in to bug Mainland on her Tuesdays." Maybe that was a habit he should think about getting back in to, hmmm.

"I have no idea who that is," Jaina admitted. But she'd only been in on a Tuesday like, once?

"Robin. Schberatsky, Fraser, whichever. Now that she's married." Now why was thinking about that even more depressing than usual?

Edited 2010-11-09 03:10 (UTC)

"Oh right. Marriage is overrated," she said, pulling her drink closer. And she'd keep telling herself that, thank you. Though that would mean there was someone pretty much guaranteed to be around when you needed them, ahem.

"Lord God, you don't need to tell me that twice," Jake said wholeheartedly. "Been there, done that, got a briefcase full of legal documents thrown at me for my troubles. Literally."

"You poor thing." She had no idea where that came from. "But at least now you have some freedom to do things you want...?"

Her actual feelings on divorce were way more complicated, but there just wasn't room in her head for that today.

"There is that," Jake said slowly, giving her a once over. "I do enjoy... doing things."

Jake Doyle: private investigator, bartender, totally smooth talker.

Well. Maybe not that last one, at least as much as he thought.

Normally getting a once over would result in her frowning and usually discouraging whatever led to it. Today she actually found that kind of amusing. "Like what kinds of things?" she asked, totally innocently really.

"Drinks with a lovely lady is a promising start to any evening," Jake said, raising his own glass at Jaina in a toast of sorts.

Jaina lifted her drink, noting, "So now we're having drinks together? And here I thought you were just serving me." Not dirty? Maybe? To her, everything sounded a little dirty, anyway. "I'm Jaina, by the way."

"I am serving you," Jake acknowledged. "And it is indeed my pleasure to do so, but since I also have a drink, it follows that we are drinking together, don't ye think? Nice to meet ya, luh. I'm Jake."

"I can work with that," she said, taking a drink. A little stronger than what she was used to, but she really did need something to relax her some. "What better way to get to know new friends than over drinks?"

"A woman after my own heart," Jake noted approvingly. "So what d'ye do, Jaina?" Too bad he'd never been to the bar on a Saturday, or he'd know the answer to this question.

"I'm not after anybody's heart." Wait a second, was she flirting? Yes, it took her this long to realize it. "I teach up at the school, and I work here on Saturdays. I like to stay busy."

"Nothing wrong with a little fun, though," Jake said, adding a bit of a hopeful lilt to his words. "Molding the little nippers minds, eh? I did a workshop over the summer, but I don't think teaching's something I could make a career of." At least the kids here didn't constantly make him want to slap them upside the head. That was a point in their favour.

"It's definitely not going to be a career. It's a job that holds me over for now. I have a few of those. I don't, however, have enough fun," she said, making sure to catch his eye when she said it even while wondering what had come over her.

"Now that," Jake said, thumping his empty glass back on the bar emphatically. "Is a right shame. But lucky for you, fun's something I knows a lot about. I'd certainly be willing to help ye out in that department."

She had a feeling she shouldn't be doing this, but it wasn't like it was hurting anyone, and she was really a lot more interested than she wanted to admit. "I'd be more than happy to let you help me out," she smiled.

"I need shots," Robin declared, walking in. She'd spent the day unable to really focus on anything other than the build of her coworkers' shoulders, or the occasional whiff of perfume. Everything seemed to catch her attention and draw it towards the dirty, which, while not terribly unusual for her sometimes, was a little extreme to experience all day.

She'd already sexted Benton, so she'd have that waiting at home, but in the meantime, stopping in the bar seemed like a grand idea.

Because she needed a drink to numb things a little. Yes.

"What kind?" Jake asked. "Tequila? Vodka? Or I gots this stuff that looks like it's a chocolate bar in a bottle..." he raised an eyebrow at her.

"I think I said shots, plural," Robin pointed out, arching a brow. "Let's go with all three."

"Hey now," Jake held up his hands in a mock-surrender. "Maybe ye had your heart set on a specific kind of shot, how should I know?"

Still, as instructed, he doled out one of each. And then, after a moment's contemplation, poured himself three shots as well.

"Drinking on the job, Newfie?" she teased, tsking. And okay, maybe there was a little more lash-batting with that smile than usual. Shh.

"Let she who is without booze cast the first stone," Jake shot back at her.

"Hey, I'm a paying customer. Comes with the privilege," Robin replied, twirling a finger through her hair idly.

"A paying customer who I happen to know indulges in a drink or a few when she is present in this establishment as an employee rather than a guest," Jake pointed out with a lazy grin.

"Yeah, but I'm a pretty lady," Robin pointed out shamelessly. "Really, I should go through life never paying for a single drop of alcohol. This payment, here, for these shots? That's a gift."

"Ye'd drive me to bankrupcy, woman, if I weren't tendin' bar," Jake had to admit. Because since he was tending bar, he didn't have to pay for free drinks.

Okay, sure, free drinks for customers probably was something that should be coming out of his paycheque, but shh.

"It's a gift," she replied with a smirk. "But hey, you probably get enough freebies on your own. I've bought a drink for a cute guy or two in my time."

We're on to Boston Harbour,
To pull another feat;
And I pray to God,
No excise men we meet.
I'd rather be drawn and hanged,
Than to lose me schooner grand,
Never more to sail the open sea.

So haul, haul up the main,
Our schooner's off, she sails again,
From Newfoundland, bound Americay.
Heave, heave, heave, me boys,
We're sailing o'er the Yankee tide;
We're running rum the prohibition way,
We're running rum the prohibition way.

Now the Boston deal is done,
The Yankee buyer's got his rum;
Our pockets lined,
For Newfoundland we sail.
We're loaded for and aft,
Enough provisions for to last;
The winter, boys, again we have prevailed.

So haul, haul up the main,
Our schooner's off, she sails again,
From Newfoundland, bound Americay.
Heave, heave, heave, me boys,
We're sailing o'er the Yankee tide;
We're running rum the prohibition way.

3patchproblem is slandering my good name with panda comparisons.

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Caritas, Monday

Stage!

Bar!

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Lounge!

Back Room!

OOC!