Don't worry about the zebras

[trulyoracular]

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'.

Comments

[trulyoracular]

Olaf can't help his amusement at the brusque nature the man has when he orders the drinks, giving a cheerful look in reply. "Yes," he agrees, but he's trying to generally appeal to the man's seeming nature to want drinks. He's getting full waves of something from the other man, something that he can't put his finger on, but he's not normal. Nor does he think him to be a god, though. "Except, maybe you might have to tell me how to make a Bellini. I don't think I've even seen one in my life before."

[morethanhuman]

Erik had to smirk a little at that; he'd never seen one either, until he'd stumbled off a space station into a sunlit arboretum and a charming cynic from the 1920s offered to buy him a drink. But at this point he'd seen Jordan coach several bartenders through the making of them (some with more patience than others) and felt reasonably confident in his ability to do the same.

He pointed to the mini-fridge behind the bar. "Peach puree's on the top shelf. Two spoonfuls in a champagne flute and top with Prosecco." Erik watched the man assemble the drink, occupying the space behind the bar without any of the economy of movement he was used to from seasoned bartenders. Add to that the notable absence of the Nexus staff's usual prim dress, and Erik felt suddenly sure he was being served by a hotel guest. "Did Marcel quit, or were you just tired of sitting on this side of the bar?"

[trulyoracular]

"Mainly, I was serving myself drinks," Olaf confesses as he starts to fetch all the things that have been pointed out for him to make this 'Bellini', which sounds like someone Ingrid and the girls might drink (it also sounds delicious, so Olaf might have to give it a whirl). "And then someone ordered a drink and I thought, hell, why not?" he says cheerfully, sliding the beer over the bar, following by two Bellinis -- one for the lady, and one for him. "Olaf Johnson," he introduces himself.

"And you are..." He tips his head to the side, trying to sense the waves coming off the other man. "Interesting, definitely. Contemporary, though, that's always nice," he says, given that Olaf has lived for ninety-three years, so he's seen a lot of them, but hey, he always likes remembering the past.

[morethanhuman]

His eyebrow arched; in another context, or maybe if the man were even a little coy about his assessment, Erik would wonder if he was being hit on. Instead, he found himself grinning at the man's careless frankness.

"Erik Lehnsherr," he said. "A contemporary— so you're a hippie, then?" Between the facial hair and the man's general air of relaxed unconcern, he might have guessed. But the question was mild— he didn't share the contempt popular society had held for the beatniks and stoners of the time; after hanging around Sean Cassidy for a few months, how could he?

[trulyoracular]

"I used to be," Olaf says cheerfully, given that he'd spent a good deal of the sixties and the seventies seeking to forget as much as he could because it was the enjoyment of the whole thing. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I don't still enjoy the drugs and the alcohol and the sex, but I do bathe more than I did during that decade."

[morethanhuman]

"I can't really speak to much beyond 1963," Erik said, "but from the people I've met since leaving home, it doesn't appear that drugs, alcohol, or sex ever really go out of style. Not showering, on the other hand..." He shrugged. He'd been accused of fastidiousness on more than one occasion, but as far as Erik was concerned personal hygiene wasn't optional. He'd spent too long filthy and downtrodden to ever take hot showers and tailored clothes for granted.

"At least hot water's never in short supply here." He grinned and added, "Neither are drugs, alcohol, or sex, now that I think about it."

[trulyoracular]

"You spend a few months in Africa and some of the Pacific Islands and I promise you, it all fades away," Olaf assures with an easy grin, given that he'd been addled by drugs too, of course, but those do help in any situation. "No, there's a lot of all of that, and the latter three are categories I feel personally able to admit claim to," he boasts, lifting his vodka in salute before he begins to sip at it.