catch-all.

[merced]

WHO: Aranea Highwind + select individuals
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: OOC: February | IC: September 16 - 30.
WHAT: February catch-all!
NOTES OR WARNINGS: n/a for now - will edit if needed.

If you'd like to plot something / for me to write you a starter, feel free to hit me up via PM to this account!

Comments

[cheffeur]

[Unlike Aranea, who had been hanging out and watching for trouble, and Ardyn who had been doing.... whatever it is he even does here (Bartend, supposedly. Just sort of hang about and make things that much more irritating for himself and Aranea, more often than not), Ignis had been fairly constantly on the move all night. Polite smiles and attention to the customers, catching whatever conversation fluttered across the bar-- because as basic as this job is, he still has a distinct pride in it.

He's got a shaker in one hand (The ice-on-metal noise tempered due to the lack of real ice given the water shortages- but the reusable frozen cubes seem to work well enough nonetheless-) and a martini glass in the other, flickering his eyes in Ardyn's direction as soon as he catches his name.

Of course it's pawning off something else on him again. And, bitterly, he knows the man would be equally pleased by his acquiescence, and by his refusal, each of them just a different move in whatever game the man is playing.]

-Momentarily. Customers come first, unfortunately. [A pause, as he begins pouring the fluorescent drink into the glass, to the delight of the sloppy-drunk customer sitting in front of him.]

Though I do believe we have enough glasses for the moment. If you'd so kindly just put the order in to the kitchens to start. I'll fetch it for her afterwards.

[In his mind, it's a decent compromise. Make the man do something, don't trust him with actually making contact with an ally's food.]

[merced]

[ She certainly hadn't meant for her petty request to be palmed off on Ignis, but trusting Ardyn not to take the most unpleasant route possible in response to her childishness. A brief, apologetic pull of the mouth - an awkward smile, half a wince, partly - is chanced Ignis's way.

Then, when a very familiar sound floats up from somewhere behind them, Aranea rolls her eyes and starts to slide off her barstool. With her leg still tightly braced up, it takes her a few seconds.

brb, boys. gotta deal with someone who drank themselves sick. ]

[daemonized]

Of course we’ve enough glasses to spare. We’re surrounded by them. [He laughs lightly, lost in the ambient noise of the crowd just beyond the bar. He realizes that’s not the point, but anyone should know that Ardyn twists around words purposefully.] But that’s hardly a reason to let them sit dirtied while I’ve time to clean them.

[CLEANS THIS PARTICULAR GLASS VERY POINTEDLY]

Oh, I’ll put in the order, I suppose, since you’re so busy at the moment. [He tilts his head in Aranea’s direction, who’s gone off to stop a drunk from getting too rowdy. A common sight in an establishment like this.]

But she’s preoccupied, too. The pizza can wait a minute or two more.

[Sure, Aranea can request for him to do this-and-that, go to-and-fro, and Ardyn can comply… but he’ll do so while smiling and dragging his feet the entire time.]

[cheffeur]

[There's a few moments before he responds- Updating his implant's notes on the woman he had just served with the time of her order, what he had made, attaching it to the facial recognition to make sure he'd have it should she approach the counter again- and then giving the shaker a quick wipe-down, before depositing it into the oddly-glowing UV sterilizer built into the counter.]

I'm sure you have time to do a great many things.

[Like fuck off. That's a thing you have time to do, Ardyn.

Still, there's a tight-lipped, forced smile as he shrugs at the man's weaseling out of actually doing anything.]

Well, I suppose they do say cleanliness is next to godliness. Maybe if you're get enough practice here, when we get back home you can shine Ramuh's boots.

whoops hi guys......

[merced]

[ It takes about five minutes for Aranea to return to the bar, and when she does, she has one (1) very intoxicated individual in tow. That is, a young man is leaning against her, feet every which way, head lolling forward. She's got her arm around his back and supports his weight easily, even with her injury still lingering. The front of his shirt is, uh, quite stained. With what, you may ask? Who knows. Aranea certainly doesn't. She's also not hurrying to find out.

A bit unceremoniously, she pushes him into a seat at the bar. One hand is kept on the top of his head, the other holding his chin up. ]

Hey. [ She snaps her fingers at whoever's closest. ] Get me a glass of water.

[ From a commodore in the imperial army to ensuring drunks don't choke on their own vomit... Aranea bites back a sigh, barely, and does the job in front of her. ]