fandomtownies | Caritas, Saturday

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Caritas, Saturday

Tino wasn't here today. April didn't mind that at all. Not being subjected to her coworker's noxious personality was always fun, even if it meant she had to do more of her job in his absence.

More of it than zero, anyway.

She was openly drinking beer with a straw, so it wasn't a hundred percent, that was for sure.

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I'm probably going to sleep soon, but look, I remembered to post!

Bruce walked into the bar and took a seat. "Two questions jump to mind. First, Tino's not working? Second, do you usually use a straw for that?"

He wasn't judging that second point. He was amused.

"He's either deathly ill or watching TV," April shrugged. She hadn't paid much attention to his texts. "And yeah, sometimes. It's less work."

"I'm going to assume he's somewhere in the middle of those two points," Bruce noted. "I'm guessing my order should be something that doesn't take much work."

"Or he could be both at once," April suggested, twirling her straw between two fingers and causing some minor splattering. "And yeah, the easier, the better. If you want your drink done correctly, anyway."

She was just being honest!

"Let's keep it simple then. Scotch. On the rocks," Bruce said. "I hope you don't mind me adding that small degree of difficulty."

"I'll try," April said, in a tone suggesting that she doubted she'd be successful. She was joking, of course. She turned to start working on the drink, asking, "What would you have ordered if I said I was up to a challenge, an extra-salt strawmelon margarita?"

Edited 2013-11-24 08:29 (UTC)

"Since I didn't realize a strawmelon was even a thing, probably not," Bruce said with a grin. "But I might have gone with a martini or an old-fashioned."

April just shook her head. "You look like a strawmelon guy," she said, like that settled it. Then she slid Bruce's scotch across the bar.

There was a straw in it.

"You just have straws on the brain today, don't you?" Bruce teased. Who was he to argue with a theme?

"It's all a memorial tribute to my past life as a scarecrow," April assured him.

What did that even mean, April?

"This being Fandom, I have no idea whether or not that's true," Bruce noted. He knew it wasn't true. World's Greatest Detective, don't forget.

"It is," April said. "It's why I haven't adapted to emoting in my facial expressions."

"And here I was thinking that you just found your best expression and decided to stick with it," Bruce said. "But now I know better."

"Thanks?" April ventured. That was a pretty smooth compliment, she had to admit. "Your expression range is passably flattering too."

"Thank you. But this is only after years of practice," Bruce said. "Countless hours of classes, instructional books... It took a lot of work, but I think it paid off."

"I guarantee it's not worse than scarecrow school," April promised him. "Some of our teachers were mannequins." What.

"That seems ludicrous," Bruce said. "I just don't believe mannequins could relate to scarecrows well enough to teach them."

"You're right," April agreed. "I learned nothing in those classes."

"You seem to be doing okay for yourself despite that tragic setback," Bruce said. "It didn't keep you from being an entertaining bartender."

"Thank you," said April. "Bartending isn't as fun as scaring crows, but the tips are better. Usually."

Wink, wink.

"I think you dropped something," Bruce said. "You wouldn't be missing any hints, would you?"

"Don't worry, I take care of anyone who takes care of me in the service industry."

April smirked appreciatively, but couldn't help ribbing him a little. "So are you saying you don't tip other professions, like scarecrows, for example? That's discrimination, man."

"I've known a scarecrow or two who have ruined things for the rest of the profession," Bruce said. "But I'm willing to change my mind on a case-by-case basis if a scarecrow gives me exemplary service."

April clucked her tongue. "It's really difficult to scare crows with the necessary stoicism and posture on minimum scarecrow wage," she chided Bruce. "Especially in this economy."

Thaaaat was nonsense.

Edited 2013-11-24 21:05 (UTC)

"Don't be modest. I don't see any crows around here, so you're clearly doing your job well," Bruce said. "I'm sure that will factor into my tip."

"Well, thanks," April drawled, deciding that that was an adequate acknowledgement of the stresses of her fake profession. "In that case, if you ever need crows scared away from your house or whatever, I'm your guy." Girl. Whatever.

"I usually let the hotel staff worry about that, but I'll keep you in mind," Bruce said. "Who knows? Maybe we can find something to do to pass the time between crows."

Oh. Huh. "I could go for that," April agreed after a slight surprised pause. "You know, after I ditch the scarecrow makeup and all the straw and everything."

Edited 2013-11-24 21:34 (UTC)

"Of course. You have to be comfortable," Bruce reasoned. "WHat ar eyou doing after your shift tonight?"

"I was gonna see if my dog can eat popcorn, but I can wait on that till tomorrow," April said. "Think I should?"

"I'm no veterinarian, but I think you should give it some more thought tomorrow," Bruce suggested. He was reasonably sure it wouldn't endanger the dog's life, but he didn't want to recommend it, either.

Not to worry, Bruce. April had done significant research on the topic on about.com. "In that case, I'm free," she replied.

"Good. You don't have to bring your scarecrow gear this time if it's too last-minute," Bruce promised.

"Perfect, I'm all out of hay anyway," April said smoothly. "I get off at midnight."

Or she was going to close up the bar at midnight whether that was when her shift ended or not. Did it matter?

"I'm at the Arms, room 706," Bruce said, pulling his wallet out to pay for the drink. There was a healthy tip, too. "I'll see you at midnight."

It was probably notable that his glass was empty even if it would be hard to remember him taking a drink. He had trained with stage magicians, so that explained that.

"See you at midnight," April echoed, doing her best to contain a smirk at the tip. Then she double-checked, "Hey, your name's Bruce, right?"

It seemed like the kind of thing to be clear on before going to a guy's hotel room in the middle of the night. You know, as you do.

"Bruce Wayne. I own the Wayne Foundation here in town," Bruce said. He ran a charity! How could he be at all sketchy if he helped orphans? "And you're April?"

"Yup. Resident crow-scarer, bartender and manager of the animal shelter." A real jack of all trades, April was. "I'm gonna look you up on the internet now."

"That should keep you busy until midnight. I'm a fairly well known person in my world," Bruce said. He enjoyed understating things sometimes. "I wouldn't believe everything I read, though. A lot of it is just basic press rumor-mongering."

"Noted," April promised him. "Unless the rumors are that you're a serial murderer. But anything about you wearing ugly clothes on the red carpet, I pledge to ignore."

Edited 2013-11-25 08:35 (UTC)

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Caritas, Saturday

Stage

Bar

Lounge

Back Room

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