She was Armenian!
Who: Keiran (Deimos) and Jackson (Phobos) What: Jackson's looking for a job Where: Psirri When: 2pm after the bar opens Rating: PG13? There might be some cussing Status: Complete
Jackson set his bags down in the cramped hot hotel room that would be his home for a little while until he could get a job and an apartment. The comforter was threadbare, the plaster on the ceiling and walls cracked and he'd probably be wise never to walk around the room barefoot, but it was the best he could afford and with luck, he wouldn't be here for long.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he dug around for the mysterious journal that had appeared in his duffel bag a few hours ago. He'd been leery of writing in it just yet, wondering exactly what the letter had hinted at. It looked like a regular old journal to him, but even still it was best to hedge his bets.
Frowning, he buried the journal in his bag again and stowed his gear away. He'd unpack later but for now he was curious to see Athens and needed to find a job ASAP. Of course, that made it difficult in a land where English was not its native tongue. Still, Jackson had done ok in other non-English speaking countries and if he was lucky maybe he'd find someone who spoke French or Spanish.
Locking his hotel room carefully behind him, he made his way leisurely down the narrow street of Exarcheia, his hands in his pockets, his senses alert for pick pockets and his eyes trained on the architecture and people. The neighborhood was a mixture of students and low-lifes. It would've been called 'gentrified' in New York.
His wanderings took him out of the neighborhood and through a couple of others, his eyes always on the look out for a decent looking bar. He didn't find one until he came to Psirri. It didn't look particularly special and it didn't stand out in anyway, but there was a sign on the window that said in Greek and English, Help Needed. Good enough for him. It didn't matter what sort of help the owners needed, he could wash dishes just as well as throw a body in the streets.
Stepping into the bar, he paused a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting inside and walked over to the bar and the bartender standing behind the counter. There was something oddly familiar about the kid. Very familiar. But Jackson couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd seen him before and what was odd was that he was nearly one hundred percent certain that he never had seen him before. "Uh.... Do you... speak English?"