all_inclusive | Don't worry about the zebras

Behind the bar and dispensing drinks in little more than a loose tank top, Olaf feels like he's found his calling in life.

(Never mind that this isn't actually him working so much as he'd ducked behind the bar to steal his own drink, accidentally served someone else a drink, and that had been two hours ago)

Olaf's pretty sure that he could do bartending on a regular basis. After all, he knows his liquor, he's had endless amounts of experience listening to people's problems, and being an oracle means that he not only usually has a solution, but most of the time, it's pretty sure the right one! True, 'most of the time' for Olaf depends on the sun in the sky and a lot of other factors, but he's pretty sure that he's having a good day today.

He serves up a screwdriver, a sex on the beach, listens to a hotel guest mourn her ill luck with men, and drinks a beer all before he notices that there's someone new having approached the bar. True, he's not actually the bartender or anything, but given that Olaf pretty much fills his days with a hazy miasma of slacking off and generally not giving a damn, he thinks that playing at bartending for the day can't hurt.

Of course, if this gets him banned from the bar, that could have some severe ramifications down the line.

"What can I get you?" he asks cheerfully and hopes the answer isn't 'your arse out of here, now'.

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Olaf grins widely, thinking that unlike people are groovy beyond belief and this woman in front of him doesn't fit in any of the established boxes that he knows. He makes a drink that lends to her appearance -- white and grey, a bit strong, more than a little flirty with a swirl of pink for colour. He serves it up, grinning like he knows a secret.

Which, he does, but it might not necessarily be her secret.

"And? What's the verdict?"

Chiana likes the look of it, at least, and recognises it for what it is - her colours, down to the dash of pink that she is choosing to think is her tongue, although she's pretty certain she's never shown him that, unless she got a lot more legless than she thinks her first few nights here, but she thinks she remembers them, for the most part.

She'd hate to forget anything involving her tongue.

She grins again at his question, in appreciation, and a little twirl of the straw in the drink swirls the pink around a little more before she takes a sip. Her hand slaps the counter in excitement after she swallows, and she leans forward on the counter, smiling wide at the human. "Where'd you learn to make that?" It tastes just like naslir, the first alcoholic drink she shared wth Nerri after they made it off of Prime.

Olaf shrugs because he's been alive for so long that he genuinely doesn't exactly remember where he learned to make half the things he knows how to make. "Here, there, everywhere. Sometimes, they just pop into my head without me really even having to think about them," he says seriously, given how sometimes he'll wake up in the middle of the night with the bolt of an idea about drinks.

That could be alcoholism, though, and not being an oracle.

"Now that's a nice skill to have," Chiana congratulates him, perfectly honestly. She doesn't know if he's being honest, or purposefully evasive, but about this, it doesn't matter. Or she chooses to think that it doesn't, because of the memories that come with the drink.

She takes another sip and smiles again, settled a little more appropriately, by human standards, on the bar stool. "Reminds of a drink I haven't had in cycles." Possibly her memory is blurry because it has been a few cycles, though, but she doesn't think so.

Olaf's pleased that he's managed to make something that can be consumed, seeing as there's always a chance of it going way too strong when he puts the mixes together. "I'm glad to hear," he says, also delighted because mixology is definitely a skill he'd like to be remembered for. He offers his hand out to her with an easygoing grin.

"I'm Olaf."

"Chiana," she answers, watching his hand curiously before putting her gloved one in it. Not right for a handshake; she doesn't know about handshakes.

Olaf looks at her hand in his, shaking it and eyeing the gloves curiously. For once, he figures he ought to let her tell him the story rather than wait for the universe to fill in the blanks for him. "You sound like you come from around my area, but you don't look like anyone I've ever seen before. There has to be a story there."

"Human, right?" Chiana checks, but doesn't really wait for an answer. "From what I heard, you lot don't venture very far away from home. I'm from very far away from home." Or so she assumes, since none of the humans she's talked to are used to other races. "You sound closer to home than anybody else I've met so far." Between that and the drink, she's definitely enjoying the familiarity, even if he looks like a Sebacean. She supposes that bartending Sebaceans might be alright, as long as they had no ties with the Peacekeepers.

Olaf shrugs and doesn't answer when she asks if he's human. He supposes he is, technically, but his spirit is far older and he's a god, so he's not entirely sure how human he is, in the end. "My body might not, but my soul," Olaf says, grinning. "Give me enough drugs, the good shit, and I can travel the whole universe," he guarantees. "Where's home, to you?"

Chiana's smile widens at his words about traveling the universe; she can't help but like this human, really. But that's a loaded question, and she breathes in all sibilant. "Home doesn't have to be a place," she answers, and it's not a cop out, it's actually the truth. There isn't any one place she'd wanna call home. "But I come from Nebari Prime. Your drug trips ever taken you there?" she asks, grinning again.

"Never heard of it," Olaf replies, pouring himself a large glass of vodka as he talks to her. "Then again, it's not as if I remember even half of what I experience while I'm on drugs. I only take the good stuff," he says firmly, as if that's something that genuinely has to be said. "And sell it, at times."

"You'd have hated it there, anyway," Chiana assures him with a confident half smile. Sure, the Establishment had the very best drugs, but they used them as a chemical straitjacket, a temporary measure to make people conform (possibly prior to a proper, permanent mind cleanse), and she didn't figure that was Olaf's style. "So, what are human drugs like?" she asks curiously, leaning forward on the counter again.

"Give me a few hours of your time and I can show you," Olaf replies, with a winning grin and a flirtatious wink, seeing as he has a regular stash of them tucked away under his drawer in his room and he feels as if he could happily share them with anyone he meets. He's very giving, like that.

Well, he's just mentioned selling them, so Chiana has to check, even if she likes his tone. "A little free sampling?" she asks with a hopeful and, yeah, inviting smile. Le 1 août 2014 16:58, "trulyoracular - DW Comment" dw_null@dreamwidth.org a écrit :

"We'd have to go back to my room," Olaf says, given that he might think this place is a pretty relaxed atmosphere, but he's still not going to bring the law down on him (in case there is law). "I don't carry them on me."

"Hey, any time you're off work," Chiana states easily. "My schedule's pretty open as long as I'm stuck here." Le 2 août 2014 18:58, "trulyoracular - DW Comment" dw_null@dreamwidth.org a écrit :

Don't worry about the zebras

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