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Tweak says, "All you of Earth are IDIOTS!"

mariawarrington (mariawarrington) wrote in heureuxlake,
@ 2025-01-02 18:57:00

Entry tags:

Δ threads, → cap pucey, → dorret loving, → eric reed, → evangeline ellison, → gregory harris, → kamari mousavi, → mal webber, → maria warrington, ∞ 2000: 12, ◦ sunny's bar & club

RP: Karaoke for a new year
Who: Open to all
What: A special holiday karaoke night about new beginnings
When: December, 31st, 2000 [Backdated]
Where: Sunny's Bar & Club
Warnings: Open
Completion Status: Ongoing

Come one, come all, and sing away your regrets.
Welcome the new year with a song in your heart, a drink in your hand, and a friend by your side, at Sunny's.

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Evie & Cappie

_evangeline_
2025-01-03 09:44 pm UTC (link)

Evangeline stepped into Sunny’s – one of the places on the list her soon-to-be landlady, Iris, had sent her, when she had asked about local bars that was open on New Year’s Eve – the warm air greeting her like a much-needed embrace after the chill outside. The bar was alive with energy, an ebb and flow of sound and movement. Laughter bubbled up from a group near the dart boards, while a woman’s voice – slightly off-key but bold and carefree – carried from the karaoke stage in the corner.

The emotions hit her almost at once, a jumbled tide of excitement, joy, and a faint undercurrent of nerves. Anticipation fizzed in the air, sharp and electric, mingling with the warmth of camaraderie and celebration. Beneath it all, she caught whispers of something quieter – loneliness, perhaps, or reflection, even some heartbreak – emotions that lingered at the edges, easy to miss if one wasn’t looking for them.

Evie drew in a steadying breath, her hand brushing the edge of her scarf, before she unwound it and folded it over her arm where she could still touch it. She focused on the texture of the fabric, letting it anchor her as she carefully filtered through the storm of feelings that weren’t her own. It was a well-practiced routine – identifying what belonged to her and gently setting the rest aside, like brushing crumbs off a table.

Her gaze drifted across the room, taking in the clusters of tables, the long bar counter lined with bottles that caught the light, and the raised section where dart boards and pool tables drew their own small crowds. The atmosphere buzzed with celebration, and though she felt the weight of unfamiliarity – new place, new people – it was impossible not to be drawn into the hum of it all.

As she made her way to the bar, she let herself settle into the rhythm of the room. The burst of emotions had subsided to a manageable hum, and while the weight of the past year still lingered in the back of her mind, the sense of new beginnings threaded through the air was impossible to ignore.

This was exactly why she’d come out tonight. Not for the karaoke or the crowd, but for a chance to lose herself in the energy of others, to mark the turning of the year with something more than quiet reflection.

She slipped onto a stool and gave the bartender a small nod. “Manhattan, please,” her voice crisp and clear amidst the local chatter.

The bartender, a man in his late twenties with a quick, easy grin, arched an eyebrow. “You got ID?”

Evie hesitated, caught off guard. “Really?” she asked, a trace of humour lacing her voice. She had heard about the American purity, but she had never been asked for ID back in England, and here, she was still old enough to buy a drink.

“Rules are rules,” he replied with a shrug, though there was an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes. “Unless you’re after a Shirley Temple. No ID needed for that. Even comes with a cherry, just like a Manhattan.”

Her lips twitched as she fished her passport from her bag, sliding it across the counter with deliberate flair. He opened it, scanning the details, and then his grin widened.

“Well, well,” she said, setting the passport back in front of her. “Looks like it’s not just a Manhattan kind of it. It’s a birthday night!”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, as she tucked the passport away. “You don’t say,” she replied dryly, the faintest hint of a smile playing on her lips.

He laughed softly, nodding as he began to mix her drink. When he returned, she accepted the glass with a quiet thanks and took a sip, letting the bittersweet flavour settle on her tongue.

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Evie & Cappie

_evangeline_
2025-01-03 09:45 pm UTC (link)

For a while, she simply watched the ebb and flow of the bar. Conversations rose and fell, someone cheered over a pool shot, and another brave soul took the stage to tackle a rock anthem. It was a lively space, the perfect blend of energy and warmth.

She was halfway through her drink, when the bartender returned, placing a drink in front of her. With a failed attempt at stifling his grin, he added a stemmed cherry to the top of it. “For the birthday girl,” he said, his grin now unapologetic. “Figured a Dirty Shirley might suit you better than a straight Shirley Temple. Whiskey. Bold, but not too sweet.”

Evie glanced at the drink, then back at him, her brow arching slightly in curiosity. “And if I’d looked like a tequila sort of woman?”

“Then that’s what it’d be,” he replied, undeterred. “But whiskey felt right.”

Her smile widened as she picked up the glass, the cherry stem brushing against her fingertips. “Cheers, then.”

The bartender nodded and moved on to another customer, leaving Evangeline to take a sip of her drink, the whiskey cutting through the grenadine’s sweetness in just the right way. She toyed briefly with the cherry stem, twisting it between her fingers, still slightly baffled – though highly amused – at what had just happened.