Welcome to Fangtasia (George and Eric log)
Eric moved through the front spaces of Fangtasia, confused and more than a little irritated. He'd stayed here last night in a special place reserved for himself and Pam. He'd gotten up, expecting the night to be like any other night. Of course, when he'd opened the doors he realized that nothing was the same. Looking around for that stupid idiot of a day girl and not finding her just confirmed it. She might have been lacking most of her brain cells, but she knew enough to do her job, do it on time, and do it well.
He couldn't be sure how he'd gotten to this new place, or what this new place even was. It was just not his place, that much was obvious. He was pretty sure it wasn't even Louisiana. His home state had a certain feel, a certain smell, and of course a certain look. This place had none of that. None of it at all. He was in some new, very unusual city, and he was quite sure he wasn't going to like it. At the moment, he wasn't even willing to give it a chance.
At the moment, he was actually trying to get rid of the fucking "Help Wanted" sign that was on the front door. Every time he took it down and threw it away, or crumpled it up and then threw it away, or tore it to tiny little bits and then threw it away, it just reappeared on the door where it had been. He didn't need help. He didn't want help. He had a staff. He would find them and bring them back. Or he would find a way out of this place, where ever it was. Or he would just hole up in Fangtasia until whatever drugs he was on wore off. The thing he would not do? Hire new help. It was out of the question.
Eric sat at the bar on one of the stools. Trying to think of what he should do, how he could get out of this. Trying to control his whirling emotions, though they didn't show on the outside, he had a storm on the inside. Things he wasn't used to feeling normally, things he didn't like feeling. Like confusion. It was not often in his life, even in his life as a human, that Eric had found himself truly confused about anything. That he was now, at this moment, made him more than a little angry. Angry at himself, and the place he was now in. Angry at everything that he could conceivably be angry at. Or about. How does somebody go to sleep one morning and wake up upon sunset in an entirely different place, yet in the very building they went to sleep in?
Fangtasia. That was new. But the money she once had disappeared with her former boss and George wasn't the type of reaper that scavenged the belongings of the dead. Well. Except for her apartment. And her red convertible. That was completely different than stealing someone's wallet or their shoes.
"Who the fuck names a bar Fangtasia?" George muttered to herself as she pushed open the door. "Hello? Anyone here? I saw the sign on your door. Uhh... this is a..."
Really tacky bar decked out in red and black like a Twilight fangirl's wet dream?
"...nice place.... You have."
George was a terrible liar. But she didn't care. She needed rent money.
Eric turned and was at the doorway to stop the female from further entry before a blink could even happen. He didn't look her over very well, didn't study her. Which was all very unlike him. But none of it mattered. All that he cared about was her not being in here right now. Or ever again, for that matter. But for now, he wanted peace. Quiet. He needed to think. Needed to consider his options, if there were any.
"You need to turn around and leave now." He said to her, quietly. Menacingly, he hoped.
He wouldn't comment on her take on his place. He just took the sign off of the door - again - and ripped it up, letting the pieces fall where they might. He didn't even want to look in the garbage can behind the bar and see how many of them were already in there, destroyed.
"Uh. Actually I need a fucking job." The speed was certainly surprising. Plenty of things about The City were and George had certainly never seen Karen display any of her supernatural power like that. But was she afraid? No. She was not afraid of grumpy fast people. George was dead. She had very little to be afraid of.
A thought dawned on her.
"Are you always this big of an asshole or are you just new?" It was an honest question, despite George's characteristically fowl mouth.
George did not want to play the part of the welcoming committee.
"...Maybe I should come back after someone's explained the whole City thing to you."
She took a step backward.
"I am not hiring." He glanced down briefly at the "Help Wanted" sign to draw her attention to it. He thought his actions would have spoken for him, but apparently, the girl needed to be directed to things. He didn't mind being called an asshole. If it would get her to leave, he would become an even bigger asshole.
But something else stood out to him in the words she'd said. First she'd asked if he was new. Then she'd named the place they were in. The City. He could very plainly hear the capitalization of the two words as she spoke them. As if that was it's name. The entirety of it's name. As if there wasn't any greater creativity to the place or the people in it.
Again, he was moving fast, this time to shut the door behind her and bar her exit. He hadn't wanted her here, but now that he thought he could get some answers, he didn't want her gone. The girl didn't seem to be afraid of him yet, but that could change, should she decide to fight against his wishes. He'd ripped people apart before, he wasn't against doing it again. Especially, he thought suddenly, if it helped to alleviate some of this anger he was building.
"Tell me of this place." It wasn't a question.
"Okay," she said in a drawn out exhale. "This is The City. It chose you to live here. You don't have a choice. Get used to it. Keep fighting it and it will find ways to fuck with you. ...Do I get a job for answering these questions?"
George crossed her arms. She glowered. It was one of the few facial expressions she wore with any regularity. How she convinced people they were dead and to move on was almost entirely circumstantial and had very little to do with her lacking people skills.
Eric shook his head. It wasn't really an answer to her question, but a denial of everything she'd said. "What do you mean it chose me to live here? A place is not a living thing. It cannot decide things. It cannot... no." He shook his head more. "Why, then? Why me? Why bring me here? Where is everybody else? Pam was here last night as well, and she's not here. Why would it bring me here, why bring Fangtasia here? How do you know we cannot leave again?"
"Because it didn't fucking want Pam, I guess. And you can leave again, if The City decides to let you leave. People come and go. It's just how it works. Maybe it'll bring Pam in later. Maybe it'll take Fangtasia away. I don't fucking know. But if you didn't put that sign up, it means The City did and if you don't hire me The City will hire someone for you. Might as well make it on your own terms."
George would appreciate the denial portion of their conversation being over any time now. It felt too much like her other job. The one she didn't get paid for.
"My last employer was a vampire," George offered. The name of the establishment, the tall man's speed-- it wasn't hard to guess what he was. "She's gone now but I'm sure she would have given me a good reference...?" George hadn't meant to inflect a question in her last statement. It just sort of happened. Karen had probably been too intoxicated to give George any sort of real reference. Just as well.
Eric moved away from the door, further into Fangtasia. He slipped into one of the booths and propped his elbows up on the table. There was a lot more that he was going to have to find out. But he didn't guess that this female was going to give him the answers that he wanted. No, she was unruly and sarcastic. She was rude. She was brash. Eric thought he might in the long run get along with her. She wanted a job. Apparently, this place wanted him to have a staff, and wasn't going to let him not hire anybody. He supposed he might as well deal with this part of it now, and deal with the rest of it as it came.
"Sit."
He watched her move, and then took the moment to study her. She looked human. But she didn't smell human. There was no smell to her at all, actually. Something he'd never before encountered. No smell. Even dead people smelled like something. Even bones that had been bleached clean by the sun of all their flesh smelled of something. Even vampire dust smelled of something.
"Tell me what you are." That was the most important thing to him right now. What she was. Why she smelled like nothing. "And what you did for this former employer."
George walked over slowly as if she weren't a hundred percent sure he'd had a change of heart and was going to hire her. In that case she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him everything. She slid into the booth which reminded her of booths of Dur Waffle House-- same familiar plush feeling.
"Undead." That seemed safe to disclose. "My last boss was an alcoholic when she was human. So basically I was supposed to drink so she could get intoxicated with my blood." George decided not to mention the drug addict part. Binge Drinking Blood Doll was probably not a very impressive title but at least it was honest. George lacked scars from her last occupation.
He tilted his head ever so slightly. Studying her further. She was, he supposed, what he would normally consider a Fangbanger. But she didn't really seem the type externally. It took all kinds. But he shook his head.
"Undead doesn't cut it. What are you. You're no vampire. But you're not human. Certainly not a fairy. That I would smell all over you." Just the thought of it was enough to make his mouth water a little bit. "There's no great power around you. You have no scent, however. Your clothes do, they smell like clothes. Your hair smells of the shampoo you used. But you. There's no you."
Eric made a motion with his hand to encourage her to explain more. He hoped it conveyed that if he didn't know, he couldn't trust her, and she wouldn't be hired. He didn't want to have to spell that out for her. If he did, he would not hire her based on her inability to comprehend simple instructions. He already had to deal with one idiot day girl, he didn't want to have to deal with another. Especially not if he was getting something of a pass to start over with this hiring thing.
George stared at him. Eyebrows knit in an unhappy expression.
"Fuck. Fine. It's not as if other people don't know anyway. But you're not allowed to freak the fuck out. Just remember that you asked."
Some day George was going to get in trouble for letting so many people know who she was, what she was. But it wasn't as if The City didn't constantly put her in situations that revealed what she was anyway. She couldn't be entirely at fault for that.
"...I'm a grim reaper."
There was an ever so slight movement of his eyebrows in an upward direction. In reality, on the inside, Eric was stunned. A grim reaper. Death. Now if that wasn't a hell of a thing. He said nothing to her, but considered all of his options. What could he do with death on his side? Truly, on his side. It also put forth the curiosity about her previous employer and the fact that she'd been a blood bag. He was curious now about her taste. About her flavor. He wondered if she would be addictive like a fairy. If the blood would explode in his mouth, treating him to some wondrous new delight. Or if she would be more bland than a human. If she would be tasteless entirely. Like that tofu he'd heard so much about and had no desire to even lick.
Eric decided that he would need to find that out.
But first, he needed to have this girl in his pay.
"You will be the day girl. For now. This means that you will accept shipments. You will open the bar. You will tend the bar until the sun goes down. You will make sure that if I am here, and it is day, I am safe. I am not easy to kill, but if I am harmed, you will be harmed. It might make it all the more fun for me that you cannot - I am assuming here - die. You will need to wear leather. Black." He thought a moment. "Your shift will end at nine pm. If you do satisfactory with these tasks, you will get more. Perhaps you will even become a regular night bartender and all these tasks will become somebody else's problem."
George crossed her arms petulantly.
"I have to be able to leave occasionally to do my other job. People still die during the day. It doesn't take very long normally. And I'm not dressing like a Hot Topic reject."
George didn't respond to his threat. She was pretty sure messing with a grim reaper would land him in some kind of cosmic hot water. But if it came down to that, he could find out for himself.
"You may leave only if there is somebody here to take your place. That will be your job to find somebody. Not mine. Otherwise you are to be here. Dressed in black leather. There is no option to this. Fangtasia has an image. If you wish to work here, you will be a part of that image. Not to mention it will make your tips higher, and your employer happier. If your employer is happy, he is more likely to not wish to hurt you. To keep you employed. You came here for this job. I did not seek you out."
As much as he might want her to be his, under his employ, under his rule, he was not going to give in to petty demands or refusals. This was his bar, and she would work under his rules. Or she would not work here at all. She would learn very quickly that he meant business and he didn't like his business interfered with, or she would know incredible amounts of discomfort. A small part of him actually hoped that she would agree and then be disobediant. If only so he could learn what he could do to a grim reaper.
"These terms are not negotiable."
George continued to negotiate.
The problem with Cosmic Justice, she realized, was that if something happened to her employer it could affect her ability to get paid. "Look. I'm sure you're mean and scary but I've counted at least four gravelings inside the bar alone. You can hurt me if you want, but if I were you I wouldn't want to attract their attention. I'll wear black. I'm not dressing like a chick on Halloween."
"I don't give a shit." He said, calmly. "What you see in this bar. I don't give a shit what sort of unearthly guardians you may have. What they might do to me if I harm you is of little consequence. I cannot kill you. Your lack of rebuttal on this issue has proven that much. What should it matter what happens to your physical form? Your laws are not vampire laws, and even those hold little meaning to me in extreme situations. You will do what you're told. You will dress as you're told. My word here is what you will abide by. Once again, you sought me out. You came here for this job. You need the money. I do not need to be the one to give it to you. I'm guessing you're looking for a certain kind of money, as well. Seeing that your last employer was a vampire. Money you cannot just find anywhere?"
Eric looked her over again. Studying her a little further than he had previously. She seemed used to getting her own way in life. If nothing else, that could be something fun to break her of. This impertinence. He rather liked his women strong, be they his in all ways, or just under his employ. So it would be a sad thing to have to do, break her. But he would unot deal with another nitwit. He would not deal with another flake.
"Keep in mind, you are not me. You will never be me. You cannot know truly what I care about, what I like, or how I think. Do not presume it again."
"I don't think you could pay me what she paid me. And I could get a job somewhere else and just tell my employer I have to go to an AA meeting or a doctor's appointment whatever other shit excuse I need to make. I can't force you to hire me. So do or don't already."
I will not rip out his soul and yell at him. I will not rip out his soul and yell at him...
Eric seemed so eager to talk about what kind of power he had, how much he could hurt her. She wanted to do the same. But she didn't. That was a whole level of irresponsible she didn't need to practice.
"Do you want a grim reaper watching over you during the day or not?"
Eric smiled. Clearly this one had not had a lot of dealings with vampires as employers. Or vampires in general. If she didn't know what he could pay her, then he wasn't going to have to pay her as much as she wanted. Really, he wasn't going to have to pay her very much more than what he payed his human employees. He could live with that. Money was no object for him, but if she wanted to believe that he didn't have as much of it as her previous employer, then she could believe that.
"Yes. But you walked in here, didn't you."
His lips twitched as he tried to keep his laughter inside. "Your pants must be leather. I will settle for vinyl. PVC. Whatever it's called. The rest of your outfit is up to you. But I expect you to dress to code. If you have any doubt about what that might be, just have a look around when we're open. You will know. And you will know if you are out of uniform. If you need to leave, you will find somebody to cover you until you return. You will not be paid for your time away from here. So if you wish a full paycheck, you will make up the time later in the night."
He leaned back in the booth, taking a relaxed posture that spoke nothing to how he was really feeling. "You will start tomorrow. We will open tomorrow night."
"I want hourly, not salary. And time and half for anything over 40 hours. How much are you paying?"
That seemed like an important question to ask if she was going to agree to all of this. Where the fuck was she going to find leather pants? George looked unhappy despite the fact that she had just been hired.
"If you were salary, it wouldn't matter what hours you worked or how you came and went. You would be paid the same regardless. I do not believe in salary." Eric liked people to work for what they earned, not mess around and take days off at a time for no apparent reason and still get paid for it. "You will start at twenty an hour plus whatever tips you manage to make. It's more than I pay my human employees to start. Seeing as you're not human, though, you stand to get some special privileges. As with everything else, those will begin few, and if you prove to be worthwhile, will grow."
Eric could see that he'd already beaten her down about the pants. It pleased him. It was such a small and silly thing to get pleasure out of, but with the night he'd been having already, he was going to take any small joy he could find out of this new and strange life. A life that now included a grim reaper on his payroll. It really was a pity that Pam wasn't around, she'd get a kick out of this one. Everything about her.
"Glad to see that we could come to an agreement. I think that you will like it here at Fangtasia. It's never dull."
"In that case I think you'll like The City. You'll never be bored." She looked unhappy when she said that. George wouldn't have minded a little bit of dull. The City had provided her with more than enough excitement to last several lifetimes. And George wasn't even that old.
"I'm George. If you're not paying me under the table the paperwork needs to read Millie Hagen. Georgia Lass is technically dead."
He stood up and went to the office and was back again before she could make another sound. He put down the forms that she needed to fill out. "George but Millie. Interesting. Technically dead. I'm sure there's a story there that I'll get to hear one day." Eric didn't return to the seat across from her again. He stood next to it, instead. "I'm Eric. Eric Northman. Fill out what you need to fill out how you need to do it. Pa... Somebody else will deal with the rest of it." He realized he was going to have to hire somebody to deal with this side of things. He could do it, he just hated to. It was boring. There were always more exciting and more important things that he could be doing.
"Not having anybody here that I'm used to is going to take a while to sink in, isn't it."
George immediately began filling in all the required fields without looking up from what she was doing.
"Tell me about it. I used to work at a temporary employment agency. You want me to take care of my own paperwork?" Showing initiative? Being willing to do the boring parts might mean not having to do the customer service parts later on, right?
"If you know how to do it, do it." At least she wouldn't be paid illegally until he found somebody to deal with all of it. Maybe he could make her do this job as well until he found a suitable replacement. It could be like a second job for her or something. Eric was pretty sure he'd never encountered an otherly being that needed a job so badly as this one did. What did a grim reaper need money for, anyway? More questions for later, he supposed.
"Have you worked in a bar? Do you need to be shown what to do to open up, the invoices for deliveries?" He really hoped that she was going to say no. But he had a feeling that his luck wasn't going to carry him that far.
"I've drank in bars. Twice. That would be about the sum of my experience." But he had already hired her, so she didn't particularly try to sound like teaching her would be no big deal.
"...You're not going to drink my blood, are you? Because if you are I think that should cost extra."