|User:||truesin_rpg (posted by dont_rush)|
|Subject:||A Man Walks Out of a Bar|
The natives were getting restless. She was the only bartender on duty and it was heading into the peak busy hour of the night. She cleaned a glass with a rag without really paying attention; she was just spreading dirt around. Jamie was worried she was starting to have a mini-breakdown. Her co-worker, an Eastern European immigrant girl with architecturally big hair, was an hour late, and Jamie was pretty certain she was at home fucking around with the new grease ball she had nabbed from this very bar a week previously.
"Hey, we asked for a pitcher over here! Step on it, will you? We're starting to get sober." A round of slurred laughter issued from a table in the center of the tavern. Jamie set down the Collins glass with a heavy sigh, grabbed a plastic pitcher and held it under one of the domestic taps. The idiots didn't care what swill they drank, as long as it counted as the three-dollar pitcher special that was currently drawing in this sophisticated set of clientele.
Muttering under her breath, she brought the beer over to the table. A backwards-cap wearing lug was currently setting fire to a cocktail napkin by holding it over one of the cheap candles in a votive jar that counted for ambiance in the place. "Hey, cut it out," she said, slamming the pitcher on the table and sloshing some onto the drunkard's lap. "You're going to set off the sprinklers."
Doing his best to keep a low profile, Jensen watched the commotion at the table from his station in the far corner of the bar. He wasn't necessarily here to drink -- though there was a half-empty beer in front of him -- Jansen was testing himself. He wanted to see how long he could last within the company of the waitresses and some of the other clientele in this dive without completely losing it. If he was to begrudgingly oblige to the sheriff's request, Jensen at least wanted to know that he could do it.
( Interesting Types )
[NPC Donald Jensen written by Jeff]