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Post by Jeanette "Leech" Grey on Feb 28, 2014 15:11:21 GMT -5
The dopey little café across Nada Citadel, while no longer a choice destination for the elite, was becoming sorely missed. This place lacked true artistry; the pounding of electronic music, in place of humming violins, sounded like a distressed heart left in the oven. The music pounded beneath her feet, vibrated her teeth, and made her disoriented. The lights in her eyes reminded her of the time her past husband had become interested in drugs.
Her feet hurt. The little heels, which pinched her feet after seven hours, no longer seemed worth it. The added length of her legs would not help if she dropped drinks in an eligible man’s lap. Her back ached. Standing straight all day, on a hard surface, unlike the plush carpet at her other place of work, was painful. It did not stop her from smiling, bowing, and dancing nimbly through the clouds. Half of Jeanette wanted to throw her uniform into the garbage, drown one of these perverted drunkards in fruity cocktails, and strut outside. It was just another hour.
The smile remained frozen in place. It was an expression of sunlight. It made her eyes sparked. For the most part, unless she was at home or engaged in certain activities, it was a complete and utter lie. Finally, it seemed, the lights had gotten to her.
Her head pounded with the beginnings of a migraine. “Hnngh.” Pausing briefly at the counter, mixing new drinks, Jeanette let the act falter for a moment. It felt as if some sort of pixie tap-danced on her forehead—if pixies had knives and hammers for feet. The pain throbbed directly behind her eyes and refused to leave. Her orange eyes, all night, had flared brighter. Little bits of times were siphoned from youthful dancer after youthful dancer. Her power was stretched too far.
Back ache. Feet sore. Head ache. Being surrounded by idiotic dancers.
These seemed to be the least of her worries on this day.
She wished she still hunted foxes. This Rau was truly beginning to grate on her nerves. The thing was loud, boisterous and annoying. She was rather certain, via the stick in his tail, that the rodent had decided to trip her twice. It was humiliating! Whie her smile had not faltered, and she waved the pain in her knees away, Jeanette was secretly fuming inside. A little parasite of hate and dislike was growing. “What was it sir? A cocktail for your girlfriend and Coke and rum for yourself? My human ears couldn’t quite hear you above the bass.” A flutter of darkened lashes. A kick under the table that vibrated its top. The smile widened.
She looked up briefly as she scribbled notes onto the pad. She had heard that damnable fox again. Was he going to her table? That young man was a socialite, with plenty of extra money, and quite interested. There was a reason she had left their bill upon the counter. The man had been scribbling his number wanted to speak with her. No dirty vixen wannabe, as she called Rau, would usher him away before Jeanette was good and ready.
Looking through her dirty blonde hair, which smelled vaguely of cucumbers and melons, Jeanette smiled and gave the tiniest of waves. As they passed one another, walking through tightened aisles, a chair accidentally threw itself out in front of Rau. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I didn’t see you there!” Jeanette just gave a smile.
Was it petty? Yes. Did it feel wonderful to trip that silly little thing or embarrass him for once? Of course.
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Rau
POKEMON
Posts: 35
OOC Name:: Keiran
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Post by Rau on Feb 28, 2014 15:38:39 GMT -5
For all the loud, crowded, and sometimes downright riotous persons that occupied the little dance club, Rau actually rather adored his job. It wasn't his dream, no, but it paid the bills (metaphorically speaking) and gave him a dip into the world around them. People had at first seemed a little surprised that a Braxien was working as a bartender and waiter, but months had passed since then. Regulars were used to him and sometimes took a little delight in having him light their cigarettes as they left for the cool air outside, and newcomers were always a little star-struck to see the fox slip his way nimbly across the floor with a tray of drinks balanced on his paw. He had gotten in-tune with the rhythm of the Ludicolo Boogie, and he adored it more and more each night.
That being said, loving a job and loving your co-workers are not always the same thing. Most of the other staff members he didn't have an issue with. Some were a little too busy talking with customers, some were a little too dazed by the sound, but on most days everybody was on the same level of competence. Then, hardly over a week ago, a new woman was hired.
Rau wasn't often one to judge on appearances, but with her well-kept hair, long legs, tight skirt, and high-heels, she had the look completely and absolutely wrong for this job.
There was a reason only hostesses at restaurants wore heels. Why is that, you ask? Because they weren't always on their feet like the waitresses. Waitresses wore flats for the sake of their feet over the sake of appearances, keeping up with the uniform--unless they were Rau, in which case all he had to wear was a little apron--but never going for form over function. Jeanette had it all wrong. But, unlike some who learn quickly, it seemed that this little lady didn't. Her personality didn't help much either.
"Maybe you shouldn't stand under the speakers for so long chatting then, sweet tart. You might just go deaf," the fox muttered under his breath as he heard, quite clearly, the insult from a few tables over. He had never tripped the woman on purpose, he had never caused her harm, at least not in the physical sense. But, hey, once she started to show her claws who was he to resist a good cat-fight? As he reached the bar and picked up a slip he found he saw it was for one of the tables not in his area. Odd, why was it here then? With a tilt of his ears he swerved to look at the table the bill belonged to. Shocking to none the fellow there was young, moderately good-looking, and paying with a slick, black credit card. Oh, yes, Jeanette was absolutely wrong for this job.
Her interests weren't in working...at least, not working the tables.
With a smirk on his face he took the paper and walked up to the gentleman through the chairs and people. "I'm sorry if you've been waiting longer than you should, sir--our new hire isn't great with remembering faces. I guess she just forgot about you like she does. So very sorry! Here's your bill back," he then left the slip to the man, who looked surprised and a bit dejected, before turning with a twitch in his tail and starting back to the bar. Jeanette was already walking by when he had gotten half-way back, and he flashed her a coy little smile as she passed. The tipped chair, however, was a new one. But it seemed that little miss Kitty had forgotten just what she was dealing with. No clumsy human was he, no sir.
Outstretching his paw Rau caught the back of the chair and simply flipped his lithe, furry form over it and continued to walk like nothing had happened. Once over it, he glanced back at Jeanette and grinned widely. "Oh, no worries, honey. No harm in being a little clumsy. Next time, though, maybe leave the heels at home if you can't really walk in them. You could hurt a customer next time." Then, to add salt to the wound, he spotted the gentleman at the table getting up and heading to the door. Rau tossed him a wave, "Have a good evening, sir!" before turning back around to the bar, where he hopped onto a free stool to give and get his next drinks.
Only an hour left. Then she'd be off. Hey, maybe he could make her remaining time a living hell! Or not give her the satisfaction of making his night the same.
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Post by Jeanette "Leech" Grey on Mar 5, 2014 3:21:42 GMT -5
While many might believe the mutant to be discriminatory, being jealous of the fire-type, such things did not align with her belief. Pokemon were welcome to work. While it seemed a bit of a backwards step of the olden days, where they were free to laze about all day as symbols of status, Jeanette did not care. It was annoying and entitled entities, such as the nimble Braixen, that deserved to be left in the cold. How many of her tips had his sticky paws likely scooped up on this evening?
Jeanette truly could care less about serving drinks. Her true goal was discovering a perfect target to sink her figurative teeth, or more aptly mutation, into. The men she wished to snag, for the most part, enjoyed heels. The deadly curves of the ankle, like the silhouette of a predator’s fangs, snagged their gaze. She could walk in them—it was just a bit harder in such a darkened room. She refused to alter her footwear to fit the job; her ankles would eventually memorize the floor. Flats would merely, to any male worthwhile, make her look flat-footed and uncaring about prestige. The shoes she had possessed without heels, about ten of them , were rarely worn when on the prowl. At the moment, hearing the mutterings from the fox, she debated on stabbing the stiletto through his skull.
The vixen was shattering her mask and legendary composure. Her sweet as sugar façade, forced for the most part, was clumping when this being spoke. “ While I am thankful for your concern, plum, it’s truly not needed—I’m not the one murmuring in the corner.” She inserted the bill beneath her male customer’s hand. She patted it twice and gave a flirtatious little hop away. She disliked that couple nearly as much as Rau—why must they patter on about religion? The tiny frown was quickly replaced with a tiny smile.
Faces were what she remembered. Jeanette never really forgot them. She knew what her great-granddaughter looked like, this stupid fox, and even the elderly old gentleman who came into this place each night to order a quiet cup of coffee. Rau was imprinting himself deeply in her mind—by pissing her off.
The chair trick had failed. Turning to the fox, nostrils flared, Jeanette wshed Elizabeth was here to devour this annoying little brat. “I seem to keep slipping on dr—“ The comeback was cut short as the target left. No! This little fuzzy bitch had robbed her newest target. Orange eyes widened with alarm. Had he forgotten something in his haste? A hat? A jacket? Nothing.
What had he done!? She had memorized his name! It was the third night the tall, dark, and handsome gentleman had sat in her section! How dare this animal destroy her carefully laid plans? Someone called her attention. Eyes lingering on the departing male for a moment, practically slobbering over the muscle car awaiting his touch outside, she turned to the woman with an empty glass. “Of course, darlin’! I’ll get that right out for you~” The smile seemed genuine—Jeanette was just imagining roasting the Braixen over an open flame.
The suave socialite turned at the last minute and caught the orange eyes of his hostess. She smiled at him and gave a wink. He responded in kind. That silly rodent had no idea who he was dealing with! It did not matter that her legs hurt—the battle was on. “ I am certain you know the trials of walking in heels, sweetie—Pokemon are truly such emperors of fashion.” She smiled at Rau as she walked by. A platter was balanced in her palms.
When she chose to work, instead of moaning about it, Jeanette was practically a machine.
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Rau
POKEMON
Posts: 35
OOC Name:: Keiran
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Post by Rau on Mar 7, 2014 15:28:39 GMT -5
Oh dear, poor Jeanette, she looked so very shaken by the loss of her next catch. Really he would never understand the appeal of hopping from wealthy fellow to wealthy fellow, sucking up their funds like their life's blood, and then flouncing off into the night. He could see it happening almost every night--and not just from is coworker, of course--but it just flew over his fluffy little head. Maybe it was just because he had his heart kept content and warm in the vines of another Pokemon, a seven-digit-paycheck not involved. Were humans always looking for new ways to complicate a incredibly basic concept like love? So foolish. Then again, it was that complicated brain that came up with such gorgeous works of art, music, and of course absolutely breath-taking clothing.
Every beauty had a beast.
"Another gin & tonic, two jokers, and a brandy sour," he listed off the order of a party of four, two girls and two boys, before turning on the stool so he could lean against the bar while looking out at the mosh-pit of dancers on the floor. Jeanette was sliding her way closer like a persistent slug, her smile as sweet and clean as Irish coffee. He didn't feel too bad about ruining her plans, but there was always something about that painfully plastic grin of hers that did break his heart on an admittedly smaller scale.
Maybe Rau could try to trim the thorns from this rose instead of glaring at them? How the hell could he do that? She must hate him, right? One fluffy yellow ear twitched at the mention of that word. Fashion. Dammit, she had a point--she had the body to wear those beautiful gowns and skirts and blouses, not him. She had a model's body, made for the names of the kings and queens he admired so. But he couldn't envy her now! Focus on the positives: he wasn't breaking his ankles for the sake of his waistline, now was he?
...because he didn't have that waistli--DAMMIT to HELL!!
Rau sneered at the passing leech. Oh, she got him good. "I wouldn't know, darling. I like to keep my ankles from bleeding in the mornings," he hissed as she walked away, just in time for his tray to arrive. He took it and scurried away, letting the cheerful and already tipsy quartet pick their desired poison before moving to his newest table. And instantly noticed something about this new fellow's suit.
Rau had to force himself to grin pleasantly throughout the man's simple order of an old fashioned before he practically ran back to the bar, hopping up onto the stool closest to Jeanette and grabbing her elbow, pulling her in to whisper in her ear. Sure he hated the woman for he snide comments, he ridiculous choices in footwear, and her absolutely fake personality, but this was not something he could keep to himself. "That. Man. There. Is. Wearing. The Vanquish II," despite himself, the fox was beaming almost ear to ear as his tail pointed right to the new fellow at his table, "Dormeuil!! That is a ninety-five thousand dollar suit. Jean. Go. For. HIM." Who was he to deny a gold-digger a diamond mine?
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Post by Jeanette "Leech" Grey on Mar 17, 2014 3:37:38 GMT -5
The master fisherman was not shattered, Jeanette was enraged. Her current mood did not look so much as a tear-soaked handkerchief as a Molotov cocktail. Flames of rage flickered beneath the surface.
The perfect man had just left the bar! Would her next husband enjoy a woman with a Braixen fur muff? Breathing through her nose, in an effort to calm herself, the woman tried to regain her composure. Her venomous tongue was the result of failure. The life of slaving away for a few dollars, likely ruining her feet in the process, was beneath her. Was it too much to ask for a man to help her along the way? She was a relatively faithful wife—she despised sex in all its uncomfortable forms. Jeanette never embarrassed her hosts; she merely ended their lives when it began to languish in quality.
Beauty was the beast, albeit with nearly non-existent curves. She never saw herself as immoral. Her childhood had made these things see normal. Just as her body remained stuck in the past, fixating firmly at around twenty-seven years old, the waitress’ mind remained in the late 19th century.
The woman could not remember the last time she had truly smiled—with other people involved. Her life was a continuous existence of a circle trying to fit into a square hole. She truly did not fit with males. Her existence of perfect and plastic wife truly reflected her true desires. Why was that lazy mutt sitting down? Did he not have customers to run off, coworkers to annoy, and nonexistent hips to flaunt?
The volcanic anger, bubbling just beneath the surface, was on the verge of eruption. The comment about fashion seemed to drive a knife in. In truth, Jeanette did not hate the Braixen; he just, like a child with a feline, rubbed her the wrong way. The smile became a bit less plastic. Pain, like her own, made her feel a bit better, sometimes. The sneer was greeted with a ripple of gloved fingers. “My ankles are not bleeding in the least—though how you manage to keep your dainty feet safe, without shoes, is truly a mystery—“ What fashionista did not wish to wear shoes? “Do some places refuse you service—for violating the ‘No shoes and shirt’ rule? Rotten batch of dirty racists.” She waited for her drinks.
When those paws grabbed at her arm, nearly sending her tumbling, the woman turned. Her face was an angry snarl. The words drew her eyes towards the older and quiet fellow—he was not the sort who flashed his money. He had nearly been lost in the brght lights, flaunting, and shouts of the younger crowd. Why was he doing this? “Is he truly?” She recognized the shape and cut of the suit. Turning to the fox with a frown, tiny and wondering, Jeanette strolled towards the table.
Her and the man, who cupped his drink in his leftmost palm, seemed like a wise old gentleman. The dirty blond continued to chatter and charm him. Laughter. Waves of the hand. Little flaunts and flourishes. The visiting continued for a few moments between drinks. When he began to chatter about intelligent topics, such as astronomy and investing, he blinked when what he thought was a dumb blonde shifted easily into the conversation. The drink chinked against the table. Orange eyes saw a flash of silver on his left hand. A sigh forced itself by glossy lips.
Realizing this was likely a lost cause, she had never been comfortable shattering marriages, the woman moved back towards the Braixen. “Why would that matter to me dear—it’s just a silly old suit.” What sort of human wore something called the Vanquish ? “Besides, while I appreciate whatever you were attempting to do, he happens to be wearing something else—“ Jeanette was quite familiar with the contours of a wedding ring. She had worn eight of them.
Pokemon likely had little need for such things. It wasn’t his fault for being closer to an animal than a man. “At least I can trust your judgment in men—“ Shrinking in her stool, having no idea how two men could stand those parts of the anatomy together, the waitress wilted. “I truly get tired of this bullshit at times.” Her second break had not been taken yet. Jeanette needed a break.
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Rau
POKEMON
Posts: 35
OOC Name:: Keiran
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Post by Rau on Mar 21, 2014 10:42:52 GMT -5
"By watching where I'm walking and not bumping into chairs for one. And...not many places do. At least not anymore. Times are changing, dove, the sooner the better," Rau's voice was calm and tipped with venom as he spoke, his ears tilted back in such a way that betrayed his distaste of this subject more than he was letting on. He wasn't an activist, why would she bother bringing up this topic? To bother him? Well that was a lower blow than he'd expected. It was like asking her if some men still expected her to stay at home and make them dinner and clean the house all day. Not that he would stoop to that level of awful. If the nasty taste of such words in his mouth didn't kill him, Pau's shameful expression if he found out would do it instead.
Despite the bitter cloud in the air, even the Braxien had to admit it was a sight to see Jeanette work. Not work-work, obviously, but when she wanted to get her claws in a man there was nothing more pretentious and wonderful than seeing her plaster a plastic smile on her face and flirt her way into their hearts. Rau hated it and loved it. He hated the pretense, the falseness, the oh-so-thick layers of stupidity and shallowness that she caked on like make-up to get a guy. On the same tick he loved it. She was like a television drama on legs. Still, it looked like this rich fish wasn't the catch of the day.
Rau actually pouted, his fluffy cheeks puffed out more than usual, when she returned empty-handed. Married, huh? At least she had her morals about some things. "I should have looked closer." What kind of fox was he to miss such a shiny accessory? Then, to his genuine surprise, the mask slipped off of Jeanette's words as she slumped into her stool. Turning his attention from the man in the silk stitched suit to his coworker one of his ears dipped down in curiosity. She actually looked normal right now. There wasn't a painfully wide smile on her face, flirtatious or spiteful or otherwise. Was she just too tired to keep it up?
...had he taken his brake yet? He could spare a moment, right?
"Hey, sweetie," hopping up onto the stool closest to her, Rau rested his elbows on the bar and his chin in his paws, keeping his red eyes on the woman besides him, "I know you've probably heard this line a thousand-hundred-million times, but...can I get you a drink? I think you need one. C'mon, I swear I'm not a poison-type," he lips twitched into a foxy little smile, "Though I can mix a mean Manhattan. Thirty minutes off your feet probably wouldn't hurt, either. What do you say, darling?"
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Post by Jeanette "Leech" Grey on Mar 27, 2014 8:21:29 GMT -5
The dirty blond felt her expression curdle; it was the physical embodiment of spoiled milk. Lips twisted into a displeased expression. Orange eyes narrowed to angry slits. Arms folded over her chest. The woman was half tempted to shove the fox on his pretty little back. Luckily for him, as she truly was not a Pokemon abuser or a child, she resisted the urge. She preferred more elegant, and underhanded, manners of revenge. “ I happen to watch where I am going—“ Her vision was not that of a fox—just plain human eyes in her mutant head. “No? We must not go to the same places.” She knew of plenty of locations that still banned Pokemon. “Times always change—just not as fast as you think.” People would likely still arrest her for being what she was. A hundred years from now, if Braixen lived that long, prejudice would still exist. Humanity was just full of backwards-thinking Neanderthals.
In fact, if he had asked about sexism, he might have received an incredulous glance. Was that not what wives were meant to do? Was that not what many women, secretly, wished to do? It was just out of fashion. Men pretended to enjoy women who were independent. Raised in a time where other options were nonexistent, and living in such a time for ages, Jeanette had difficulties comprehending change. Was she not the same? It was one of the reasons, even if she hated the feeling, that her life was filled with male after male. Jeanette hated men—especially ones who slept with her. The woman wished the bar was a bit larger. She could avoid this rodent. Elizabeth, as she had snapped at an annoying child drug in here, was banned from the premises. Where was decent conversation when she wished it? Her opinions on Rau would soon change.
The blonde woman was a tigress on the hunt---though not truly for companionship. Tigers were mostly solitary. She could sling drinks and force a smile. The aching in her feet seemed to be a mirage. The glossy lips perked up in a smile. Acting? That happened to be, while not any of her college majors, a specialty. She did not wish to be poor for the rest of her life. Why should an immortal slave away for pennies—just because she had to hide? The flirting was a trained dance; she knew it as well as the salsa. The bait would be left behind for the man. She would not tempt him; it was cruel to whatever woman waited at home. She didn’t want no whore coming after her hard-earned catches. The button that had ‘accidentally’ fell from its mooring was quickly put back into place.
Marriage was a sacred—and stupid—institution. It wasn’t her style, atheist or not, to trample all over the church. They might decide burning ‘witches’ was back in style. The man, as she turned away, looked a bit forlorn. His drink was made. His food would be fresh. He had just become another piece of the job. The crowd was beginning to die down---this lull was when the waitresses were switched over. Tired servers rarely kept up with the upbeat tunes of the disc dockey.
“He had it hidden beneath the glass.” The woman gestured vaguely towards the door. Her own left hand, which had been bitten into by eight different rings, paused for a moment. The finger wiggled. “It wasn’t your fault. “ The bitter words held an unuttered ending: for once. “I really have no idea why you set me on him—I’m no dog. Pokemon get the oddest ideas—“ they were btoh aware of what she was doing. It was just unladylike to admit such a thing. She hoped the rich old sod, with his old-fashioned, was happy—otherwise, she’d missed a chance. Stupid morality.
The woman wished to be home. Her silken pajamas, spotted like the silent cheetah, called her name. Her maid would likely have just finished dusting the living room. The bathtub would be bubbling away with warm water. It would be time to read a few books, pull off the cloyingly sickly-sweet mask, and read. The world would not flaunt its stupidity in her face. With a tiny sigh, which she thought went unnoticed, she turned back towards the rabble. An eyebrow twitched. What did that stinking fox want? Was he here to poke at her profession? “Yes, foxy?” What was his name? She found herself remembering nothing other than a flaming letter ‘R’ and the groan of some drunken patrons.
“A drink? Are we even allowed to do that on the job?”The voice, which started out in its normal tones, switched into faux innocence. “More than that actually, fuzzy.” Regardless, as all the current customers seemed happy, she sank onto a barstool. “The damned shoes could use a break; they’re getting dull—probably, huh?” Something a silly little stereotypical blonde might say. It was perfect. “I’ll take a drink.” Nothing more. Nothing less. It better be free—she might discover her love for muffs again otherwise.
Hands lifted to her cheek. They stroked a wrinkle that had seemingly popped up in the past hour. Soon, in order to have what she needed ( a few more years), cash would be required. Time could be bought and sold too. “You’re with that Venusaur right?” A pause. Her nostrils wrinkled. How does that even work—just ow.
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Rau
POKEMON
Posts: 35
OOC Name:: Keiran
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Post by Rau on Mar 29, 2014 11:05:56 GMT -5
Didn't go to the same places? Probably not. Rau adored human culture as much as the next...well, maybe there weren't many Pokemon as obsessed with it as he was. But even with his odd fascination for it, he didn't often go into clubs or bars or "fancy" establishments. Not for prejudice's sake, mind you, but for lack of funds. This job barely paid him pennies compared to what the human workers made. Still, it wasn't the money he was really after. He was paid with a badge for his freedom. Even if the gesture was more symbolic than actually protective, it still meant something, at least to him. Rau grumbled under his breath, just a bit bothered by the "I'm not a dog" line coming from Jeanette. Oh, how easy a "but you are a bitch" line would be right there. If only the mood right now were a bit different.
"Darling, who am I not to play matchmaker for a pretty young thing like yourself?" he replaced his off-put gaze on the man with a small smirk, "It's in my nature to be cunning and curious, isn't it?" Lies. Foxes were cunning and cats were curious. While he was certainly one of those thing, the other was a bit less suited to him and more befitting his partner. Thank goodness for that.
Really, playing innocent now? After all of this? Rau almost snorted at her tone of voice--almost, to actually do so would have been much too undignified--and did a quick hop from his stool, over the bar, and onto the railing that kept him on eye-level on the other side. Normally it was used to store cups, but since his employment it had gained a different use of keeping him up to the customers. Without it only his ears would have been visible. That was a cute visual, maybe, but helpful on the job it really wasn't. "So long as we don't spill it on customers or drink ourselves into a corner, I believe it's allowed. I've seen the dinner shift folks doing a shot each before the rush. Can't really blame them."
A smile played its way along Rau's face at Jeanette's confirmation, his paws snatching up the martini shaker and a bottle of whiskey, bitters, and another bottle of sweet vermouth. "Coming right up, sweetheart." He set to pouring the drinks in and giving them a smooth, quick shake before her question reached him. An ear tilted down in thought as he picked a clean cocktail glass from the shelves and set it down, adding two ice-cubes before pouring the drink in. "Yes'm. Going on five or six years now...and get that look off your face, sweetie. It's not like that," he chuckled, impaling a pair of maraschino cherries on a clear, sharp stirrer before placing them into the glass, "Romance it more important to Pau than physical stuff. All you need is love and whatnot."
He left the details of their love life at that.
"What about you?" Rau squeezed an orange over the drink and stirred before sliding it forward to Jeanette, smirking as he spoke, "Do you secretly have some young, middle-class secret lover that you can't whisk off their feet until you marry a wealthy man?"
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Post by Jeanette "Leech" Grey on Apr 5, 2014 3:02:36 GMT -5
The majority of her experience with Pokemon, until they began to assert rights, had been in subservient roles. The creatures made deliveries. They ferried tourists from island to island. Using powers and control over steel, likely without compensation, they assisted humans in prying apart broken cars. Where were the protesters against things like Rau—Pokemon with equal liberties? Jeanette was surprised that, as of yet, the human community had not fussed. Then again, as she had signed a paycheck or two, she knew the difference between her pay and that of the Braixen. Was it for that reason, as the drink was a more generous gesture, to take him up on it? Honestly? Jeanette just wanted a damn drink.
The orange eyes slid from that man to another few targets. Many of them had issues. While one or two may have been millionaires, such as the darker-haired man with the mismatched eyes, issues existed. The aforementioned man had only won the lottery—his money could be gone tomorrow. While the dirty blonde knew how to make her money stretch, she had some bookkeeping experience and ideas of investing, she was horrid at saving. This young punk, with his money, was likely the same. “Someone who is far too kind to little old me?” The woman gave a perky smile. Had she truly missed the word ‘not’ in Rau’s words? She hadn’t. “I thik curiosity is in the realm of felines, sweetie. Not Vulpines.” The woman lifted a hand stroke the counter. “I just wish it was simper at times.” Why could the men not be consistent!? It was difficult to catch prey when it constantly changed habits.
The look of false innocence remained. Only one shot before the dinner rush? The people in a club before the action were likely unbearable. The woman, and her feet, were glad to avoid that time. “I am relieved to hear it. I have no intentions of spilling it on customers—even if I’m just clumsy old me.“ Fiery eyes narrowed at what she thought was an intentional slight. The shallow and vapid smile remained.“Or becoming drunk—it’d just be silly..” She could not remember the last time she had been tipsy, much less drunk. It was dangerous. Her power could snap. She was careful to avoid alcohol.
The drinks were poured. She would gladly, with her recent disappointments, break her self-imposed rules. She decided to be, at the very least, polite. “Thank you.” The words lacked the earlier peppiness, she could give an honest thanks. Jeanette laughed. “I apologize—Pokemon are truly not any odder than humans in that regard.” They were much odder. “I truly wish you the best.” The idea of love drew a wrinkled nose from deep within. Legs switched positions. It was bullshit.
“I don’t happen to have anything that interesting, sweetie.” One gloved hand rose to rub at her cheeks. It was a waste of time having eight or nine different husbands—they were all the same. “I don’t.” Just the tiniest sigh. Wouldn’t it be stupid to believe all that shit? What idiot truly did? “If I happened to look for wealthy men for another---or at all—I’d likely be less picky.” Lifting the glass to her mouth, and taking a sip, she put herself in her original position.
"It's all just bullshit anyway--love." She hadn't even happened to have her first drink yet. Jeanette was just, at her core, a pessemist. The fake smile, which was rotten in its sweetness, began to vanish. She found nothng good.
(Please do not post for at least 24 hours! : >) (
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Rau
POKEMON
Posts: 35
OOC Name:: Keiran
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Post by Rau on Apr 7, 2014 9:08:36 GMT -5
There was a small, irritable quirk to Rau's smile when Jeanette snagged on his words. She was good at playing dumb to be mean. Was that better or worse than being outwardly spiteful? He'd leave that up to the individual to choose. To him, it was more of an annoyance than anything else. "That's the dating scene, honey. What ever happened to old values and fine morals and good breeding? There ain't no gentleman that's fit for any use," he chuckled at his use of song lyrics and, bending down once more, picked out a bottle of mineral water for himself. It was never wise for the bartender to drink his own concoctions--the last people you wanted to be drunk were the cops on the street and the guy mixing your drinks. That was a bad combo.
He danced around the clumsy comment like the chair he'd avoided earlier. If she could spill her drink while sitting down, he'd eat his own tail. "You're welcome," Rau popped the cap off of his bottle and took a sip, his fuzzy lips getting wet. He wiped it off with a cloth, looking a little bothered. Water was only okay on the inside of his fluffy coat. When he looked up at Jeanette again, he found the crinkle of her nose similar enough to his look of distaste to get a small laugh out of him. Either she had thought of that after all or something else was on her mind.
And then she let it out. In a moment, both of Rau's ears pointed back as she started to--shockingly--speak her mind. The smile dropped again, the crisp as burnt sugar demeanor crumbling away as she continued. Bullshit, huh? Wow, under all the bubbles and beauty his coworker was quite cynical. Even he couldn't have guessed that at a glance. "Well, to each their own, but if you're just doing it for yourself, it's a hell of a lot shallower," he fiddled with the little plastic ring around the mouth of the water bottle, "I take it that you're not the kind of person who likes a good romantic movie for the first date." Maybe she was more the kind to spit on happy couples in the spring.
"Y'know, maybe it's not the love that's bullshit. Maybe you just haven't been doing it right," he smiled again, sincere as could be, and placed his bottle down on the bar so his paws were free to cross over his chest, "When's the last time you were yourself when talking to a man rather than Bonnie Dumb-Blonde that was going at it two minutes ago? And don't lie to me, darling, you can't flip the Kinsey scale with a flip of your hair."
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