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'Two Men Walk Into A Bar' Meme

Sometimes, everyone just needs a stiff drink ~~or some shawarma~~. Your character finds himself or herself walking into a bar to get that drink. But what's that? Who's sitting at the bar with you? It might be your best friend...or your worst enemy.

Rules:

Post with your character! You character is now in a bar ~~or shwarama restaurant~~.

Respond to other characters. But here's the rub: whether it's magic or something in the air, even if you find yourself at the bar with your worst enemy no one can fight in this bar. Curious what your characters would learn about each other if they weren't always trying to kill each other? Now's the time.

You might want to be careful. Some of the liquor seems to have a mild truth serum, so your characters might find themselves 'opening up' a bit more than they usually would!

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[ Pretty, young, yes that must be the appeal. Jim's already picked the girl apart twelve times in her mind. Jim decides, in a huff of annoyance to pick her apart out loud for Sebastian's benefit. ]

She's married, hiding her ring so dullards will empty their pockets for her. Tatto on her wrist covered with makeup, a man's name, or male rather. But why get a man's name tattooed visibly on you when you already wear his ring? [ He pauses a moment to let that sink in. He lowers his voice to just above a whisper. ] Because it's her son's name.

[ Showing off and sullying whatever grotesque ideas Sebastian had in minds for that girl complete, Jim takes a victory sip of his scotch. ]

[ Sebastian stares sidelong across the table at Jim, his expression caught somewhere between appalled, annoyed flirting with disgusted, and intrigued. He's not surprised by this anymore, nor does he think for a second that his boss is not entirely spot on. ] You're a right fucking bastard, you know that?

[ He huffs, shaking his head a bit as he takes another drink. Someone's a touch put out, even if she's still 100% a MILF and he'd still hit it. A huff of bemused exasperation prefaces the echo of his sentiment again. ] Right fucking prick. Spiteful.

Edited 2012-06-03 01:42 (UTC)

It's a gift.

[ Jim responds with a smug look and a shrug, swirling the glass in his hand. He's unfazed by the insults; these obscenities Sebastian has a tendency to hurl at him simply fan the flames and make him that much worse. He wonders if Moran doesn't realize this or if he just enjoys it as much as he does, letting all that rage and frustration come out behind closed doors when the game is much less tipped in the favor of his employer. Jim will suffer the consequences of it later, though he's never one to pass up a good bit of suffer.

A hand waves the waitress back over. Jim gives her his undivided attention; sly and charming in the way he usually speaks to women worth his time. ]

My friend here will have another round, miss. If you would be so kind.

[ Soft smile, gently offered words; it's a far cry from how he normally would treat her, Sebastian must know this. ]

That what you're calling it?

[ It might not be something Moran would admit freely, but he did enjoy the way they fed each other like gasoline fires, erring just inside of actually pissing each other off (usually) until they were behind closed doors and all pretenses dropped. When all that spring-loaded violence and force built up from a day of servitude could snap and he actually stood a chance of getting somewhere with it.

Blue eyes shift between Jim and the waitress when his boss fits her with that so very self-serving, fabricated charm and appeal. The bitch doesn't deserve his attention, doesn't even deserve Sebastian's, which certainly meant she wasn't even worth even being addressed by Jim-fucking-Moriarty. Sodding arrogant fucker, trying to make a point is he? He swallows down the last of that J.D. and coke before setting it on the table. ]

I don't need another. I'm still on the clock, aren't I?

[ The smarmy comment from Sebastian goes ignored for now (which could, quite possibly, do much more damage than a quip) to focus his attention on the allegedly "pretty young thing" serving them. Moran may see all of his day-to-day as indentured and voluntary servitude (because it is, in many ways) but Jim makes it so worth his wild and is such an excellent person to be connected to. In his mind, the sick and twisted depths of it, this is a gift bestowed on only the worthy. Sebastian has proven himself very worthy and continues to with each encounter that he doesn't invoke death threats during.

He can feel the other man's gaze burning him, but all eyes are turned to the young lady. He offers her a mock-sympathetic look at the refusal. ]

My apologies, it seems we're erring on the side of professionalism.

[ She sends an awkward glance between them before slinking away in silence, leaving Jim to toss Sebastian a mischievous look. He can figure out a bit of what's going through the sniper's mind, plotted those thoughts to be the results even, Sebastian the man really blame him for looking a bit self satisfied for a moment or two? He sips at what little is left of his scotch, pointedly keeping his unblinking eyes on Morans. ]

Rather rude of you, don't you think?

Edited 2012-06-05 03:53 (UTC)

[ Run his mouth as he may, that doesn't mean he isn't aware of just how insultingly inappropriate it was to suggest that level of intelligence goes unappreciated. In all honesty, it never ceased to amaze him even if it was oft put to use in ways that annoyed the fuck out of him. As for the job, well, it was hardly a matter of contacts and income. He could get that from just about anyone in the business; it was still very much Moriarty that made this job exactly what he needed.

His eyes stay on Jim for far too long now, dark and predatory fierce as he sweet talks what had just, moments ago, been HIS personal mark. When she leave he snaps his gaze from Jim and allows himself a detached and absent gaze after her before glance back at his boss again. He'd like that drink now, or at least a couple cigarettes. ]

You know why. [ Wait, that's not what he wanted out of his mouth. Come on, Sebastian, you have better control of your tongue than that. He shakes it off, that moody little slip because he knows he's not even buzzed yet. Just annoyed, that's it. ]

Call me rude when I'm not sober enough to keep someone from putting a bit of lead between your eyes.

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