The Devil's Nest, Saturday, September 7th

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The Devil's Nest, Saturday, September 7th

"We are not leaving that sign up." Or rather, since Bo had already ripped it down and was using the rolled-up paper to gesticulate, it might be more accurate to say they weren't putting it back up. "I'm down with No Ukeleles, but No Gnomes? What the hell, Tiny? Since when did you turn racist? Okay, speciesist, whatever. Not cool."

A long explanation and a lot of eyerolling later, Bo reluctantly taped the sign back up. It now read:

NO creepy non-sentient, cursed, possessed and/or evil plastic GNOMES ALLOWED.

Non-creepy non-plastic non-evil gnomes are welcome unless you have a ukelele.

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Where your bartender was now surfing Evil Gnome Conspiracy websites on her phone. Thanks, Tiny.

Where there was no sign of a DJ, but the soundtrack from Friday Evening Flush was blasting away and the floor was doing that light-up thing and the disco ball was spinning and Bo was... just going to stay over by the bar. Yeah.

Edited 2013-09-07 19:06 (UTC)

Where if there were any creepy critters of vague Scandinavian origin around, they were hopefully the tall, pale, attractive kind.

Candy-corn M&Ms are disappointing.

Tamsin would be lying if she said she didn't know exactly what and who's shift she was walking into, but-- no, okay, that was it. She would be. She swaggered into the bar, taking her time to look around.

"So," she said, gesturing idly towards the sign, "Is he still upset about that? Because he's really unattractive when he cries." Sad face. The honesty was just pouring off of that one.

"Tell me about it; you should've seen him when they announced that the current Mister What was leaving."

And then she looked up. Because she was Bo and not blind, the reaction order went Heeeeey, pretty, and then wait, don't I know you?

"Dinah?" She'd only met the girl once, in the dungeons, but it had been a pretty memorable experience.

"What?"

From faux-sadness to pure what. face in under five seconds!

"No, I'm Tamsin. And you are a bartender. Right? Tend my bar."

Oh-kay then. "Technically it's Eric's bar. Viking guy, hangs out behind the velvet rope, looks like he could be your brother?" Bo shrugged. "But I'm good with selling you some of the liquid bits of it."

"How about you sell me a Bloody Mary, and we'll go from there?" Tamsin asked, adding a little nose-wrinkle to sweeten the pot. Sarcastic the pot. Something.

"Can do." Bo reached for the fridge, then paused. "The regular kind or the vampire kind? We've got TruBlood if that's your thing."

"Regular kind," Tamsin said. "Vampires, huh? Should've known. The decor really gives it away."

Candy corn everything is disappointing.

"I'm not; Eric is." Tomato juice it was. "I'm Bo, and you... really look a lot like Dinah. But we get a lot of that around here; you're not really in Fandom until somebody says 'Hey, didn't you try to kill me that one time?'"

JAKE.

"Oh, I know," Tamsin said casually, eyeballing her Bloody Mary during its construction. "You're the succubus."

"Roommates drink free!" Kenzi. Seriously. "Are we torturing Tiny, or is there a reason for that poster?"

That wasn't exactly a secret on the island anymore, not even an open one, but Bo didn't remember hearing about herself on the radio in the past few days. Though she did remember Tamsin's name, come to think of it; she just hadn't had a face to put to it before now. "And you're Jake's new trooper -- I like the no armor look. He did tell you I'm not the chick who tried to kill him that one time, right?"

"Roommates who are still eighteen can use my employee discount on Pepsi," Bo answered, not even bothering with an eyeroll. "Tiny apparently has gnomophobia this week."

Waving that last one off - sort of - Tamsin turned in her seat so she could drop her feet on the adjacent stool. She rolled her eyes, a dry, sarcastic smirk spreading across her face and said, "I'm a detective, not a trooper. Doyle can keep working out his armored fantasies on the other guys."

Edited 2013-09-07 20:56 (UTC)

Kenzi cackled, then tried to pretend she hadn't when Tiny gave her a paranoid look.

"I am getting way used to this grown-up thing," she claimed. "No classes. No clubs I have to sign up for."

...okay, she was a little bored. And considering mischief. "Do any of the new teachers teach theft?"

Bo snorted and dropped in the celery before nudging the drink across the bar. "I think the armor was there before Jake was. He used to just bartend, then they roped him into being Sheriff when the other guy took a job as dean of students at the school."

"Of c--" Wait. "Actually believe it or not, yeah. Sort of. There's a How To Steal A Princess class. Not quite sure that would benefit you, though."

"Talk about nepotism, huh," Tamsin said, grabbing her drink as soon as it moved vaguely in her direction. She lifted the glass and took a long sip. "Not bad, succu-bartender," she said. "You'll live to see another day."

CANDY CORN CANDY CORN IS MADE OF YUM. And sugar overdose that I probably wouldn't enjoy so I don't actually eat it now but still.

"Hold her for ransom? Liberate her from the monarchy? Who's teaching it?" Kenzi leaned over the bar to reach for a glass, 'cause hmm, maybe she was thirsty. "Would they give private lessons? I need to step up my game."

"Oh, good. I was scared you might detect me to death for a millisecond there." You know, the millisecond before she started drinking. "Not so much nepotism; it's just a little island. Lots of people do double duty; I work up at the school too."

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The Devil's Nest, Saturday, September 7th

The Bar [9/7]

The Dance Floor [9/7]

The VIP Area [9/7]

The OOC [9/7]

Re: The Bar [9/7]

Re: The Bar [9/7]

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Re: The OOC [9/7]

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Re: The OOC [9/7]

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Re: The Bar [9/7]