fandomtownies | Caritas, Friday Evening

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Caritas, Friday Evening

There was a shirtless bartender at Caritas tonight. While it might have seemed otherwise, this had not been planned. Mike had been taking stock of the inventory and, yeah, he had no idea what it was, maybe some gremlins had been playing around with the bottles or something because one of them got knocked over right at him, drenching his shirt.

And because he didn't want to spend his entire shift stinking like tequila – at least when he hadn't actually had any – clearly the only solution had been to take off his shirt and hang it to dry in the back.

Good thing he wasn't shy about showing some skin, right?

TONIGHT'S SPECIALS
The Kicker
Skin and Bones
Dance Naked

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The zombies might be playing some strip club style music every once in a while.

Where your bartender for the evening has no shirt.

The perils of living in a small town: sometimes when Kitty got bored, she had to go to her place of work because there wasn't a ton of other stuff.

"...Okay," she decided when she got there. Not complaining.

"Dumped a freaking bottle of tequila on myself," Mike replied, gesturing at himself, in lieu of a greeting. Might as well get right to the point. "Didn't feel like stinking of it the whole night."

"Can't blame you. And it'll be a bonus to your customers," Kitty said.

"Very true," Mike nodded agreeably, with a chuckle. "And it's hardly the first time I've done half-naked customer service."

Because that was what stripping was, clearly.

"Tell you the truth, feels like coming home."

"Next thing you know, you've co-opted the stage..." Kitty teased.

Mike smirked and shrugged his shoulder.

His bare, muscular shoulders. Yes. "Well, maybe, if the money's good enough."

"Well, I would not be able to pay that much," she said. Sad. "Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes." The shrug was slighter this time, and the smile a little more wry. "Women, money, and a good time, you know? I mean, if I could just do the dancing part, I probably would. I don't really miss the whole, uh... the whole lifestyle that goes with it."

"Ever thought about going mainstream with the dancing?" Kitty wondered.

Mike snorted.

"Meaning?"

"I mean try out for a troupe or something," she said.

"I don't know, I think those guys are generally more like, trained and educated than I am," he hazarded, leaning against the bar. "I'm more... street, if anything."

"If you can move, you're trainable," Kitty said. "Backup dancers are a thing. There's also choreographing."

"It's not really something I've thought about," Mike admitted. Even if the thought was in his head now. "Don't know. Think I might be getting too old, too."

"You are so not old," she assured him.

Just don't think too hard about her age.

"Too old to break into professional mainstream dancing," Mike clarified. "I don't think I'm old otherwise, thank you very much. Although I appreciate the vote of confidence coming from a teenager."

He knew she wasn't a teenager.

"Always remember that I can dock your pay, bub," Kitty said, but she was smiling.

"I have multiple jobs just so I can make fun of you," he retorted.

Also smiling.

"Well... okay, that's a decent way to do it," she said.

If you prefer shirts.

And yet more shirts.

I just have a lot of shirtless icons.

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Caritas, Friday Evening

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