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Caritas | Wednesday

Why break a routine, right? Nathan made it three weeks in a row in the bar on a Wednesday and three weeks in a row, he ended up behind the bar when Tino's regular bartender didn't show up again. Nathan was beginning to think this guy was on sabbatical or some shit. Or maybe he was mad at Tino.

No matter, Nathan grabbed a bottle of Irish whiskey and set it up on the bar, pouring himself a glass and downing it quickly. He wasn't thinking of the bitchy fight he'd had with Kate earlier or any of the other million weird and complicated things that had happened to him lately.

Nope, he was a man who had liquor and that would erase all those thoughts he didn't want to have right now. Okay, maybe those thoughts were sticking around but Nathan was ignoring that fact. He was toasting the band and toasting Tino and toasting Tino's attempts at singing with the band.

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"Confidence is healthy," he told her, holding a finger up. "I think highly of myself because it's deserved. I've worked hard to attain these levels of perfection and I plan on staying there for the rest of my unpredictable life."

"But what if some kind of horrible accident happened to you to put a damper on those perfect looks of yours?" she wondered.

Edited 2011-02-17 02:09 (UTC)

"That's what plastic surgery is for," he quipped, grinning. "Technology can do just about anything today. I mean, I'm sure if I paid someone enough, they'd graft an extra dick onto my leg or neck or something. Not that I want that but I'm sure it's possible."

Ramona tilted her head, picturing that. "You'd do better with arm than with leg," she decided after a moment. "Leg would be too close to the original to get much done, I think. But yeah, don't actually do that. I'm casting my vote for that being a bad, bad idea."

"Why's your hair brown?" Nathan asked because that was still getting his attention every time he happened to look up. "Is it a wig? Did the hair dye making you go fucking bald?"

"Because Tony Stark is walking around with hot pink hair," she explained with a shrug. "I made a deal -- I get to dye his hair, but I'd go brown for however long he could deal with the pink. Don't get used to it, though. I'm sure he's gonna crack soon."

"Uh huh." He glanced up at her hair and then back down at her. "And how are you dealing? Not close to cracking either?"

"Why do you think I'm seeking out liquor?" she asked with a small smile.

Nathan laughed and gestured grandly to the assorted liquors behind him. "That your way of subtly telling me to get you a damn drink? You know, you could have just reached over the counter and smacked me around a little bit. I do take well to that."

Edited 2011-02-17 02:38 (UTC)

"You don't want me to hit you," she said, shaking her head. "Get me something neon-colored, though."

Maybe she missed her hair a little.

"Oh, I think I could handle you hitting me," Nathan said, turning around to search for something to fulfill her request. "I doubt you'll be the last girl to hit me, after all. Those who are most attracted seem to hit me to deny that attraction."

"I hit a lot harder than most girls," Ramona said nonchalantly. "Seriously, you don't want me hitting you. I won't be cute about it."

Nathan chuckled and finally found what looked to be some brightly flavored blue drink for her. He poured it gracefully into a glass and slid it across.

And since he couldn't go spilling Caroline's secret, he'd just let Ramona have this one. "Why wouldn't you be cute about it, though? I mean, there is such a thing as playful hitting as a means of flirtation. I've had it happen before."

"I could do that," she agreed, taking her drink happily. "It really depends on why you're getting hit and whether I'm flirting with you or defending my honor or something."

"Do you actually think there'd be a time where you'd have to defend your honor from me?" Nathan asked, amused. "Do I look like some medieval caveman or something?"

"That's true. I'm much more likely to defend like, my pot of gold, or ask you for directions to the end of the rainbow...."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck you," Nathan said and gave her the finger because she deserved it for that one. "Thanks for the flowers, speaking of fucking leprechauns. They're still alive!"

That was an accomplishment for him.

"I'm very proud that you can keep cut flowers from wilting within a week," Ramona said, nodding. "You should get a medal!"

"Well, I got like...four sets," he said, still a little shocked by that. "Three signed, one anonymous. Do I look like the type of guy that regularly gets flowers and keep vases handy?"

"There's a lot that we still don't know about your people, Nathan," Ramona said, wide-eyed. "Vase-collecting could be but one of many hobbies that leprechauns enjoy."

She was cruel.

"You do realize another stereotype of the Irish is that we're fucking brawlers, right? Do you want me spreading these evil slanderous lies back home? You'll have so many pissed of Irish folk after you, you'll have to go into hiding."

Actually, Nathan had maybe a grand total of four friends and even that was being kind.

"Mmm, but I also know that the Irish are drunks, and suckers for pretty girls," she added, "and I will ply their good favor with beer and my fluttering lashes. And maybe my boobs, if things get desperate. I'm not afraid."

Nathan stepped back, rubbed his chin thoughtfully and looked at her rack. Of course, he made it no secret that he was looking either.

"Eh, the tits aren't that great," he joked, shrugging. "I'm sure my Irish brethren can tear their eyes away. We do have tits in Ireland, Ramona."

"Yeah, but they're all leprechauny and tiny," she replied dismissively. "Also, how dare you, my tits are great."

"I gotta be truthful," he said, shrugging a shoulder and snickering. "They're...about a five on a ten point scale, I think. Could be worse but definitely needs improvement."

That wasn't true but she was calling him a leprechaun so she deserved it.

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