Difference between revisions of "Log:Franklyn Gets a Bloody mary"

June 3rd, 2017

Frankly and Alex have a first encounter at the bar. Franklyn professes surprise that Alex is of drinking age. Much snark follows.

Cyclone

• • • IC Time: Sat Jun 03 03:39:36 2017 ***
    • OOC Time: Sat Jun 03 03:39:36 2017 ***

It's early on a Saturday - it's likely that Cyclone hasn't been open for too long, what with it -barely- being acceptable drinking hours. Who doesn't like a mimosa with their weekend brunch, though? The front door of Cyclone opens, and in steps Franklyn -- well, sort of. She lingers at the doorway; dressed in black leggings, suede ballet flats, and an oversized flowy chiffon top with a black-and-gold check pattern. Hair? Up on a bun. Sunglasses? Huge and covering half her face.

Hungover chic. That's Frank's look.

A sharp inhale, and the cigarette she's puffing on is smoked down to the butt: Franklyn then flicks it carelessly out into the street beyond, and exhales a plume of smoke as she steps into the bar. Rude! No smoking laws are a thing! Perfumed with a paradoxical combo of noxious fumes and some fancy sandalwood scent, Franklyn makes an immediate b-line for the bar. No waiting, no hesitation, no dilly-dallying: she's a woman on a mission, apparently. Fingers are drummed on the bartop, rings and bracelets jingling as she calls out, sing-song. "Hellllooo?"

The girl who greets Franklyn's call is a distinct contrast to Franklyn's movie star levels of alcohol inspired glamour. It's like having Audrey Hepburn walk into your bar, complete with the odd way of making everything seem to be in muted colour or black and white, like a film noir retro pastiche filmed in the style of the late greats.

That might just be the result of the smoke filtering through the air.

The girl herself is a bundle of frenetic energy carefully contained into a slender, petite package that manages to be both cheerful and thoughtful as its grey-blue eyes scan the people present. Alex is wearing a black cyclone t-shirt and a blue denim skirt that shows off her long runner's legs without being exceptionally revealing. It's a good look for the girl, especially with those thick, wild honey-brown curls which seem to be both her pride and joy and her curse. No amount of product controls those.

"How may I help?" The smile Alex flashes Franklyn is dazzling, ignoring the smoke and its effects on the surrounding area. It's a distinct contrast that lights p her face, adding to the sheer colourfulness of the girl herself. Caramel skin, nearly blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect white smile. Black shirt... Charm bracelet in red with letters on little beads taking up the center. (They spell out 'Alexandra White' for the truly keen of eyesight.)

The young woman's eyes watch the cloud of acrid smoke as it quickly disperses. It barely leaves a smell. They might have an ionizing air filter inhere. "Mmm! Right. ... Drink? Lunch? ...Thing, um... Pain pill?"

Admittedly there is a sort of 21st Century less-cheerful Holly Golightly vibe about Franklyn - of course, it's all Earthen and mundane, so hardly striking and never wonderfully Wyrd or nothin'. As Alex addresses her with that energetic cheerfulness, Frank takes a moment to peer at the young woman over the rims of her sunglasses. Isn't it dim in here? She should probably take them off... And yet she does not. She just waits for Alex to finish speaking. And then Frank breaths in deep and sighs.

Siiiiigh.

The Garreau woman slumps forward on the bar in an controlled flump, elbows propping her up as she looks past Alex and towards the display of booze. "Ugh, I can't even -begin- thinking about food. Can I get a Bloody Mary?" Chin is lifted as she gives Alex another once-over, eyebrow arched above the rim of her shades. "...You know how to make one, right? Like, a proper one?" It's like Franklyn is suspicious of the younger woman's professional prowess or something. Sheesh!

"Nope, you'll have to live with the red juice, two dabs of pepper sauce, and a bottle of whiskey," Alex responds, rolling her eyes as she does. Somehow she doesn't manage to lose that good-natured tone even when snarking at people. She might even be serious. The girl nods once and then walks away from he counter to start scooping up bottles.

Oh good. Alex does go for the vodka. Not that she's looking; the diminutive girl of vaguely determinant ethnicity hardly glanced at what she was doing as she pulled everything together. Must be a popular order. That varies between bars.

Tomato juice, vodka, worcestershire, tobasco, lemon juice... Alex might be expected to whistle as she works but instead she adds the pepper stirs thoroughly and then gets the a glass of ice together and starts pouring the drink between them. And, in almost record time, Franklyn is presented with a Bloody Mary, celery stick and all, one would be hard pressed to fault provided they like the traditional. She even hit the horseradish.

Franklyn gets a once over from Alex now though the woman doesn't really betray her thoughts given the smile. "He's hoping it helps, right?" She takes a slow, deep breath after stating this and finally shrugs.

It's not like there are other customers to bother just yet.

When Alex snarks back at Franklyn, the mortal woman looks agog and aghast - mouth curling into a grimace of protest, until her brain catches up and comes to the conclusion that the smaller woman may be joking with her. Frank oophs, moving to slide up onto a bar stool - that huge black carry-all carefully hooked on a purse-hanger under the bar, so she can keep her hands free. For a moment. They're promptly used to hold up her chin, as Frank whistles low and raises a brow high.

"Damn, I didn't know we got free sass with our service - is it a Saturday special?" She watches as Alex makes the drink, taking in a deep breath - to calm her nerves, or just get some oxygen flowing. Smoking takes it toll. Franklyn looks pleased though, as the horseradish is added. Aw yis. "You been here long? Looks like you got taught mixology in kindergarten..." As the drink is handed over, Frank accepts it with greedy glee.

It's immediately sipped at. Franklyn hasn't even paid yet!

"If it bothers you I can pretend to be a robot and just say yes, ma'am, here you go, ma'am, thank you, ma'am," Alex responds, eyebrows lofting as she does. "It's really your choice." There's a faint shrug to follow this pronouncement as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "They did teach me mixology in kindergarten, though. It was shapes, addition, and the difference between... triple sec, rum, and schnapps." She scans the shelf behind her brielfy before turning her eyes back to Franklyn.

It's hard to really take Alex's words as bitingly sarcastic when they're delivered with such a carefree smile and in a completely earnest, gentle voice. It's all up to the customer to interpret, of course. "Really, I'm not as young as I look. I could even drink that. You know, legally. It shocks everyone. Even me. Anyway... I've been here close to a year, I guess? How's your drink, by the way?"

It's bar that serves food. Franklyn can ask for a check later. Alex is probably in more trouble for not asking for an ID.

Franklyn snorts with amusement at Alex's words - inadvertently blowing bubbles into the Bloody Mary. "Be careful, if what we read in the paper's is to believed, all worker's will be replaced by robots in the future." Something grim flashes over Franklyn's face there: a glimmer of discontent, of bitterness. Complicated and brief, for Alex's next comment has the hungover woman raising her eyebrows, sitting up straight and raising a hand defensively to her chest.

"Oh shit, I wasn't trying to suggest you're too green or nothing - you move like a pro, is all. Accept this as my apology for doubting your obvious devotion to the craft." Franklyn lifts the glass in toast, "Because it is glorious, thanks." She drives that point home by taking another long sip - slurp! - then exhales huffily as she slouches down to rest an elbow on the bar again.

So animated. Ice clinks together as she pokes her straw at the drink. "...So. A year. I bet you see all sorts in here, eh? What's like, the -most- /crazy/ shit you've seen go down? Any bar fights over who's the best maple tappin' pro in town, or whatever?"

The blonde-haired girl waves off the apology with a grin and a nod. "I get it. I do look like six years younger than I actually am. I totally get it." Alex grabs a rag and pretends to be wiping up the bar. She keeps it pristine so no one would buy this but at least she has her hands busy in case the owner walks in, right?

"The craziest thing I've seen in here? Huh." Alex's expression is thoughtful for a second as she considers this or a long moment. "There was this one guy who came in here and started going on and on about how he'd lost his dragon and he wanted us to come help him. He started up with one of the dudes in here and they started arguing. Guy said he'd stolen his dragon and he kept saying there ain't no such thing.

"Turned out to be one of them... You know. Lizards. Monitor- damn it." Alex scowls, shaking her head in a flurry of curls as the word escapes her. "Anyway, he mistook the guy in here for the dude who actually store is pet. Gigantic too, with claws and fangs and all that. Just, you know. No fire. Unfortunately. THey got into a big ol' fight and I had to toss 'em out."

"So you're like, what, twenty-one?" Franklyn teases, smiling as she sips her boozy breakfast. The attention to the bar-maintenance is ignored, in favour of watching Alex's expression as they chat. That's the problem with working in hospitality: people only comment when thing go /wrong/, not when they're being run right!

Still - as Alex gets thoughtful, Frankly gets curious: pushing her sunglasses up to the top of her head, as if seeing clearly will have Alex share more stories. Her eyes are a bit bloodshot and tired, but there's still some mossy green brightness left in 'em. "...Dragon? Woa-- oh, right! Damn, who like, keeps gigantic monitor lizards? I thought those were like, illegal - on account of the, like, mouth full of bacteria or whatever..."

Franklyn does not know her lizards, apparently. "Huh. Weird about the mistaken identity. Why do'ya think that happened? Guy must've been real convinced he had the right pet shop owner, if they got in a -fight-. Was anyone hurt?"

"Nah. They went a couple rounds and then we kind of rolled the dude with the lizard out of here. He was all bark." Alex just laughs softly at that, shaking her head again as she does. "And you know. People aren't supposed to have them but they still do. No matter what it means for them or the animals. Anyway, I'm twenty-four, thanks." That smile brights are hair from there. She doesn't mind the mild third degree- or she does she hides it well.

"Name's..." Ther'es a brief glance att he name bearing charm bracelet and then the girl finishes with, "Alex, by the way. Have you been in here before and I just missed you?" The counter wiping is finished and the rag set aside. Finally someone else wants a drink but it's simple and after doling it out Alex soon returns to her place across from Frankie at the bar.

Franklyn 'huhs', slurping her way towards the bottom of her Bloody Mary as she listens to Alex. "People are fucking -weird- when it comes to animals, right? Like, I saw this guy with a rat on a leash and a -crow- on his shoulder, like... like he was some weird pirate, eh? These critters should be like, free. Not paraded around." So much passion! It's short lived, though.

Frank's curiosity is piqued by Alex name-checking herself via the bracelet. It takes her a second to pick up on it, sure, but it is noted. And it is not dropped. "...Did you just, like?..." Free hand gestures to the bracelet - her tone more curious then mocking. Takes her a moment to respond. "I'm Franklyn -- and uh, I may have popped in here before, but usually I go to the wine bar over by the theatre, or the cocktail lounge in the Red Clover..." She looks around Cyclone, head tilted to the side. "This place is... Nice though."

Snob! Franklyn doesn't seem to realise, but she does hold up the Bloody Mary with a smile. "This is -really- nice though. Colour me impressed."

"Did I just what? Check my own name on the, um... You know thing. String of beads. Whatever." Alex rolls her eyes, though it is more directed ath erself than Franklyn. "Doesn't everyone?" The girl asks then, twisting very slightly as she does so. "And this place is nice. Not a cocktail bar but the owner is really nice and it's comfortable. Food's great too."

Alex splays the fingers of her left hand on the bar, showing off even unpainted nails and her ability at holding fairly still, at least for a moment. For the most part some part of her is always in motion, doing some thing or another. "And thank you. I'm glad you like it." The acceptance of the compliment is genuine, to judge by the way Alex seems to glow a bit when she smiles again. It's in the cheeks and the eyes, really.

"Nice to meet you, Franklyn. Glad you came this way tonight. I guess the theatre is probably where Irecognize you from then...?" She purses her lips, eyesn arrowing as she compares what she sees with some image in her head. "Or mabye an online video or something...? Um. Huh."

Franklyn nods at the comment about the bracelet - totally without shame. Looks like she wants to press the matter, but something keeps her back. She fidgets with the drinks' straw, ice clinking together. "Nice is -nice-, but it's not always, like, what a person wants, eh? Not that you are wrong - this place /is/ nice..."

She gives a little shrug, then smiles at Alex - only a little wry. The colourful woman's glow may be bright, but that doesn't keep Franklyn from being a little cynical. As mention of being recognised is made, Frank's expression changes - a flash of weariness. "Oh goood, those videos..." So an admission!

But not a long one. Frank looks embarrassed possibly - slurping up the last of the bloody mary, before grabbing a $10 from her chunky wallet. It's put down on the bar and slid forward to Alex. "This has been nice, Alex. Thanks for givin' me a hair of the dog that totally ravaged my brain. You be well. Don't get in the middle of any fights above your weight class, yeah?"

A grin and a wink, and Frank looks like she's ready to high-tail it on outta there.

"I get you. Sometimes you wan to get a little dirty. Been there. Got the t-shirt. And some of the scars." Alex nods her head once, that brilliance dimming for a second to take a more serious cant. Then she's all smiles again. Alex possibly can't be anything but.

"Got it, won't mention the videos again," the young woman offers with a brief two-fingered salute. Then she is leaning forward slightly over the bar. The $10 is accepted carefully and then Alex nods, tilting her head. She looks as if she's about to ask Franky if she wants change- but then the woman is already leaving. So instead Alex calls, "I'm a flyweight but you'd be surprise. Take care of yourself, kay? Come back in sometime."

When the grin is offered Alexandra is waving in response. She doesn't pursue. After all, her job here is done. Another satisfied customer.