fandomtownies | The Smash Club (which will someday be the Devil's Nest): Saturday, 5/21

Entry tags:

The Smash Club (which will someday be the Devil's Nest): Saturday, 5/21

Even after a couple weeks on the island, Woody Boyd still wasn't sure how he'd ended up here when he was heading for Boston, but he sure wasn't going to knock it. The pay was good, there were no pigs in the club except for Friday nights when those 3 talking ones came in and sat around complaining about the price of straw, wood, and bricks, and everybody around here was just so goldarned friendly!

If maybe a little weird. City folks; what could you do?

[Open!]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Where Woody is always ready with a smile and a friendly quip. Have you heard the one about being new in town?

Where tonight, the DJ was showcasing the hits of Jesse and the Rippers!

Woody would be swaying with a lighter if he actually smoked. Instead there was just some really wholesome foot-tappery.

Edited 2011-05-21 19:19 (UTC)

Where the boss... might show up? Woody'd never actually met him; he'd been interviewed by the previous bartender, who seemed kind of eager to leave, really.

What with throwing the apron at him and running out the door.

Edited 2011-05-21 19:21 (UTC)

Huckleberry Woodrow Tiberius Boyd, at your service. Or as some might prefer to call him, Hanover Indiana.

"I need a drink." Or five. His life was so empty!

Not even his awesome hair could fill the void like alcohol did!

"You came to the right place!" Sadly, that wasn't a joke, just Woody being painfully, cheerfully earnest. "What can I get you, sir?"

Tony thought back to when he was last cheerful. Before ~~Vietnam~~ wherever it was this time that he was injured. "Something strong."

"So the regular beer, not the light?" That was strong for Woody.

...he was just so lucky that Tony was from Marvel.

"A bottle of scotch. Just leave the whole bottle with me."

Woody might be a rosy-cheeked farmboy, but he was also a certified mixologist. He could find the good scotch; he just gave it a look when he plopped it down on the bar in front of Tony. "That's a lot of of scotch. You sure you can drink all that?"

"I'm sure," Tony replied, with those manly tears just off in the distance. HE HAD SO MUCH ANGST ABOUT HIS LIFE. "I've had worse."

"Oh, this is the good stuff. It's a whole ten dollars a bottle."

Good was...relative, where Woody came from.

"...do you have anything better?" He may be in the midst of a depression, but he was still a millionaire.

Eric had woken up to discover his hair was now feathered and his wardrobe had been invaded by the ghost of Don Johnson. He stalked into the bar in a suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up (Why? Why were the humans doing this again?) and glared at the new guy.

"Where's Bo?"

Little did Isabela know about anything being wrong. Everything here still looked strange to her that going back a few decades had barely caught her notice. (Except for those guys sporting the most horrible haircut ever.)

So when she got to the bar, she was hoping for a rather different smile and a very different view. One with views and a short skirt. Not that this view was bad. "You covering for Bo, cutie?"

What? He was!

"There's rum?"

There was always rum.

Not if Tony drank it all!

"I'll take the rum." A beat. "Also a bottle."

"Is that the bartender who came before me?" Woody asked helpfully. "Blonde, kinda tight jeans, southern accent? Drove an orange Charger?"

The Causeway used to be wider.

"He said he was heading home, and hired me to replace him. Hi, I'm Woody Boyd, sir."

Speaking of short skirts.... or maybe blouses with no pants... Woody's gulp was pretty much audible. "I'm, ah. I'm Woody, ma'am. I'm kind of new here."

"Okay, but I do have to warn you, when you serve rum in bottles around here, the squi--"

There used to be a bottle of rum in Woody's hand. "The squirrels usually steal it."

Oh, he was new and green behind the ears. Isabela's grin widened because wasn't it fun to make innocent guys gulp?

"Yes. Yes, you are," she confirmed as she leaned against the bar. Let's see what that did, hmmm? "And I don't think I've ever been called ma'am before. It's Isabela."

That...didn't sound even remotely like the Bo Eric knew, and so he contented himself to stare at Woody for a long moment.

"Hello," he said finally. "I'd like a TrueBlood."

"You could try holding onto it longer," Tony suggested. Because those damn squirrels were in cahoots with Cap.

Oh, Cap... He missed those azure eyes!

Bibble. Beer nuts? Where were those beer nuts? For some reason, Woody was feeling like he could eat a horse right about now.

Hey, you sublimate your unresolved sexual urges your way, he'll do it his way, There was a reason he and his high school sweetheart were voted Couple Most Likely To Explode.

"Well, uh. Hi, there, Miss, uh, Miss Isabela, ma'am. What can I get for you?"

"Is that one of those fancy bottled beers from the back?" Woody frowned. "I don't know that brand, but I didn't exactly get a lot of training from the previous guy."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 4

The Smash Club (which will someday be the Devil's Nest): Saturday, 5/21

The Bar [5/21]

The Dance Floor [5/21]

The VIP Section [5/21]

OOC [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The VIP Section [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The VIP Section [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The VIP Section [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The Bar [5/21]

Re: The VIP Section [5/21]