Alcohol and Cigarettes

[Marquise Draca]

The Bar

The vast, dimly lit room was alive with the sound of jazz music, the tinkling of glasses and the acrid smell of cigarettes mingling with the sickening sweetness of perfume. The Cabaret was unusually busy tonight, and the bar was operating with an almost feverish intensity.

These were the nights Marquise loved, the intensity, the rush. The show was nearing its end, but the Barmaid watched with an intense interest in her eyes as the dancers entertained their (mostly unsuspecting, human) crowd. She had seen more or less the same routine, but it never lost its effect on her. She wiped out yet another glass she had just watched out, polishing it with the cloth before setting it on the shelf.

Another order was placed, and she set the mug of beer in front of the disheveled looking man perched atop one of the bar stools. She knew most of the men that came here for a drink did not have the money for the harder stuff, but whatever worked... Marquise sighed, glancing over at the Bartender and wondered how he was fairing, she knew he was new to the Cabaret. The crowd sitting around the lit up bar, with its assortment of alcohol on colorful display, gradually thinned and she finally had the time to exchange a word with him.

"So, how's the new job treating you?" she asked, her smile baring fangs. She had been working with him for a while now, but she couldn't resist poking a little fun at the new ones. "Mr. Fletcher isn't unnerving you too much yet, is he?" The human bartenders didn't seem to last very long, she couldn't imagine why...

[Dylan Miller]

Dylan had kept moving all night. It seemed like he'd make one person's drink, make a drink for someone else, and then the first person would need a refill already. And while he did that, three, four, ten more orders would come pouring in! It was a lot busier here than the last place he'd worked at, but, on the brightside, he was also making a lot more in tips. Not quite so much as would justify his exertions, but much better than his last job.

At last it began to quiet down as it got so late as to be early. Humans were sneaking out before daylight caught them engaged in the illegality of their patronage, and the dark clientele had to make it home before the sun locked them in the cabaret.

And Dylan was hungry. He'd been too busy all night even to pull a human aside for a snack, let alone a proper meal. Thank goodness (badness?) that there were at least other servers to help him.

"Hm-What?" Dylan hadn't noticed the other server at first, putting together one last drink after his last call. "Oh. It's better than no job. Is it always so busy here?" Dylan asked, his eyes flickering over the bar in general before returning to her as he leaned against the back of the bar.

Dylan gave her an uneasy smile at the mention of their boss. "He's something else." A class-A nutjob, to be sure. But a job was a job, and tending bars was a hell of a lot easier than mill-work or hauling coal, even if it was more stressful at times. Dylan was determined to stick it out, nutjob or no.

"We were introduced hastily before. It's Mar-something or other, isn't...?" he asked, offering her a hand to shake. "Dylan Miller."

[Marquise Draca]

The confusion was evident in the Barman's answer to her question, and a fanged smile creased her red lips. She served another one, and again turned to face him, and answer his question of course. "The Cabaret always does fairly well, yes, however, our popularity seems to be increasing."

She washed out another set of glasses, stacking them neatly on the shelf behind her. The smells from the kitchen, not too far off, reached her acute senses, making her aware of just how hungry she was. She turned her attention back to her work partner, who now wore an uneasy expression as he talked about their boss.

Marquise stifled a laugh, reptilian eyes showing through her disguise for a moment. "Oh, Mr. Fletcher isn't that bad," she uttered as somewhat of a comfort. "Just make sure not to get on his bad side and you should do fine!" She had to admit, she was starting to like this boy, he had quite the sense of humor.

The humor dropped from her face, however, for an instant as he tried her name, "Marquise," she announced, a little coldly. She was a prideful creature, despite the fact that most of her species was now extinct, and the slightest rub against it did not bode well with her. But her good natured mood returned as he offered her his hand, into which she slipped her own and gave it a firm shake.

She took another look around the bar, most of its patrons making their way out now. "Would you care to take a little break, Mr. Miller?" She asked, "I believe we both earned it for the work we've put in tonight".