Oliver was normally drinking at the bowling alley when not working… at the bowling alley. And he would be getting there. Eventually. He did have to do inventory at some point. It was just hard when there was no real time to stop serving. It was not fair to tell people who could not come out in the sun that they can’t party like it’s 1999, after all. It also meant there was no real time where someone was not sitting at the bar and drinking. Granted, sometimes it was one of the family doing just that, but Oliver could ignore that. Happily. As he was guilty. At the moment, the pixie was happy to flit his way into the pub and get some not fried food for once before heading back in. He had helped with the menu at the Bowling Alley, yes, but it was fastest to get something like the chips or chicken strips. After a while, that all tasted like ash to him.
The pixie slid up to the bar top and pulled off his gray zip-up in time to hear the blonde next to him order a set of drinks that instinctively caused a low, single toned whistle. He went hard some days. The ones where he was not working. But that was even much for him to start with. Still, not one to judge, he simply flashed her his bright smile that reached his eyes and tilted his head. Ollie could tell she was new. They all had the same look about them. Not really overwhelmed or out of hand. Just… new. It was like the smell of a new car. “Havin’ one of those days, are ya deary,” he asked with the rhythmic Cornish accent dancing his words around.
His eyes snapped forward to the bartender and he smiled brightly at her, as well. “I’ll take a Bahama Mama.”