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[Setting] The Red Oak Pub
| >The amount of wooden furniture here is surprising, for a place like GC: the interior of the place is a perfect reproduction in synthetic wood of what a pub would have looked like seventy years ago, the only difference being the Calicomp bartending system behind the counter, and a weird, creepy, half-zombie and half-clown head hung on the wall. Everything else is the same, from the walls decorated by old sport-teams scarves to the surpringly high number of beer taps.
| >But tonight, unsurprisingly, the only people in the are the owner, a rough and tough scotsman standing behind the counter, and the barmaid, a redheaded lilim known as Bonnie that's fidgeting with a shot glass behind her trusty bartending system.
>The only sounds to be heard are the crackling of the wood in the fireplace, and the few words seldomly spoken by the two.
"Slow necht, eh, Bonnie?"
"Yeah boss, such a shame..."
| > Stepping in, a tall, blonde woman whose height can be eyed upon around 6'. Wearing a half-unmaintained formal suit, she goes inside dusting off her trousers. The unaligned tie, and face dirtied by more than blood and dirt. A single hair pin latches at the right side of her bangs, showing none of her long hair behind.
"Excuse me, can I get to the washroom?"
> She asks. Her voice resounds a crackly, tired note. The aqua blue orbs eye the owner and the lone staff.
| >>654729
>The owner gives the woman a long, mistrustful look.
"Aye, nae funny business though, alrecht?"
>His voice is gravely, and not very friendly. As he says so, Bonnie raises her head.
"Don't mind him, girl, he's just a grumpy old fuck. You can use it, no problem~"
>She points to a door in a corner of the main room, snapping her fingers
"Right over there!"
"Ye knaw I could fire yer arse recht noo, do ye?"
>He whispers
"Nah, I don't think so, gramps"
>She says back, smirking
| >>654742
"Thank you. Please prepare.."
> As she struts toward the bathroom, her eyes wander to the decor of the room. Exquisite, in no way something a BTC bar would do. She halts her march, a dinky thought made its way out.
"... Anything that may taste similar to a Zen Star—"
> Hoping the drink will be enough descriptor, she finally resumes and reaches the washroom -- the sound of it opening and closing is heard shortly after.
| >>654744
>Bonnie clicks her tongue, and smiles.
"On it, girl!"
>She gets to work, and starts mixing. As you get back in the main room, there's a highball glass waiting for you on the counter, with a clear blue liquid in it.
"So, Zen Star with a twist!"
>She snaps her fingers again
"You look like a tough girl, so I made it a bit more sour than the standard one. Also, real tequila in here, no adelhyde nor kamotrine. But don't worry, if you don't like it I can make you the real one"
| >>654751
"Mmh. 'Tough girl'? Do I give the vibe?"
> The empty stools make its invitation towards her. She sat upon what's closest to the barmaid, or rather, her glass — the drink inside invokes a certain amazement from her, having a few seconds taken by its appearance alone.
"This looks... Better than karmotrine ones."
> Her face, having been washed, is now marred only by minor scratches. Her attire has been straightened, back to a state of proper polish.
| >>654795
>As you drink the cocktail, you notice that it is indeed better. The sweetness of tequila meets the sour taste of the powdered delta surprisingly well, and the overall flavour is way less "confused" than the original.
"Oh, you know, the suit, all the... stuff on your face, you making Boss suspicious... Hey! Now that I think of it, you give the same vibe as Boss!"
>She jokes
"Aye aye, Bonnie, sure. So, ye look loch ye had a rough necht, eh?"
>He asks, turning towards you.
| >>654847
> A fine taste. What's drawn on her face is the satisfaction upon finding a drink notches better than the bland Star. She stores the glass, intending to use it later, her hand still held much the grip it needs to lift it ceremoniously.
"This is nice.."
> Her shoulder relaxes. She met eyes with the Scotsman; a question she answered by a nod.
"... I just finished a job. I need to cool down before going anywhere."
| >>654854
>As you compliment the drink, Bonnie's eyes brighten with satisfaction.
"See, Boss? That's why you'll never fire me!"
"Aye, fair point Bonnie, fair point... Anyway, lass, how shuid I call ye? An, maist importantly, ye'd loch anythin tae eat?"
>He says, as he makes a menu slide on counter, right in front of you.
>It's a list of typical pub dishes: steaks, burgers, fish and chips, a few fried things and a really weird selection of salads
| >>654925
> She glances at the menu, scanning the contents and landing upon a plate that rose her interest.
"This. Fish and chips seems great for today."
> Redundantly, she points to the item itself, tapping at it twice -- or perhaps, making a gesture of notice.
"Hm. You asked for a name before, right? Well.. it's-- Rin."
| >>654971
"Oan fish an chips fur Rin, then. Comin' recht up, jist gies a second tae start up th' kitchen"
>He says, heading towards a room in the back. After a minute or so, you hear a thud, a few unintelligible curses, and finally the sound of a frier starting up.
"You know, you'd never guess it from his appearance, but he's a pretty good cook. Mind, nothing fancy, but he puts his heart into it"
>The barmaid looks at you
"By the way, Rin, the name's Bonnie. A pleasure to meet ya"
| >>655029
"It's a pleasure. How long have you worked here, Bonnie?"
> Rin gets the glass to her lips again. The small intake done was made even smaller with her slow, paced sip. By the end, the content hadn't decreased much, or by any significant amount.
"... And your boss too, he looks experienced."
| >>655130
"Gotta say, I've been here only for a few months, to be honest I'm fairly new to all this. Before he took me in I was basically a stray, being unregistered and all. And, what to say about him? Used to work with the police in Scotland, backed the riots for independence, got a bounty on his head for it, escaped to America, learned a few cooking tricks along the way and here he is in GC. He's hard boiled, lemme tell ya."
>She gives you a half smile.
"And what about you, Rin?"
| >>655353
"I'm an accountant."
> The sly smile Rin made was only visible by the edges of her lips. Surely, a fact to be treated as lie.
"I used to work for a company, then someone else hired me here. It's not a journey as long as you or your boss."
> She stirs the drink, shaking its container frivolously, before then taking another try. Each time she brought the glass down, a new joyed expression of hers is revealed.
| >>655428
"Ah, yes, accounting. They tell me it's a fierce job, isn't it? Obeying you big, scary higher ups, lots of competition between the companies, business secrets to keep, and sometimes you... Gotta get your hands dirty, right? Or your face... But you don't seem the kinda gal that gets discouraged by hardships. I like your kind, you know?"
>Her tone lets you understand that she has read through you lie, but that she doesn't want to call you out for it.
| >>655601
>As she speaks, the sounds of the frier in the kitchen begin to get louder, as if someone is finally putting something inside it. A faint smell of freshly fried chips starts making it's way in the main room, and soon enough gets to your stomach
| >>655601
> Rin gives the facade a smile. Setting the drink down, she sets sight upon the kitchen; the illustrious smell of the dish is what first takes her gluttonous hunger away — and only to bring it to a risen stage after she soon realises its audience hasn't yet fully entered her view.
> She takes a gulp again. Small, but she did so twice.
"I have my reasons. First of, you never know if the monthly report I finished is still a live data or not."
| >>655621
"Well, seems like your dinner's getting ready~"
>She says sniffing the air, as the sounds get stronger
"Then again, Rin, can I ask you something? When I say that I'm an unregistered lilim people are weirded out by it. But you, you didn't even flinch. No reaction at all. Just out of curiosity, why?"
>She lowers her tone, as her expression changes to a more serious one. She even puts down the glass she was cleaning.
"You don't have to answer, if you don't want to."
| >>655871
"..."
> The enroaching smile Rin had begun to shrink. Turning from an arch to a small, flat and serious; it's a smile regardless, simply not what's to be expected from that word.
"Why should I? After all, it's not like I'm any different."
> Tethering to those words were the bittersweet tune of her voice. Despite its hoarseness, and the shrill — of the tiredness and exhaustion — she spoke the sentence without a hitch.
| >>655878
"Huh... I don't think I understand wha..."
>As she's finishing the phrase, she's interrupted by the owner, who comes back from the kitchen with your plate.
"'Ave a good meal, lass"
>He grunts, as he unceremoniously leaves a large, oval dish in front of you.
>There's only one word to describe what you see: glorious. First of all, there's a real fried cod fillet in your plate, and not those damn fish sticks that most places in town pass as fried cod.
| >>656367
>Secondly, the whole thing is massive: the fillet takes up on its own two thirds of the dish, which is already overflowing with a thick layer of golden potato chips: by looking at it, you realize that the plate is nearly as long as your entire forearm.
>It seems delicious, really, but a worried thought crosses your mind: is it really possible to eat all this stuff?
| > Rin's eyes caught the sight of the dish; she takes the scent, a smell fragrant like no other — the cod, for sure; another of these, and her mouth began to salivate. Her stomach grumbles.
"Thank you for the meal-"
> She searches for a nearby cutlery. She wasn't willing to waste another second to time, nor submit anymore to the weakness of her hunger. Once found, her swift hands travelled back to the dish.
> And she took her first bite.
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| >As chaos rages on in Glitz, only a few activities dare to stay open: the Red Oak is one of those.
>Situated in a small, alley not far from the main streets, it is a surprisingly cozy and nice place: thanks to the local fame of the owner as a man who, to put it mildly, shouldn't be fucked with, the alley and the pub have managed to avoid the unsavory frequentation of the backstreets.
>You open the wooden door, and the warmth and the sound of a crackling fireplace welcome you inside