ιѕαвєℓα (rivaini) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-11-20 19:08:00 |
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There was a bit of a bounce into his step, the very worn old style Nike high tops (vintage of course because he lives in the era of his old town) trucked along the Anaheim sidewalk until he stopped to check the elaborate display that was The Hanged Man. Talk about vintage. Peter’s interest was only further intrigued, even if there was a small bit of fear on the back of his spine that maybe there’d be an undertaker in here of a sort, but hey, the alternative bar scene was still really cool, if not to his personal taste, Quill liked different, and a job was a job. Especially one that wasn’t about to turn him away for such a bad record. Earning a living the right way was hard enough--trying to do it after you made one, two or five bad mistakes made it even tougher, Pete liked to think he saw a good opportunity when it plopped into his lap. “Helllooouu? Anyone home? I’m here to see Isabela? It’s Peter!” It was still ‘early’ for a bar but obviously people would be there at this time to set up shop, prepare for the night and such. Peter mosied around the bar top, glancing around at all the cool..weapons? And knick knacks that were along the wall. Huge candles seemed like a fire hazard, but what wasn’t these days? No undertaker, but there was definitely an actual hanged man dummy in the doorway, letting customers know exactly how the place had gotten its name - Isabela hoped that the latest interviewee wasn’t perturbed, since she’d sort of forgotten to inform him of that. Oops. But the ambiance certainly screamed ‘medieval’ - dripping candles in chandeliers, stone walls, even the blankets upstairs in the one or two rooms for lodging they had available were woven on ancient looms. They brewed their own honey mead, ale, and sipping whiskey here - there was also the scent of spices, some familiar like dill and saffron meant for delicacies (meat pies, poutine, fried potatoes) and others that were...not quite of this world. Trevelyan was good about selling Thedosian herbs grown at Skyhold to use for plenty of pub dishes. Bela had just been firing a few things up in the kitchens when she heard the voice. It was early for drinking, mostly, but a good time for an interview - not that this would be formal, not by any means. New fish on the network were always fun - she wondered what this one would dream about. They always ended up dreaming. “Hey love, lucky I happen to be Isabela!” she grinned - and she looked not-so-formal herself, in black jeans that fit like a second skin, leather boots that could kill someone, a beaded tank top with thin straps wherein her cups easily ran over. She usually went for a combo of comfort, style, and cleavage-baring in the name of good tips. “Welcome to the Hanged Man, have a seat at the bar. Want a drink or anything to nosh on while I grill you?” The dummy at the entrance may have given Peter a reason to think that they were a little late in taking down some of the Halloween decorations, but after further taking in the interior figured it was just part of the package--he got it! The clientele who came around here must have been some interesting types, and that only intrigued Peter further. He was used to being with the less than savory folk, he didn't judge, much. Had no right to. Woah his possible new boss looked such the part, hot and spicy but Quill made sure to keep his blue eyes on hers, thankful that his own jeans and Bowie t-shirt wasn't under dressed. He took as seat as she commanded, making himself comfortable at the mouth of the bar and folding his arms over the edge. “Eh, I'm alright thanks. I already ate way too much breakfast so I'd be full and ready for grilling. Thank you though!” “No problem,” though Isabela, of course, poured herself a bit of whiskey - because, well, she could. She owned this place partly so that meant an excessive amount of day drinking. Then she took her usual spot on the stool behind the bar - the place she sat on when she was listening to terrible news about how Hawke had been left behind in the Fade once, or other patrons problems. That was the thing about being a bartender - you definitely had to be a people person. This Peter fellow was utterly adorable though, so she guessed he fit the bill. Had some muscle mass too, so get him in a tight shirt and he’d be racking up some tips. In fact, she was giving him a once-over right now. “Pretty good view, you sweet thing, you - don’t worry, I checked out your bum before you sat down, it’s top-notch.” He hadn’t been lying. How pleased this made her! She sipped her booze, humming a jaunty tune. “And you’re alright with listening to drunk people’s problems, calling Uber for them so they don’t kill anyone on the way home, and also occasionally hefting heavy things to and fro in front of customers while wearing a shirt which showcases the flex of muscle? I make my husband do the same thing, so you know, it’s really all in the name of money.” The thing about day drinking was, it got Peter into trouble, amongst other things, and he was sort of kind of trying to avoid that for now. He couldn't help the giddy chuckle when she remarked about his rear, shooting her a smug wink. “Oh sure, could shoot the shit with people all day--especially drunk ones, those are the most entertaining. The thing is, if I wouldn't be on that end of the bar I'd probably be on this one anyways. I like making my own adventures or hearing about them.” Obviously Pete was a large enough guy to handle his own, and with his background, he kind of knew what to do if shit went south. But he was a natural people person. You either loved him or you hated him, and he was fine with that. “You mean I have to show off my guns? As long as I don't get arrested.” Even he couldn't stop himself from the awful corny joke or laughing at it either. “I'm cool with all of that.” “Good, glad to hear it! We do need an adventurous sort around here,” Bela shared, like it was some shocker - but oh, just wait, living in Orange County was quite an adventure all unto its own. “What’s your background like? The dirty laundry isn’t you essentially being a serial killer, is it?” She didn’t think so, but just checking. Obviously some offences were easier to overlook than others. Because she didn’t have a squeaky clean past either - and she’d be upfront about her black market days. Hey, it paid and it paid damn well. What else could be expected? ‘Twas a pirate’s life for her - mostly, until she decided to do the better thing. “Yeah, that,” Pete scratched at the hair at the back of his neck, giving a sheepish shrug. “I'll be honest with you, I've gotten arrested for a few different things and more recently got out following a less than successful heist. But it was just stealing and flipping crap.” There was the whole gang thing but it wasn't like he was with the Bloods or the Krips. A lot of bad shit came along with the lifestyle but Quill didn't care for senseless violence or killing. “I've had my bad scraps but I don't like hurting people. More of the um, what do they call it? Problem with authority sort of thing, but that's why I'm here. To get away from all that crap.” Stealing and flipping? Sounded like right up Isabela’s alley! Her eyes actually glimmered, the gold in them taking on an almost proud and pleased sort of glint. It was like she’d found a kindred spirit, because what pirate didn’t have a problem with authority? Well, they listened to their Captains, but most became scourers of the sea to escape the shackles of a life they didn’t necessarily choose for themselves - and that was Bela’s story. “No worries, love, I’ve had my own scuffles with the law,” she winked, as if they were shooting the shit about the weather. Or biscuit recipes. “My dream - “ Oh, shite, she shouldn’t really go on about that this soon. Pete here would just think she was mad, most likely. “I mean, anyway! I understand, is all. Wanting a fresh start is a noble thing, I can respect that, Hawke can too - that’s my husband, he also owns the place. You’ll meet him later, I’m sure.” Bela, on her end, did like hurting people - but only the ones who deserved it! Otherwise she was harmless as a kitten, really. “Have you ever bartended before, by the way? Or is this your first go at it?” Most people didn’t take kindly to any sort of criminal record, especially thievery--and Peter didn’t blame them, it meant he was probably dishonest. In a lot of ways he could be, pending on the person or what he’d needed to do to survive. But in an odd way he felt comfortable telling Isabela, she’d already said a background wasn’t a problem, and this seemed like the place for the more alternative sort of person anyways. His brows quirked at the mention of a dream, because what did that have to do with anything? Apparently nothing special, as she shimmied right into the next topic. “Well that’s a relief, it definitely seems like I’m in good company then.” A more difficult thing to come by in his small hometown where everyone knew everyone. But California was big, it was different, and there were possibilities and opportunities. He was apparently getting really lucky. With a slight grimace, Pete’s shoulders lifted in a balancing act motion with his hands. “Not really? But I’ve done a bunch of odd jobs before, I know my alcohol, and I’m a quick learner--not to toot my own horn or anything.” “Knowing your alcohol is really all it’s about,” Isabela chuckled, and oh, he seemed like the sweet sort. She was a good reader of people - could tell who was a piece of shit and who wasn’t, generally. It just made her wonder how Pete fell in with the ‘bad’ crowd, and got himself thrown behind bars, but perhaps that story would come eventually. “Since we’re sharing and all, I didn’t do much bartending before moving to Orange County either - I dealt mainly in black market dealing. I suppose I still do a little?” Bela had her preferred customers - people she would do favours for, by tracking down important goods. Mostly books. Sometimes other things. “Anyway, you’ll have to learn our specific menu but like you said, you’re a quick learner. Here’s a cheat sheet of our speciality cocktails,” she slid a paper with all the names written down on toward him. “We also just started doing pub grub. Spiced potatoes, poutine, Shepard’s pie, things like that. There’s a fellow who cooks all that but I like for everyone to know the recipes just in case, yeah?” “A little?,” the smirk grew on his face with interest. Much as Peter knew he ought to stay out of trouble he'd never be able to get rid of the adrenaline rush that came with an illegal adventure. “Well hey, we’ve got a similar history then. Unless you're dealing in organs...are any of the drinks made with not so legal mixtures? Like absinthe and stuff?” Now that would be fun but likely not an easy feat to keep from regular inspectors. Still, a giddy prospect. Pete took the paper and gave it a once over that had his face crinkling with a soft laughter. “These names are amazing, and will make things easier to remember.” The more ridiculous, the better. He wasn't the most book savvy but Quill was good at thinking quickly in operations. Especially the sort that had before involved stealing cars and hot wiring, mechanics and all. These were just more combinations. “Oh my god spiced potatoes! I'm not awful in the kitchen but I love food so I don't see a problem with any of this. Important question though: am I allowed to eat some of this?” Organs! That was bloody adorable, and laughable. Isabela let out what could be considered a cackle. “No, no - my ex dealt with gold on the black market, mostly. It’s pretty popular in Asia. Me though? When I moved to London from India after his untimely demise - “ But wait, don’t worry, Bela didn’t kill her last husband. Even if she had, the fellow sure deserved it. Bastard. “I just used his tips and tricks and started my own black market book trade. People go a bit mad if they’re a collector, and there’s a rare edition they want or something.” Not that she meant to go off on a tangent about that, however. But it was nice to shoot the shit with someone who had a similar background, she’d admit. At least she knew that he wouldn’t judge her (not that she cared if anyone did judge her - she wasn’t the type). “As for being allowed to eat any of this, of course,” she waved a hand. “Employee discount is certainly given. Actually, you’re the first employee besides the fellow doing the pub grub. Mostly, the Hanged Man’s been kind of a family-run thing. Me and Hawke, plus his sister and brother all pitch in. So you might see them around. Any other questions for me? Because as far as I’m concerned, you’ve got the job, love.” She flashed him a toothy smile. “Awesome,” You could count Pete in if it meant he could drink and eat on the job and get a discount. This sounded like it would hardly be work for him--learning the drinks maybe, and the different sorts of people who came in may have needed a special sort of handling, but Quill could take it. He adapted, quickly, and was usually pretty good in tight situations unless he was being brutally fucked over. But it didn’t seem as though Isabela was. There was a lot of trust issues Peter had after his Grandfather hardly took the time to try to work through both thier grief, he’d always been a stern man, and after his previous ‘family’ gang had shown him that no matter what, it was every man for himself he’d grown very iffy in the trust department. This was his kind of job. Despite all else, he didn’t really need the trust--they trusted him, and he could return the mutuality. And do a damned good job because this, was going to be the start of a new adventure. “Uh, no actually. I’m sure I may bug you about policies and such when they inevitably come up with customer concerns or complaining, but I’m going to read this drink list like the bible, and we’re going to have a great time. I’m ready.” Peter was beaming right back at Isabela, happier than he’d been in quite some time, and even raised his hand to give her a high five. Oh, right, a high five - not something Isabela was familiar with (who did these, really?) but it made her laugh anyway. She smacked her fist against Pete’s raised hand, which was probably sort of a bro-fist and high five combo. “We’re all about great times here, and flexing muscles,” she quipped. But the Hanged Man was also important to her and Hawke in the sense that it was essentially a piece of the past brought into the present - a relic from shitty Kirkwall, when most of the city really wasn’t much to write home about. “Alright, come on. Let’s head back into the kitchens, and I’ll show you a bit of that pub grub I was talking about.” He would get to sample what the tavern had to offer, and it was a good way to ease in - questionable flipping aside, he seemed like a decent bloke and would fit in nicely with the Hanged Man family. Of course, that mostly meant he could hold his liquor but you couldn’t knock what was important. |