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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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"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.

"You seemed to like them before," she noted sadly, looking down at her chest. "What's changed? Is this just an example of the leprechaun's capricious ways?"

"It might be the fact that you keep calling me a fucking leprechaun," Nathan said, raising an eyebrow. "Because I am not a leprechaun but I can change my mind and my mood based on a very mean, very small chested chick that might be sitting in front of me. It's one of my many talents that are not leprechaun related and that you will never get a chance to see again if you keep calling me a fucking leprechaun."

Ramona just arched her eyebrow back at him. "You're very sensitive about this," she noted mildly.

"I am not!" Well, maybe a little. Maybe he just hated leprechauns. "Your hair is brown! It's very boring, Ramona. I think it's affecting your entire persona."

That wasn't a great comeback but it was what he had.

"It's only temporary. I'll be green again by the end of the week. Your sensitivity, though, isn't going to magically go away," she pointed out.

"I am not a fucking leprechaun," he said, raising an eyebrow. "And what makes you think you're little friend isn't going to hold out just to drive you crazy? Men have done less for that, you know. We like proving that we're the alpha sex."

"He'll crack," she said confidently. "And until then, I'm still really cute as a brunette. I just don't look like myself. Don't you worry about me." A pause, and, "Really? Alpha sex? Really?"

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence. "You woman, me man, me beat on chest to prove this point."

Nathan actually did smack his own chest but winced because, ow, he'd hit himself a little harder than necessary and he was a scrawny guy.

And Ramona couldn't stop laughing long enough to reply, really. Because wow. "Yeah, definitely alpha," she snorted after a moment.

"Well, maybe I like getting bossed around by girls," he said, rubbing his poor abused chest. "There are some definite advantages to that, you know. And some guys are confident and secure enough that that sort of thing is just fucking cake to them."

"Keep telling yourself that," she replied. "You hurt yourself, there?"

"Why, you gonna kiss it and make it better?" Nathan asked, smirking.

"Not at the rate you're going," she replied, arching a brow.

"The rate I'm going?" Nathan repeated, amused. "And please, what rate am I going at? I'm just being my normal happy go lucky self."

Caritas | Wednesday

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