Morningstar Manor

The Lamb was never exactly quiet but Wednesday was one of its slightly less busy nights and there were a few free tables and the dartboard was free.

Charlie came in and looked around, waved to Molly and headed for the bar. "Hello sweetheart," he said. "Happy thhhhhhinko da mayo. Guiness please. Ah - and one for my friend here. What're you having?"

Cook was on some rampage, so Conn was keeping out of the way. Whistling, he swept up the floor to the tunes filtering from the jukebox and pushed in the chairs that had been scattered all over the place. He was so glad the Lamb wasn't one of those hoity toity places with little candles on the tables, which was a strange thought to think out of the blue like that, but hey...he meant it.

One bunch assorted wildflowers tied with a red ribbon, card accompanying to read:

I usually send flowers when I've screwed up, so I figure I'll get started now so maybe when I do, you'll already be in the mood to forgive me. xo, Conn

Molly had fussed over her the moment she walked in, insisting she should go back home and rest. Cook had apologized over and over for going home early and nearly crushed her in a hug and Kara was pretty sure she'd seen tears in his eyes. She'd endured their fussing and assured them she was fine and would take it easy then took her place behind the bar.

A lot of the customers wanted to know what had happened, if she was okay, and she found herself explaining things more than she wanted.

"But should you really be here?" one of the old timers asked and Kara smiled at him.

"Ah, love, it'll take a lot more than a couple bastards getting over excited to keep me away," she said and a couple of the guys cheered and let her get on with things.

And she did good - mostly. She only got startled a few times and nearly dropped something.

"Kara, d'ya have any clue what these are for?" Connor asked, utterly perplexed, holding out a cardboard box full of green glittery high heeled shoes -- miniature ones, not meant for feet. At least not any size feet he'd ever seen on a real person.

Generally Kara wasn't one of those that hated Mondays. It was simply another day. Today however she was fully in agreement that Monday's sucked.

The Karma tea had sold like mad and even though they'd gotten a shipment in just last week it was already nearly gone. And she'd been told the next shipment was running late. Which made for some bitchy customers.

On top of that she'd woken with a horrible headache that didn't seem to show any signs of going away no matter how much pain reliever she'd taken, Molly was going to be late due to car issues and Jack was working overtime at the Manor.

Yes, Mondays sucked.

Kara loved her job. She really did. She loved being behind the bar. Loved being an ear or a shoulder for the folks that needed it. Loved to flirt a bit with the older guys and watch them smile as they got the attention of a 'lovely young lass' once again. And at the holidays it was even better because there were a fair few who had nowhere to go and no one to spend the time with and they would come here, to the softly lighted and warm pub and it was like an extended family.

Today was one of those days - a couple of old timers sitting at a back table playing Dominoes, one guy that she knew had recently lost his wife and trusted that Kara wouldn't let him overdo it on the drink while still drowning his troubles, a group of girls that were eying up a group of young men playing pool.

And Kara stood behind the bar, dressed in jeans, a tight flannel top, and a Slaughtered Lamb apron tied round her waist, and just smiled at them all as she dried some glasses.

Kara was bummed that she was missing the Manor party but the Lamb was having one of its own and she had to be there. It was a popular place for those that were on their way to, or back from, a party. Decorated in more traditional ways candles flickered everywhere, dried herbs hung here and there, a few pentacles, and the staff were in full costume appropriate to a medieval pub.

Kara was certainly turning a few heads in here costume, as was Molly and even Cook was dressed up. It might not be the Manor but it was still fun.


[ooc: You don't have to play in here if you don't wish to but it's open if you do]

Andras was lurking.

He was lurking with his mid-level Nikon and a pint of cider outside the Lamb, and taking pictures of things he saw: people walking past, small yappy dogs, nice leather-lad rears on motorcycle, bored blokes picking their noses inside SUVs that went slow in the after-work traffic.

Snap -- and now he had taken a picture of you!

Niles had recieved a very cordial invitation to the Lamb from a very pretty blonde. Not one to let opportunities pass, he showed up there Saturday nigt dressed in a blue and grey plaid button down unbuttoned to show his chest tattoo and with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his favorite and best fitting jeans, and black boots.
He didn't see Kara at first, and, figuring it'd be just his luck that she'd be gone or something by the time he got there, he sat down to have a beer and see if she, or anyone else would show up.

Friday nights at the Lamb were always busy. Not the insane busy you got at the clubs and some of the bars in the City but the nicely packed company of friends and regulars. It might keep Kara hopping but she loved it.

Tonight she had enough people working the bar and the tables that she could mostly come and go as she pleased and was doing so, stopping to talk to regulars, flirt with those that expected it, agree to hear one group of young men play in the hopes they might play some live music sometime at the bar, the usual thing.

But she always kept an eye on the door and the bar in case she was needed.

The Lamb always has a rather Irish feel about it but tonight everything about it is green. Not the beer, though - that would be sacrilege.

There are traditonal dishes on the menu - irish stew and colcannon amongst them - traditional drinks and also traditional music both live and piped.

Drink at the bar, eat at the tables, and there is a dance floor for anyone gutsy enough to brave the speed of the fiddler.