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Devil's Nest | Thursday Evening

Despite the fact that Annie had actually slept for a not-insignificant portion of the day, she was still pretty tired when she wound her way into the bar tonight. And after two weeks away -- and the things she'd gone through over those two weeks -- she was too happy to be back at her regular old bartending job to even care about what in the hell was up with the olive thing.

But she did also kind of wonder if that was for her, the balloon-arch-style structure of olives constructed behind the bar tonight.

"I like it," she told Tiny, her only contribution towards him tonight. No questions of whether he'd missed her, or explanations of where she'd gone.

Her specials were gonna be simple, too.

Specials
Chocolate Chip Cookies and Bailey's Shake
Strawberry Shortcake Boozy Shake
Kahlua Cookies and Cream Shake

It was kind of just nice to be home.

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Drink! Annie's making milkshakes, but Tiny also makes things that don't have, like, a crazy sugar content, necessarily.

Get some aggression out. Annie might, later, if she's feeling up to it.

Maybe there's a lurky vampire lurking?

In the particularly convoluted logic that was Amaya Blackstone's, time was running pretty short for figuring out a way of getting out of this shopping trip tomorrow in a convenient and most of all supposedly accidental fashion. She couldn't quite bring herself to establish a poorly timed smashed hand or a clandestinely conceived bit of arson, though, but, hey, a potential incident with a drunkenly thrown axe certainly did have some appeal!

If anything, even if she didn't get to the ill-advised axe-throwing, she was definitely going to use the drink.

Which was why the specials board was getting a particularly dubious but also speculative look as Amaya made her way to the bar, because she was feeling that road could lead to a lot of regret.

The real question here, then, was whether it could be useful regret.

"You know what?" she decided. "I think I might need to try that strawberry one."

Eric came out of the office and stared at the olive arch. "Well, at least it's not the Olive de Milo," he muttered.

Tiny rumbled something under his breath.

"Oh, that's in the cold storage unit?" Eric rolled his eyes. "Drink. Big one. No olives."

Edited 2022-08-25 12:07 (UTC)

"Per usual, you have great taste, Amaya," Annie congratulated her, grabbing her ice cream scoop. "How's it going?"

For the record: short of her actually being in hospital, Amaya's shopping companion would broker very few excuses. And even then, if she was laid up in traction, that just sounded like they'd have to cozy up with a screen or two and shop online!

"Is this a new thing I've missed?" Annie asked, nodding to the arch and just letting Tiny go ahead and handle Eric's drink (because she knew it was gonna be a blood thing, probably, and she was way more okay just sticking to scooping ice cream tonight, thank you. There was knowing you carried the bottled blood, and then there was, like, pouring it and maybe microwaving it, ew.) "It's very creative."

"Tiny needs more to do," Eric said flatly. "He's taken up olive sculpture. You should've seen the bar last week--the entire place smelled like brine."

"Seems like a waste of garnishes, too," noted the woman who routinely ate all the maraschino cherries over the course of her shift. "Maybe he needs, like, a cleaning project he can work on over time."

Just Tiny. Not her. Annie -- and, like, Octavia and Lucifer, right? They worked here too? Workers of the world et cetera et cetera -- did not need a side project.

Eric nodded. "He should use the cocktail olives," he declared. "They're disgusting."

A menace. That woman was an absolute menace, but that also begged the question of how that menace would feel if said excuses only lead to her having to hold back Amaya's massive hair for her on account of far too many boozy milkshakes.

(Although the more frugal, scrupulous side of Amaya would also contemplate if there might be a discount on trousers if the trouseree had all too recently and tragically lost a leg thanks to an axe throwing incident...)

"Oh, well," Amaya drawled, in that universally dismissive way of all people who had a bit too much going on but were desperate to ignore every single bit to of it, "not a whole lot. Figured I'd drop in, though, maybe have a look at the axes. New semester coming up, I'm sure Eric'll want 'em all good and sharp, been a while since I checked in on them, anyway, and might as well enjoy the wares while I'm here.

"....and the new decor, too, it seems."

Look, she wasn't actually going go mention the olives, but now that she was right there, it was almost impossible not to.

"Definitely...a choice."

What a bonding experience that would be, though. (And, honestly, probably entirely too illuminating to that menace how she wouldn't mind holding back all that hair, and how she'd just want Amaya to feel better, and oh, shit.)

Shame about that leg, though. In theory.

"Tiny," Annie explained, throwing some strawberries and the vodka in her blender pitcher. "Apparently he's taken up a new hobby? I dunno, I'm kinda catching up -- I had a whole, like, psychopath back home to deal with for a couple weeks, and apparently that was enough time for Tiny to decide that olives are like...his medium."

"It's not going to make them less disgusting to sculpt with them," Annie pointed out.

"Clearly that's not a dealbreaker," Eric said, glaring at the arch. "And we use the olives."

(Ugh. That's what she was afraid of).

And it was a very good leg, too! Amaya may be all about those arms, but she was never one to skip a leg day, either.

A look of mild sympathy passed over Amaya's face at the whole 'psychopath back home' ordeal, because, really, what could you do?, before considering Tiny's handiwork a little more.

"Could be worse, though."

How, Amaya? How?

"Could be onions?"

Was that really worse, though?

"At least you're all pretty safe from it being garlic, all things considered."

Sometimes you just had to look on the bright side.

Edited 2022-08-25 12:55 (UTC)

"Have we tried turning this into something profitable?" Annie tried. "I mean, I'm sure someone would pay us to eat a Tiny sculpture."

Someone ate Summer's grosser jello shots, after all. There was a lid for every pot.

"Or we could do, like, a 'guess how many olives are in this full-scale replica of Michelangelo's David,'" she suggested.

"That's true," Annie noted, though she wondered how effective garlic actually was against vampires, anyway. She probably should have researched that, given that she didn't like...entirely trust Eric (because sometimes she was pretty smart), but when you could shoot sunlight out of your hands and your skin was impenetrable, vampires didn't tend to be a huge concern, anyway. "I'm kinda thinking about encouraging orange slices just for variety."

And smell. Citrus > brine, after all.

And with that pronouncement, Annie fired up the blender -- hands-free, naturally, because today was all about a return to roots.

"Oranges and lemons and limes would make for a more ap-peel-ing," hey, now, that one was actually pretty good! Amaya was just going to take a moment to be impressed by her own unexpected cleverness that, "approach, aesthetically speaking, anyway, if you ask me. But welcome back, either way."

Rey hadn't talked to Annie in a while, and she had a few free minutes between training and people needing her for something.

How are things going?

"Thanks!" Annie replied cheerfully as the blender whirred to a stop, and she moved to pour out the shake. "I actually ended up quitting my other job 'cause of the whole psychopath thing, so I'll be around more."

And with that, she crowned Amaya's shake with whipped cream and a little strawberry garnish, proud of her creation -- though, belatedly, she realized something. "Sadly I'm gonna be a little lighter on the VoughtLand free passes, though."

Annie had kind of wondered whether Rey was even on the island at the moment, given that she knew she had her own stuff going on back home, these days.

But hey, at least one of them had caught a break for the moment.

pretty okay. I'm back in Fandom. Prob permanently, actually.

And it was feeling like the right choice more and more every day.

And just looking at that drink as Annie presented told Amaya that, yeah, overdoing it on these was going to wind up being more trouble than even she was willing to deal with just to potentially get out of a shopping trip...

...better just stick to tequila or something, after this one.

But that little detail at the end made her snort a little; that VoughtLand excursion had been a good one. She was pretty sure she'd almost seen Diaz smirk at some point, even without the cheap knock-off Spider-Man equivalent she'd been hoping for.

"Out of the superheroing business now, then, I take it?" she guessed.

This would just result in that shopping menace providing hangover cures, helpfully. Maybe some hair of the dog! Possibly from a flask in her handbag, even.

"The corporate superheroing business, anyway," Annie amended, nodding. "The powers didn't go anywhere and I still like helping people -- I'm just, like, doing it freelance, rather than for a company that'll give me my very own carousel."

She cocked a finger at Amaya, realizing. "The psychopath is the blond guy with the flag cape all over VoughtLand, incidentally." You know. Their Mickey Mouse. So that was, like, nbd.

She did not think Amaya or Rosa had probably wasted their time seeing Crimson Countess' presentation on Soldier Boy when they were there, or she might have mentioned him, too. Kind of a shame, since that show was probably on indefinite hiatus, now.

"Miss January!"

Look, it had been long enough since he'd seen you, Annie, that you even got a smile out of him when he spotted you behind the bar. Statistically speaking, unless your name was Steven Grant, that was pretty rare.

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Devil's Nest | Thursday Evening

Bar | 8/25

Axe Range | 8/25

Back Office | 8/25

OOC | 8/25

Re: Bar | 8/25

Re: Bar | 8/25

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