For a moment, Rorschach considered leaving. After all, he was sitting there alone, leaning against the bar while the bartender left to presumably speak with the owner. Or not. He wasn't sure how this worked. He had been a dock boy ten years ago, moving shipments on and off freight ships, but that had been a long time past. His memories of actually applying were still hazy. So he waited, glancing up when the bartender returned. She told him that the boss would be down shortly, and to simply wait there. So he did.
Five minutes later, a warm voice pulled his attention from his casual observation of every entrance and exit that he could see from his current seat. His head turned to face her, and he stood up off his stool to greet her. At her comment, he merely nodded. Yes. He had asked for her.
He returned the handshake just as firmly, noting her grip. It was powerful for a woman, with a bit of hidden ferocity beneath its surface. He suspected a Creation, as he was starting to find that people from Musings became a bit more extraordinary after crossing over. But of course, only time would tell this woman's story - and he suspected she was the sort to not even let that unravel her.
"Looking for work," he said, voice low and gruff. It was gravelly and worn, a voice that hadn't been treated well over the years. His gaze flicked over the club-goers, settling on one of the doors. "Maybe a bouncer."