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The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

It was Derek's first day at work, so one might have expected some cheer. Or, you know, any emotion at all. Just a little bit. C'mon, Derek. 'Lurking' isn't an emotion.

So, people would be greeted today by his impression of the world's surliest looking statue.

At least he wasn't working the door?

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Where you can get your hand stamped.

Where Derek was, well, lurking.

Pretty new face in town? It's like Ronan had some kind of radar for it or something.

"Hey," he said, sliding onto a bar stool and grinning at the aforementioned surliest statue. "Any specials tonight?"

Derek glanced back at the selection of alcohol before shrugging. "Beer."

That was totally a special.

Totally a special.

"Then I suppose I'll have a beer -- make it a Harp?" Because even when not drinking Guinness, Ronan had to go for the Irish beers.

Derek grabbed the bottle and a glass, opening the bottle under the bar with--well, his thumb because he didn't care enough to find the opener--before setting them both on the bar in front of Ronan.

"That it?"

He was totally doing great at this job. See how great he was doing?

"Well, a name wouldn't hurt," Ronan retorted, taking the bottle and grinning a little wider. "I'm Ronan. Don't think I've seen you around town before?"

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Guess who also liked to lurk? Hint: she liked to deadpan and she got sick of Caritas when she was already there once a week.

"You guys have pop?"

April, the word was 'soda.' Really now, Midwest.

He would out lurk everyone on this goddamn island.

"What kind?" he asked, dragging himself away from the darkest corner of the area behind the bar.

"Surprise me."

Hey, this could be like a contest! Who could say the fewest words?

Well, that contest was won when Derek simply deposited a glass of coke on the bar in front of her. He gave her an expectant look for good measure.

Oh, he only thought he won. April was totally still playing.

As evidenced in how she returned that expectant look with one of her own, complete with raised eyebrows and all, and then slooowly opened the can and took a sip.

In silence.

They were a chatty bunch.

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Jack took a seat at the bar and stared right back at Derek. "So," he said. "Eric didn't put you off."

"Not yet," he said, glancing over at the creature in question. "He's not as impressive as he thinks he is."

You know. For a millenia old vampire and all.

"They rarely are," Jack said, voice pitched very low, then went up to a normal volume. "And you like the job? Tiny hasn't fed you to his venus fly traps yet?"

"It's not wolfsbane." Which would have been way more annoying.

"No, but now I'm terrified he'll get the idea to grow that next," Jack shared. "Sounds like you're settling in fine."

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Not long after Jack arrived, a glass of beer appeared beside him. Followed by a Ronan.

"They need to start announcing the hot new arrivals on island," Ronan said, foregoing 'hello,' as he looked over at Derek. "I almost missed this one."

Jack laughed. "I mentioned him to Emma, but I forgot you'd be interested," he said. "You approve of our hiring decisions?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Ronan retorted.

Really, Jack. Have you met Ronan?

"He is until you get through with him," Jack said affectionately. "Be gentle with the new meat, hmmm?"

Jack had met Ronan. He wondered if he should have warned Derek.

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Where they sure as hell better not be playing Duran Duran.

Where a vampire might be. Gross.

You spelled "awesome" wrong in that OCD, there.

The amazing and stupendous Eric Northman was in his usual spot in the VIP area.

Lurking.

Oh yeah.

I have worked almost ten hours today.

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