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

[namesgiven]

Olaf. She doesn't repeat the name aloud, but she commits it to memory, continuing her study of the people she's met here.

"I am," she says easily, appearing to pay almost no credence to the second part of his sentence. The direct flattery doesn't seem to be amiss in the hotel, as if it's something that's changed over time -- which is probably true. It reminds her, in a distant sort of way, of Ethan. Perhaps it's the brashness, which seems to smack of her American companion.

She doesn't entirely mind it. It's a pretense, after all. She's accustomed to things that hide behind shades and masks, and this flirtation is just that.

[trulyoracular]

"Well, in that case, you should let me buy you a drink," he insists, which in Olaf-speak mostly means he's going to make a drink and serve it to her and hope that no one notices that the inventory is gone. He's made a good habit of stealing things for years and years, so he's pretty sure that people won't notice. "Something strong, for you, I think," he says, narrowing his eyes. "You don't seem the kind of woman who takes kindly to being underestimated."

[namesgiven]

"Nothing stronger than the present one, I hope," Vanessa answers, smile on her face. She has no intention of having more than one drink. She's uneasy about letting too much of herself go, especially after the last possession. But she's enjoying the conversation and isn't ready to let it go.

"How long have you worked at the bar here, Mr. Johnson?" Vanessa asks.

[trulyoracular]

Sometimes he forgets that not everyone has the constitution of a god and therefore can't handle their liquor as easily as he can. "Well, it's, what, nearly half past six? In that case, I've been a bartender for a whole hour," he informs her proudly, lifting his chin as if that's something to be pleased by. "Normally, I sit where you sit, as a customer."

Note that he didn't say paying customer because there's a difference and Olaf makes a big one. "No one was around, though, and it didn't seem like anyone minded when I started pouring drinks."