March 17, 2012
2:00 a.m.
Study Hall Bar & Grille
The up-lights went up, the music cut out, and one of the bouncers shouted his usual end-of-evening slogan. ?Alright, everyone, time to go home!? Tonight, though, he hadn?t needed to shout. Most evenings, the din of conversations carried over when the lights came on and the music was turned off. There were alcoholics pleading with the bartender for one last drink, frat guys taking one last stab at convincing girls to go home with them, or drunks whooping it up loudly for no apparent reason. This evening, though, the bar was mostly empty. Except for the staff, there was a half-elf and a dwarf making out at the bar, and a quartet of short, stocky humans in khaki shorts, polo shirts, and baseball caps playing pool. Once the bouncer snorted and stared at the remaining customers for a few seconds, they quickly got the message. They paid their tabs, gathered up their things, and headed for the door. Having a seven-foot tall, heavily pierced and scarred minotaur as the head bouncer did wonders for keeping patrons in line.
Once everyone had left, every single barmaid, bartender, and bouncer looked to the night manager, eyes gleaming and smiles ready. He knew what question they were going to ask him, but he decided not to preemptively answer it, making them squirm as they rushed through clean-up for the next day?s opening. It was St. Patrick?s Day, but that didn?t mean nearly as much as it might have meant on Earth ? or most Earths. The old pagan and agriculture holidays were the main attractions on RhyDin ? Beltane, the summer solstice, and the Harvest Festival would be far busier than tomorrow. Add to that the fact that the RhyDin Arts and Sciences College was on spring break through the rest of the weekend, and it all added up to one question, just waiting to be asked?
?We doing after hours?? one of the waitresses asked, fixing pouty lips and big brown puppy dog eyes on the manager. There were murmurs of agreement and excitement from the rest of the staff. Their boss, however, looked skeptical.
?I don?t know?? He watched their faces fall into frowns and scowls, before looking back at his two bartenders. ?You guys up for sticking around and slinging some more drinks??
The shorter of the two bartenders spoke first, running his hands through medium-length brown hair. ?Sure, if Rob?s cool with it.? He looked over to the other bartender, who was drying a glass. He set the glass down on the bar-top and flashed a thumbs up.
?It?s cool with me, dude, long as we can pour for ourselves,? Rob said.
?Well, then?? the manager dragged it out, enjoying watching his staff fidgeting. ?Okay.? A loud cheer erupted, before he spoke up again. ?But we have to keep it somewhat quiet. No music, not too much noise. Okay?? Some staff nodded, others murmured their agreement to his terms. The bartenders shifted from cleaning the bar to serving drinks, starting with themselves. The shorter bartender poured himself a pint of red lager, while Rob mixed up a vodka bomb in a highball glass. After fortifying themselves, the tenders went to work on serving their fellow staff members.
An hour or so later, after a few drinks, a comfortable buzz had settle over the staff. One of the bouncers and a couple of waitresses had gone home, since they were working again when the bar reopened later in the day, but the rest of the staff remained, sipping beers or slugging shots of tequila and whiskey while Rob tried to wheedle any indecisive orderers into trying one of his concoctions. A few brave souls tried Irish Car Bombs, J?ger Bombs (or the RhyDin equivalent, since J?germeister was scarce), and Long Island Iced Teas, while others stuck to more comfortable drinks. After his first vodka bomb, Rob had settle into drinking draught Badsider, while his tending companion had stuck with his initial choice of red lager.
?Rob, can you make me something special?? The barmaid who had first broached the idea of an after-hour party leaned against the bar and fixed her chocolate eyes on him.
?Hi, Courtney. Liquid cocaine?? Rob rested an arm on the bar and leaned towards her.
?What?s that??
?Well, here, it?s?? He grabbed a bottle of RhyDin?s J?germeister equivalent, a bottle of cinnamon schnapps, and a bottle of high-proof rum. He poured equal parts into a shot glass, then pushed it her direction. ?Enjoy.?
Courtney held the shot glass up, and Rob lifted his pint glass to clink against it, then took a long pull as she slammed the shot. She gasped and puckered as the drink hit her.
?Holy hell, Rob.?
?Yeah, it?s pretty much like that.?
?You owe me,? she said, her full lips pouting.
?Yeah, what?? Rob looked at her over the top of his glass as he brought it up for another sip.
?Tell me how you got here. To RhyDin, I mean.? It was a classic RhyDin ice breaker, and Rob had been in town just long enough to know that. He set his glass down with a grin, looked to make sure there wasn?t a line of employees waiting for drinks of their own, and began telling his tale.
2:00 a.m.
Study Hall Bar & Grille
The up-lights went up, the music cut out, and one of the bouncers shouted his usual end-of-evening slogan. ?Alright, everyone, time to go home!? Tonight, though, he hadn?t needed to shout. Most evenings, the din of conversations carried over when the lights came on and the music was turned off. There were alcoholics pleading with the bartender for one last drink, frat guys taking one last stab at convincing girls to go home with them, or drunks whooping it up loudly for no apparent reason. This evening, though, the bar was mostly empty. Except for the staff, there was a half-elf and a dwarf making out at the bar, and a quartet of short, stocky humans in khaki shorts, polo shirts, and baseball caps playing pool. Once the bouncer snorted and stared at the remaining customers for a few seconds, they quickly got the message. They paid their tabs, gathered up their things, and headed for the door. Having a seven-foot tall, heavily pierced and scarred minotaur as the head bouncer did wonders for keeping patrons in line.
Once everyone had left, every single barmaid, bartender, and bouncer looked to the night manager, eyes gleaming and smiles ready. He knew what question they were going to ask him, but he decided not to preemptively answer it, making them squirm as they rushed through clean-up for the next day?s opening. It was St. Patrick?s Day, but that didn?t mean nearly as much as it might have meant on Earth ? or most Earths. The old pagan and agriculture holidays were the main attractions on RhyDin ? Beltane, the summer solstice, and the Harvest Festival would be far busier than tomorrow. Add to that the fact that the RhyDin Arts and Sciences College was on spring break through the rest of the weekend, and it all added up to one question, just waiting to be asked?
?We doing after hours?? one of the waitresses asked, fixing pouty lips and big brown puppy dog eyes on the manager. There were murmurs of agreement and excitement from the rest of the staff. Their boss, however, looked skeptical.
?I don?t know?? He watched their faces fall into frowns and scowls, before looking back at his two bartenders. ?You guys up for sticking around and slinging some more drinks??
The shorter of the two bartenders spoke first, running his hands through medium-length brown hair. ?Sure, if Rob?s cool with it.? He looked over to the other bartender, who was drying a glass. He set the glass down on the bar-top and flashed a thumbs up.
?It?s cool with me, dude, long as we can pour for ourselves,? Rob said.
?Well, then?? the manager dragged it out, enjoying watching his staff fidgeting. ?Okay.? A loud cheer erupted, before he spoke up again. ?But we have to keep it somewhat quiet. No music, not too much noise. Okay?? Some staff nodded, others murmured their agreement to his terms. The bartenders shifted from cleaning the bar to serving drinks, starting with themselves. The shorter bartender poured himself a pint of red lager, while Rob mixed up a vodka bomb in a highball glass. After fortifying themselves, the tenders went to work on serving their fellow staff members.
An hour or so later, after a few drinks, a comfortable buzz had settle over the staff. One of the bouncers and a couple of waitresses had gone home, since they were working again when the bar reopened later in the day, but the rest of the staff remained, sipping beers or slugging shots of tequila and whiskey while Rob tried to wheedle any indecisive orderers into trying one of his concoctions. A few brave souls tried Irish Car Bombs, J?ger Bombs (or the RhyDin equivalent, since J?germeister was scarce), and Long Island Iced Teas, while others stuck to more comfortable drinks. After his first vodka bomb, Rob had settle into drinking draught Badsider, while his tending companion had stuck with his initial choice of red lager.
?Rob, can you make me something special?? The barmaid who had first broached the idea of an after-hour party leaned against the bar and fixed her chocolate eyes on him.
?Hi, Courtney. Liquid cocaine?? Rob rested an arm on the bar and leaned towards her.
?What?s that??
?Well, here, it?s?? He grabbed a bottle of RhyDin?s J?germeister equivalent, a bottle of cinnamon schnapps, and a bottle of high-proof rum. He poured equal parts into a shot glass, then pushed it her direction. ?Enjoy.?
Courtney held the shot glass up, and Rob lifted his pint glass to clink against it, then took a long pull as she slammed the shot. She gasped and puckered as the drink hit her.
?Holy hell, Rob.?
?Yeah, it?s pretty much like that.?
?You owe me,? she said, her full lips pouting.
?Yeah, what?? Rob looked at her over the top of his glass as he brought it up for another sip.
?Tell me how you got here. To RhyDin, I mean.? It was a classic RhyDin ice breaker, and Rob had been in town just long enough to know that. He set his glass down with a grin, looked to make sure there wasn?t a line of employees waiting for drinks of their own, and began telling his tale.