cat: a bourbon, please Who: Alex & Lucas. What:Lottery prompt. Where:Beach Ball. When: Backdated to Thursday, September 14, evening.
Cross-legged at the bar, Alex daintily wrapped a hand with well-cared for cuticles around the stem of her dirty martini. A dark green olive, speared with a transparent toothpick, floated in the middle and shifted as she lifted the glass toward her mouth. Dressed in a navy blue button up with a well-fitted black skirt, black pumps on her feet while her dress jacket hung off of the back of the chair behind her, she looked fresh off of work—and if only that were the case.
Instead, she was fresh from a bout of interviews, now looking to drown her subtle frustration with the job hunting process in alcohol and some quiet. She never liked to drink at home; at least, she never drank at home alone. Going out brought its own set of issues, namely her bleached skin and hair, but a few glares in the right places usually saw her left alone. Those who ventured close enough to her seat received some scalding remarks that sent them looking for somewhere else to park their keister for the evening. Thus the stools around her remained empty, perhaps inviting to someone entering without realizing they were empty for a reason.
Her eyes drifted up toward some sports game; soccer, at least, the San Jose Quakes playing the Atlanta United. With one hand wrapped around the glass, she perched her chin on her closed fist as she waited for the liquor to kick in.
Lucas, well into his vacation week, had been out for a walk after dinner at a restaurant several blocks away when he spotted the bar across the street. Thinking it might be nice to have a drink before heading home, he headed inside, greeting the typical sports bar atmosphere with a smile. TVs all over the place were playing a mixture of the current soccer game, and music videos on mute. He cheerfully headed towards the mostly empty bar, nodding to the bartender who ambled over to him. “Black and tan, please,” he said with probably excessive politeness for the current atmosphere. As the bartender headed off to fill his order, Lucas looked around himself, eyes settling on the well-dressed woman next to him.
“Rough day?” he asked casually. She looked to him like a professional, just off of a trying day at work, if the martini in her hand was any indication.
Alex suppressed the desire to wince as another random interloper strode up to the bar; on the one hand, she was well aware that people had to pass by her in order to even order, but making conversation was not required in that particular task. Some people just can't handle the silence, she thought, despite the fact that the bar was anything but; a low hum of conversation interspersed with music and chatter from televisions displaying the games.
She glanced in the man's direction, cattily glancing up and down over his figure. The question was neither rude nor necessarily polite, though it erred on the side of one while it's very existence wended it back in the other direction, at least in her opinion. Bringing her drink to her mouth, she took a considering sip.
"Do you judge everyone by the drinks they order? Or just the women?"
Lucas nodded his thanks to the bartender who set down his drink in front of him, and then turned his attention back to the interesting woman next to him. “No, not just women, men too,” he said with a slight quirk of his mouth. “There are ‘girlie’ drinks, ‘manly’ drinks, bad day drinks, celebration drinks, party drinks, dinner drinks...and there’s the ‘I just want to get drunk’ drinks, which I’d wager to say that one is,” he nodded to the glass in her hand. “Although, sometimes a Martini can be construed as a ‘I want to look classy’ drink,” he acknowledged. He sat in the stool two seats over from her - far enough away to allow personal space, but close enough to chat - and sipped his two-toned beer.
"Or people could just like a particular drink; not everything needs to be read into," she replied, tongue passing over her lips to collect any leftover gin as she carefully placed the martini back on the counter.
"A word of advice, which I'm sure you're not looking for nor will you take, but a woman drinking alone usually means she wants to be left alone." Of course, a little liquor was enough to lubricate even the cattiest, I-want-to-be-alone drinker, so Alex simply kept talking. She gave Lucas another once-over, this time looking at both his clothes and his hair critically. "You don't have much experience with women, do you?"
Lucas smiled and nodded to himself, taking another sip of beer. “You want to be alone, and yet you went out to a public place and sat at the bar, which is the most high-traffic area of the establishment,” he said. “If you’re looking for a solitary evening, you’re not doing a very good job.” He took the opportunity to look over at her, studying her face for a moment before letting his eyes move away from her. It wouldn’t do to stare, but he found looking at her fascinating; a mixture of professional curiosity and appreciation of the diversity of humanity. He had never met anyone with albinism, but he found it hard to look away from. However, he was well aware of how rude staring at anyone was in their society.
Her white-blonde brows rose, hand lifting the drink again like it was a sword.
"And you're a very rude shrink, if you think you can analyze a person that easily. Never heard of getting lost in a crowd?"
He canted his head in acknowledgement, but smiled all the same. “I have, but you need to be prepared that said crowd may encroach on your solitude,” he reasoned.
She sipped her martini again, the burning sensation dissolving through her lack of sobriety. The liquor mixed with her own well-versed attitude in handling people whose eyes wandered where they didn't need to easily observed the fact that he was intrigued by her appearance. It never failed to annoy. "Also, did your parents never teach you that it was rude to stare?"
While Lucas was somewhat taken aback by her sudden bristling, he forced himself not to react the same way. “I apologise; I did not realise I was staring,” he said, even though he’d done his best to consciously not stare. “I imagine you must have to deal with that a lot,” he said, sipping his beer again. “I guess it never gets any easier, as an introvert.” He glanced over at her again, but let his eyes easily slide to the display of liquor behind the bar, so he could just see her in his peripheral.
Alex paused, another sip sliding down her throat. Her drink was nearly empty, and she regarded this conversation in about as much of the same. "Talking about yourself? You're certainly very assumptious about others, aren't you. How close was I, careerwise? Ballpark it for me."
"Another?" Alex turned away, slightly surprised by the appearance of a bartender. She nodded, pushing her dregs-filled glass in his direction with a smile.
"Why not," she replied, loudly enough for her uninvited companion to hear. "I think I'll be needing it." The bartender, frowning slightly with a sidelong glance between the man and the woman at the bar, took the glass and removed himself to refresh it. Even before he was gone, Alex's distracted attention was back on Lucas.
"So?"
Lucas watched the woman next to him order another drink and look for all the world exasperated by his presence, and yet continuing their fledgling conversation. Another smile flitted across his lips at her insistence and he leant his elbows on the bar, his beer sitting between them. “I’m a doctor,” he said, “and my speciality is diagnosis of rare conditions.” Not exactly a ‘shrink’, but at least she was somewhere in the right ballpark. “What about you?” he asked, hoping it didn’t sound as if he was propositioning her, rather than the polite conversation it was trying to be.
"Not much of a bedside manner, then, hm?" Alex was already repositioning herself to better face the man seated next to her; the bartender reappeared, depositing her new martini. She did not smile in his direction, nor thank him for his service; instead, her hand closed possessively around the stem of the glass. All the same, the man moved off quickly, eager to fill more orders.
"Scientist. I'm a genetic therapy researcher. So, you're welcome for all the things that help you do your line of work." She lifted her glass, tipping it in his direction before taking a tentative sip.
“Thank you,” he nodded his head in recognition. “I’m fully aware at how useless I would be at my job if it weren’t for people like you doing yours,” he acknowledged. But then he paused and glanced at her outfit, one eyebrow rising. “So either you dressed up to go to a bar, or lab wear has seriously changed since I was an intern…”
"Interview," Alex replied, sipping her drink before putting it back down. "Looking for something new. You don't know about anywhere that's hiring, by any chance?" Her brows rose, the expression on her face telegraphing that she didn't believe he did.
“There could be, though I usually ignore those emails when the go around. You should look into the hospital HR, you never know if they’re looking for researchers,” he suggested. Then he quickly held up a hand and shook his head. “Ohh, wait...sorry, I don’t want to turn into one of those obnoxious know-it-all people that offer several not-so-helpful job hunting tips that are thirty years out of date. But it’s true what they say - it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.”
"It really is," she returned, fingers set delicately against the bottom of her glass perched on the counter before her. A bent arm against that same counter held up her chin as the liquor turned her from mean to morose. "There's a guy where I just moved to that I asked to have help me out; he said he did, but..." She shrugged.
"I'm not in a hurry for anything," Alex said. "Certainly plenty saved up from where I was before. So. Not like there isn't time. It's just...frustrating."
“Mr. Helpful wasn’t very helpful?” Lucas asked, shifting a little on his seat too in order to see her without craning his neck. “I’ve heard from friends that the job hunt these days is horrible, so I doubt it was your neighbour’s fault it didn’t pan out. It’s just...you can’t just walk into a place and hand them a resume anymore. Even places like Starbucks have all sorts of hoops to jump through before they’ll even look at your resume.” He sighed, as if frustrated himself over a problem he didn’t have. “It’s good that you have savings though; most people are age don’t.” He took another drink, draining the glass and nodded at the bartender to bring him another.
"Sounds like you might be speaking from experience? I've never worked as a barista." She teased, turning the martini glass about with small movements of her hand. "I can't say that I've ever just...'beaten the pavement,' I think is the phrasing? But there's certainly a ridiculous and increased amount of competition, which is unhelpful.
"I think my bigger problem, though," and here she took another sip, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, "is I'm looking for something interesting; not just another...job. So it makes things difficult."
Lucas nodded, “that is the dream, isn’t it? To have a job that’s not only fulfilling, but challenging and interesting. I seemed to have the luck to find all three in my current job,” he said, though trying not to sound as if he was bragging. “LA is full of those jobs though, I’m sure you’ll find something,” he added hopefully.
"Mhm," Alex replied, the sound less of an acknowledgement and more simply filler. She tipped the remainder of her martini into her mouth, and pulled a phone out of her pocket. A few taps, and a moment later she was rewarded with a countdown timer letting her know when her Uber would arrive. The phone went back into a pocket, which she rifled around in again until she pulled out a few crisp bills.
"Well, I can't say this hasn't been enlightening... I don't think I caught your name?"
Lucas knew the end of a conversation when he saw one. He sat back a little and nodded to her. “Lucas,” he replied, “and you are?” He doubted he’d ever see her again, but it would be nice to have a name besides ‘the interesting albino woman I met once at a bar’.
"Alex," she replied, offering him a wan smile as she carefully made her way down off the stool and onto her now more precarious high heels. She was pleased to note that she wobbled only once before finding sure footing.
"See you around, I suppose?" Alex shrugged, and didn't wait for a reply. Unhurried, confident steps took her toward the front of the establishment and, hopefully, her waiting ride.
Lucas smiled and watched her go, a memory from a few days ago cropping up at the name. Alex...didn’t Alice tell him that was her new neighbour’s name? But then, he supposed it was a common enough name, and there could be lots of women named Alex in the city. Still, the coincidence stuck in his brain, and he turned back to his beer, sipping it thoughtfully.