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The Devil's Nest, Tuesday

Since she was staying for the summer anyway, somehow Emma had ~~handwavily~~ managed to ~~con~~ sweet-talk Eric into giving her some hours at Devil's Nest, so here she was. Much to Tiny's utter dismay at having the telepathic blonde back in the bar, as he kept trying to convince tonight's DJ that she was some sort of terrifying monster when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

Which was fine. The DJ would figure that out soon enough ~~when~~ if Emma fired him for playing terrible music.

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Emma's making Tiny pour the drinks tonight, because she can. And because she's technically a few months away from 21, but whatever. She's still going to card you and make you suffer.

Sam's original intention had been to go to the other bar tonight, but when she stopped by here instead and spotted the spectacularly attractive new (?) bartender, she was pretty sure that she'd made the right choice.

"Hello," she said as she claimed a bar stool, after a fraction of a second of mental keysmash at the unexpected hotness. "Ah. Whiskey sour, please?"

Edited 2013-05-07 21:26 (UTC)

Emma managed to keep a poker-face - mostly, there was a bit of a smirk - at the mental keysmash, and snapped her fingers at Tiny to send him hopping into action.

"Sure," she agreed, grabbing a coaster for Sam while Tiny worked. "But I will need to see your ID to make sure you're old enough for one by the completely arbitrary and ridiculous standards of this country."

"I'm flattered," Sam said, because sometimes teasing was just reflexive, even when it was lame and unoriginal. Handing her ID over, she checked, "It's twenty-one in the States in this century, right? I think you'll find I qualify."

See? Twenty-six. Which was still way too young to be flattered by being carded, truth be told.

"Twenty-one, which really doesn't account for the nature of the island," Emma agreed, doing a quick check. "I mean, how many people come from alternate worlds where there is no sort of identification? But the point is to keep the tiny people from drinking and getting Eric in trouble."

"And while I am rather sure you posses enough common sense and maturity not to cause problems, it would be bad form to let you drink on my first night back just because I say so," she said, handing the ID back and taking the drink from Tiny to place in front of Sam. "But enjoy."

"Or ones where the identification only shows the date of birth," Sam posited, "making it rather difficult to ascertain someone's age after a time-displacement."

She'd thought this through.

In any event, she returned her ID to her wallet before taking a sip of her drink. "Thank you. So - 'back,' did you say?"

"I worked here for Eric as a student," she answered, grabbing one of the fancy sodas from under the bar for herself. "As one of the many time-displaced. According to my date-of-birth, I was totally old enough to drink as a student."

"And according to mine, it's still quite a while before I'm even born," Sam said. "I think you have the advantage there."

"I noticed," Emma said. "How far-future is far?"

"About a century and a half, give or take," Sam replied after a sip of her drink. "If you happen to know Commander Alenko -- he's a, well, a teacher stationed here -- I'm from the same timeline as he is."

Emma laughed so hard her soda almost came out her nose.

"Poor Kaidan is either scandalized or seriously disappointed by me on a daily basis," she managed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Frost, darling. Emma Frost. One of his many chaotic housemates."

"Oh, I had no idea!" Sam said, privately deciding that it was very unfortunate that Kaidan had such a fantastically attractive housemate. Just for awkwardness reasons. "I'd only heard him mention Jack and... someone else, but I'm blanking on the name, I'm afraid."

She kind of thought he'd mentioned the third person being a guy, though. Hadn't she made some kind of 'frat house' joke about it?

"At any rate," she said, holding out a hand, "Samantha Traynor. Alliance technical specalist."

"Probably Josh, whom I haven't met yet," Emma replied. "I'm a triple-major at Empire State University in New York, so I'm only here summers. I just got back to watch graduation."

Still, she took Sam's hand firmly. "A pleasure to meet you, Traynor. Don't believe anything Kaidan says about me, he's horribly biased."

Probably because Emma was a horrible person.

"I'll keep that in mind," she promised. Though really, she was pretty likely to lap up whatever he said. Because he was a hero and all. "But welcome back. I'm sure the Commander must be a pleasure to cohabitate with."

Seriously, sometimes she tried to have conversations that weren't just gushing about the heroes of the Citadel, but it never worked. What even.

"Ah, what are you studying?" There, see! Progress.

"I just finished my major in business, and I've been tentatively accepted into the Master's program at ESU," she said. "I'm almost finished with psychology -- hopefully be able to do some classes online and over the summer -- and will need to finish human development when I go back in the fall. I've got almost enough for a minor in biology, but I think I'm starting to drive my Dean insane."

"What about you? What does a 'technical specalist' specialize in? Besides 'future' ?"

Sam whistled -- that was quite a full courseload Emma had.

"Oh, a whole assortment of things," she replied. "Communication technology, signal emission analysis, the odd case of retrofitting. Mostly lab work. Though now -- and I do realize the sort of light that this casts me in -- I'm stationed at the Portalocity office in town."

"So either someone thinks you're brilliant and can fix the hot mess that is the portal system, or someone really hates you," Emma summed-up. "Wow."

It was the former, but Sam wasn't going to say so. "Well, I'm doing my best," she replied humbly instead. "We're at least able to maintain a 'Days Without Incident' tally now."

"Miss Frost, hello, I trust you aren't going to cause any trouble for us this year?" Jack asked as he came in. The fake-officious tone was entirely to amuse himself -- and because telling her how glad he was that she was on the island for the 19th time would be boring.

Tiny was glaring at Jack, oh yes.

"Your trust is misplaced," she informed him cheerfully, leaning on the bar. "I'm going to cause all sorts of trouble."

Jack glared back, willing Tiny to remember who hand;ed most of the bar's paperwork.

"Good to know that in advance," Jack told her. "Just don't get the CIA on our case again, will you? And no more than ten experiments with jello a night.:

"Only ten with jello, but how many with real fruit?" she asked. "I've always wanted to try infusing a watermelon with a bottle of vodka."

"You should try that at least once," Jack decreed. "Won't count it against the experiment tally, I'm just curious how it would go myself. Either delicious or disgusting, I'd say."

"Probably delicious," Emma decided, "the Skittles-infused vodka might be disgusting."

Tiny was possibly trying to hide under the bar at the idea of Emma dictating alcohol-experiments for the entire summer.

"People do that to good alcohol?" Jack shuddered. "I shouldn't be surprised. Last week our shipment included samples of wedding cake and pickle flavors."

"Cake?" Color Emma interested. "I'll try the cake, if no one else is brave enough."

"I can't give you any here until your birthday," Jack reminded her nobly, before admitting, "... but it might happen to end up in my bag before I go home. Purely for the purposes of experimenting, you understand."

"By that logic, I won't be able to test any of my own experiments, which leaves you and Tiny as my lab rats," she pointed out cheerfully. "Isn't that fun?"

Tiny did not think this sounded fun. Tiny was going to go bother the DJ and get away from the girl with the crazy-brain.

Jack slid his eyes toward her. "Do you want to ask Eric for an exemption so you can 'test'?" he asked, pleasantly. "That would be fun."

"I might just make the experiments into the Tuesday Night Special, and see who bites," Emma answered. "If there's some left-over to sample at home, well, Eric probably wouldn't object to that."

For your boogie!

Where the owner may or may not be lurking.

The owner was indeed lurking: on his phone with Candy Crush, stuck on the fucking 55th level.

Allie would get an earful about this on Friday, oh yes.

Emma waited until she didn't need to be a telepath to know Eric was possibly going to smash his phone before bringing over one of the very nice and expensive TruBlood blends. "I'm amazing, but fixing phones is not one of my specialties," she reminded him as she set-down the drink.

[OOC: Boo, timezones, boo...]

He glanced up at her. "This game is stupid and I hate it."

Because Tuesday.

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The Devil's Nest, Tuesday

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