What's new, pussycat?
Who: Katya and Dante Where: The Stumble Inn When: Wednesday lunchtime What: Animal Magnetism and a job interview. Warnings: None.
Katya had rolled into town just in time for the engine of her car to splutter and die. Great. That was all she needed. She was already running low on cash - she had enough to cover a week at a cheap motel, and some food. Not enough to get a car running. Looked like she’d be job hunting sooner than expected. She’d gotten her car towed to a garage, hoping that they could fix it without costing her an arm and a leg. She’d gotten a whiff of wolf from the place - weres. Didn’t make them any less likely to rip her off, but at least she knew there was a pack around she’d need to avoid.
Grabbing a late breakfast at a surprisingly good diner, she’d picked up a copy of the local newspaper, scanning the jobs page. Bookstore, clothes store, telemarketing...ah. Bar work. The Stumble Inn wasn’t too far from the diner, and after getting directions from the waitress, she decided to walk it. She wasn’t exactly dressed for a job interview - jeans, a worn tshirt, and a light jacket - but it wasn’t like she’d be wearing a power suit. Looking round the empty parking lot, she cursed softly. Didn’t look like they were open. Shit. Deciding to try her luck anyway, she knocked on the door.
Dante was trying to pull a little double duty. The bar wasn't currently open and he was supposed to be working with the police department. He was doing the both by going over files for the case in between making sure everything was stocked up and ready to go for when they opened. At the moment he was working on one of the files when he heard the knock at the door. He was tempted to just let whoever it was walk away, but then again they might be after a job and with him not being able to work quite as much as he'd expected originally and with Ophelia having left, they were short staffed more so than he would have liked. Sighing, he closed the file and tucked it back into the box with the rest. Putting the lid on it, he pushed it aside on the table where he'd been sitting and headed for the door.
Pulling it open, he was greeted by a striking blonde. Not that he was trying to notice. But more than her features physically, he noticed her smell and knew it immediately. "What the hell is a snow leopard doing in D.C.?" he asked before he could really keep the words from slipping out. Sure he was a snow leopard, but he'd not seen another one in the town save for when Antoinette had come for a bit. "I mean um... hi? Can I help you?"
Katya looked up as the door opened. And up. And up. Dear lord, he was tall. And a snow leopard, holy fuck. When he blurted out his first question, Katya just blinked at him. Well, that was...direct. But a fair one. “I could ask you the same thing,” she murmured, arching an eyebrow. Lifting up that day’s newspaper, she gestured to the wanted ads. “I’m looking for a job. Saw you were hiring.” She didn’t wait to be invited in, just squeezing past him, not even having to duck under his arm. She sashayed over to the bar, hopping up onto one of the barstools, swivelling round to face him.
Well, apparently he didn't need to invite her in. He sighed and stepped back into the restaurant, closing the door behind him and latching it back. One prospective applicant at a time was enough. Heading towards the bar and then behind it, he leaned against the countertop and let his eyes move over her. "Alright, what can you do?" he asked. "We're short on cooks, waitresses, hostess and bartenders. Pick your poison."
“Anything except cook, pretty much,” she said, shrugging. “Which do you need most?” Hostess was the most boring job ever, so she was really hoping he didn’t go for that. Put her behind a bar, and she was happy. “Actually, screw that,” she said, waving a hand, not even letting him answer. She shrugged off her jacket, then hopped up on the bar, facing out into the room. She lifted her heels, spun round on her ass, and dropped down beside him, behind the bar. “Gimme a cocktail order,” she demanded, already grabbing a steel shaker and opening the ice compartment.
He was going to say the needed waitresses and bartenders most, but then she hopped over the counter, a bit more distractingly than she likely intended, and told him to give her a cocktail order. "Long Island Iced tea," he told her, stepping back so she could work. He had to give her credit for her no bullshit attitude. She knew what she wanted to do and went for it. He could respect that.
She grinned. Yeah, that she could pretty much do with her eyes closed. She kept it pretty simple, though she did throw in a little flair here and there; spinning the bottle of vodka in the palm of her hand, tossing the rum up behind her back with her right hand, catching it in her left. “I worked for a year in a bar in Baton Rouge,” she explained as she mixed the drink, glancing up at him. “Learnt a thing or two.” Grinning, she set the completed drink on the bar. And just for fun, nudged it with her fingers, sliding it along the bar towards him. “Try it.” It wasn’t a strict Long Island Iced Tea - she’d added a little twist. Her little secret ingredient. Hopefully, he’d approve.
Dante had watched each of her movements, watched as she spun the bottles and tossed them, added ingredients one by one. He had to admit that she had a flair for it. And a body that would bring in a hell of a lot of men, as if the group of cops coming just to support him weren't enough testosterone for a millenia. He caught the drink as it slid towards him and lifted it, taking a sip and smirking appreciatively as he sat it back down again. "Well I think that's about all I need to know. Save for filling out one of these," he said. Reaching under the bar, he found an application and handed it over to her. "For filing purposes, but I think you've just gotten yourself a job, miss...?"
“Dubrovski,” she grinned, taking the application form. “Ekaterina Dubrovski. Which pretty much explains what a snow leopard’s doing in the States,” she pointed out. Her grandfather had been a born were, and had come over to the States in search of his fortune. There had been Dubrovski weres in the States ever since. “You can call me Katya.” She offered him her hand. “And you are...?” She probably should have gotten a name before the interview. But fuck it, she’d gotten the job. That meant she didn’t have to worry about paying her bills for a little while, at least. She was curious as to how he’d gotten here, too. He didn’t look remotely Russian.
Russian. That made more sense. A lot more sense. "Katya," he repeated, the word almost sounding strange on his lips but he smiled all the same and took the offered hand. "Dante Romero," he replied. "You may not see me around much," he admitted as he let his hand fall away from hers. "I'm one of the owners of the bar, but I recently rejoined the police force so I spend a bit more of my time doing that. I'll have to introduce you to the rest of the group soon as I get the chance or have them introduce themselves whenever you start. Which reminds me, when would you like to start?"
Hunh. Not a Russian name, anyway. Not that that meant anything, of course. “Ok, sounds good. And uh...whenever you want?” She shrugged. “I just checked into a motel not far from here, haven’t found a place. I rolled into town this morning.” Which might make background checks a little difficult, but that was his problem, not hers. “So, since my name kind of gives it away...where you from?” She grinned, a little. “Snow leopards aren’t exactly indigenous to DC.”
"You can start tonight if you're eager to get on," he told her. They could use all the help that they could get, after all and if she had just rolled in she could likely use all the money she could get. "I'm from Verona, Italy," he told her. "Been living here for about ten years now," he explained. "I know, Italian snow leopard. Weird, I get it. Apparently sometime way back in my family tree some cursed one bit a relative and it passed down. Now we're mostly comprised of snow leopards. At least on my dad's side of the family." He shrugged a little. "So that's my story," he smiled. "What brings you to D.C.?"
“My car broke down,” she answered, stealing the drink she’d prepared, taking a sip before setting it down on the bar. “Seemed as good a place to stop as any, and I haven’t got the money to get it fixed right now anyway, so...” she shrugged one shoulder, lazily. “Italian, hunh? Figures.” She smirked, just a little. “You’ve got the whole...” She waggled a finger at him. “Tall dark and handsome thing going on.” Because yeah, she wasn’t blind. He was fucking gorgeous. But he was her boss. And besides that, she’d sworn off dating bartenders. And cops. She’d dated both before, and it never worked well. Dating a guy who was both? Nah. No way.
"I could probably take a look at it," he told her. "I'm not a mechanic, but I know a thing or two." It was a man thing. Cars were easier to understand than women most of the time. "Yeah, well, Russian figures for you too," he admitted. "You've got the whole curvy, petite, light skinned and gorgeous thing going on." He wasn't blind either. And considering she was the exactly opposite of Ophelia, he couldn't help but be paying a little more attention. But relationships were not something he needed. The last two had been epic failures and he wasn't going to get mixed up in all of that again.
She laughed. His honesty was refreshing - at least he wasn’t going to pretend that he hadn’t at least checked her out. She would have been kind of disappointed him if he had. “It’s fine,” she assured him. “I already took it to a garage. I’m hoping they won’t rip me off. RK motors, or something?” She did know the name, she had it written on a card. She just didn’t remember it off the top of her head. Filling out the application form quickly, she handed it back to him. “Is there a uniform? Or is it just ‘whatever makes the guys thirsty?’” Yes, Katya was not above using her not inconsiderable assets to get better tips.
"Nah, they're pretty good," he told her. He'd never heard any complaints about the boys that worked there. He took the application from her and shook his head a little. "Sort of," he said. "I'll get you a couple of shirts from the back but as far as bottoms go, you can wear whatever," he explained. "I can get your nametags printed up by the time you get her tonight," he assured her. "If you wanna come back to the office I'll grab the shirts for you so I don't waste any more of your time."
“Ok, cool.” That suited her. She had jeans she didn’t mind getting dirty or beer-soaked. “And hey, don’t worry about wasting my time. Like I said, I just got into town. I got nothing to do anyway, except grab some food later.” And hell, hanging around here staring at that ass? Really not a hardship. Even if she had no plan to tap it, she could still enjoy the view. Her leopard? Was enjoying the view. And the smell of him.
He smirked a little at her words, glad she wasn't in a rush to leave because he enjoyed the view too. Especially given that no matter how they sliced it, he was always looking down her shirt by accident or on purpose. Not his fault his genes made him tall. He led her back to the office and pulled out a chair for her while he shifted a couple of boxes off of one another so he could get to the women's shirts. She was small, but she had a rack on her so he picked out the size he thought would fit her and handed her a couple. "You can try one of them on and see if it's a good fit or not," he told her. There's a bathroom down the hall if you wanna do that while I print out a nametag for you."
She guessed it must be tough, being tall. Katya was used to being stared down at - and was even more used to guys talking to her cleavage. But the view Dante had? Yeah, it was a good one. She sat down, one leg tucked under her as she watched him haul boxes around like they weighed nothing. Ok, tshirts weren’t that heavy. Still. It was impressive. She took one of the shirts from him, dropping the other onto the chair. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured, resisting the urge to smirk at him as she left the room. She’d been tempted to strip right there, but considering she didn’t actually officially have the job yet, it was probably not the best idea.
She changed into the shirt - he’d judged it pretty well, though she felt like the neckline was choking her. She always did, in tshirts - she usually ended up cutting out the neck of them. Changing back, she headed back into his office, nodding. “Yeah, this works,” she murmured. “One question - is it ok if I cut out the neck a little? I hate high necklines.” They didn’t do her figure any favors.
Dante made a couple of nametags for her while she was gone and by the time she was returning, he was tucking them into the little plastic holders that would attach to the lanyards he was going to let her pick out. "Great," he told her when she said the shirt fit. As for cutting out the neckline, he had plenty to say to that. "Do you really think that I'm going to object to you showing more cleavage?" he questioned. "I don't mind."
Ok, that deserved a smirk. She arched an eyebrow at him, folding up both the tshirts and sitting down in the chair, her feet up on his desk. “Yeah, somehow I figured that was the answer,” she murmured. “So what time do you want me here tonight?” A schedule would be an idea. Not that she had anything else to occupy her time yet, but it’d be good to know when she’d likely be working.
"We're open eleven in the morning to midnight Sunday to Thursday and til two on Friday and Saturday," he told her. "So," he said, glancing at the availability on her application, he looked back at her. "Since you're pretty much open for whenever, it's up to you if you want the beginning, middle or end shift. I can squeeze you in with whatever you're more comfortable with though I think four to midnight would be your best bet for tips. And weekends six to two. We can work out which days you want off." He wanted to help the girl out and the more men she could serve drinks to, the more tips she'd make herself.
“Closing shift works for me,” she nodded. “I’m not a morning person.” She grinned. She could nap easier than sleeping solid eight hour stretches, at least. And yeah, he was right - the later the shift, the more people, the better the tips. “I’ll work whatever days you need me, honestly. Long as I get a night off, I don’t care when it is.” She’d likely spend it sleeping, in any case.
Dante smiled and handed her the name tag. Pulling a box off of one of the shelves, he opened it to reveal an assortment of lanyards. "You can grab yourself a couple. Got plenty of them. Probably ordered enough to cover me til Doomsday, honestly," he said, shaking his head at himself. "I'll get you a schedule decided by tonight. I'll leave it with Max Lasko. He's likely who you'll be working with for the most part so if you need anything you can go to him for it, or you can call me." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled his wallet out and handed her one of his cards. "You might not need it, but if you do, that's my number for future reference." Whether it be for work other otherwise, he wouldn't mind hearing her voice, that was for sure.
She smiled at him, grabbing a couple of lanyards. “You haven’t owned a bar before, have you?” She asked. If he had, he’d know that no matter how many lanyards he ordered, he’d still never have enough. Staff are good at losing shit like that. Nonetheless, she grabbed two, tucking them inside the tshirts with her name tag. His card, she slid into the pocket of her jeans. “And thanks. I’ll keep it just in case.” She smirked, just a little. Because yeah, harmless flirting with the boss? Totally fun.
"No," he admitted. "It all kind of happened pretty fast. I came into some money and made a snap decision to leave the police force and then I decided to start this place with my girlfri-... ex-girlfriend and her brothers. Then I decided I wanted to go back to the force. She got pissed at that and a lot of other shit and left. So now I have the awkwardness of working with her brothers, but they're more like family now and I have no clue what she's doing. And you... did not need to hear all of that bullshit," he sighed. "It's been a long couple of weeks, my apologies," Dante told her, brushing a hand through his hair. "But yeah, keep the number," he smiled. "Even if you just want to call to roll some 'r's' because that's kinda hot, no lie."
Katya arched an eyebrow at him, slumping down in her chair, crossing her legs at the ankle. They were still resting on the edge of his desk, and her gaze on him was thoughtful, assessing. “Don’t worry about it,” she murmured. “I’m a bartender, remember? Dealing with people’s personal shit is part of the job.” She smirked, just a little. And made a mental note to sound like her grandmother when she wanted Dante to do something for her. Which was only slightly weird. The stuff about his girlfriend, though? The fact that he had had to correct himself just proved how recent the breakup was. She really wasn’t going to go there. If she’d been tempted before, she wasn’t now.
"I think I'm just pissed because I haven't gotten to let it out yet. It's not like it was even what you'd call a relationship," he admitted. Which was likely more than she wanted to know. "More of a rebound. I think I have a tendency to have shitty relationships, honestly," he admitted. "I'm going to start catting around, its easier. Less bullshit." Though he knew that wasn't going to work. It wasn't in his nature. He couldn't force himself to cat around even if he wanted to. Feelings always got in the way no matter how much he tried to keep them from doing just that.
“So you’re pissed because you got dumped by your rebound chick?” She clarified, arching an eyebrow. “And now you’ve started a business with her brothers. Yeah...that...” she nodded. “Sounds a little complicated.” She stretched, arms up over her head, eyes dropping half-closed. And yes, she knew exactly how she looked. Distracting him from being pissed off was kind of the point. “Nothing wrong with catting around,” she suggested. “Even if it’s just to relieve a little tension.”
"No, I'm pissed because she's a fucking bitch," he told her honestly. "I could care less if she dumped me and ran out, honestly. But she ran out on her family too and family is like everything. You don't run out on family." And there was more to it than that even, he supposed, but he didn't need to let her in on all the messy details. He was too distracted to say more when she stretched that way and commented about catting around and relieving tension. Yeah, he could think of at least fifteen ways to relieve the tension and they all involved her and being bent over something or shoved up against something. Always naked. He blinked away the hazy feel of lust and shook his head. "That's not fair," he told her. "You can't say those words and look like that. No guy could resist, least of all me."
Katya just laughed, practically wriggling in her chair at the thick scent of lust in the air, coming off him. “Poor baby,” she teased. “You really are tense.” Sighing, she let her feet drop off the edge of the desk. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t fuck coworkers.” Even ones as delicious as Dante. Especially ones as delicious as Dante. That way, badness lay. “Even tall, dark, and handsome ones.” She stood, gathering up her tshirts and bag. “I’ll see you tonight, Dante,” she purred, turning on her heel and slinking out of his office.
"Technically I'm not a coworker," he pointed out. "I'm a cop. And a roaming boss," he smirked. "But yeah, regardless, I am tense, and disappointed. You probably won't see me tonight, but good luck with your first day." He watched her head out of the office and shook his head. Fuck he was going to need to make sure not to be at the bar otherwise he was going to end up wanting her more than he already did. Damn her for being sex on legs. Damn her.