driftfleet | 005 - Will you do the fandango

Who: Crowley and you!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Iskaulit
When: Today!

[The Fleet will be greeted with the blasting noise of that song he got for Christmas, you know the one. If you don't, now you do. You're welcome. The screen flickers on to show the interior of the Iskaulit. Specifically, a brand new bar.

Everything is black and metalic, sleek and modern. Neon lights of blues and greens offer some light. This place screams fancy. It's even got a pretentious name, the word 'Málum' in red above the bar proper. It's an inside joke.

Crowley turns the device to grin at the audience.]

So, Varric may have started up his quaint little shithole but I'm here to offer you an alternative. After all "I might get a disease from one of these chairs" isn't what some people are looking for in a watering hole.

Open til late, free shot with every pitcher, yadda yadda, come and drink your troubles away. Enjoy our jukebox with songs from...whatever the fuck is on the network. Sorry if it's shite. That's just standard jukebox fare, if we're being honest.

Let's drink our bullshit troubles away.

[[OOC: And from this point on, Málum is a location you can use! If your character wants a handwaved job, they're welcome to it. The more people, the less Crowley has to work for himself and he does love less work.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh, of that I have no doubt.

[That gets another little smirk before she adopts a more professional expression.]

In all seriousness, though - [She pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket and slides it over to him.] - I think Allen might have a small heart attack if I just gave you things for free.

[She'll never agree to charge for medical care, but on this? She can be persuaded. On the paper is written a simple enough agreement, scrupulously fair in its demands. She's not out to stick it to Crowley, only wants to make sure she can keep paying for the supplies to make the synthehol.]

[That makes him laugh.]

I know Allen well enough to not want to be on the business end of his bookkeeping. I can live with that. How'd you want it, credits or patched through to the Blue Fish's account?

You can just send it through to the Blue Fish's account. [She smiles.] I trust Allen will know what to do with it.

[He'll pocket it with a smile.]

Can do, and trust me, Allen knows how to balance books. You ever want a fun and terrible story? Ask him about his debt in Paradisa.

Now why do I have the feeling that's something Allen would very specifically not want me asking, hmm?

Because it haunted him for all his years there. It's why he had to join the Host Club.

[So she's not one to go digging into people's personal history, especially after the calibrations, but her curiosity gets the better of her, alas.]

.... what's the Host Club?

It was a group of men in the castle, who hired themselves out to be...um escorts to anyone who had the right price. Nothing underhanded, of course. But still. They paid well, from what I understand.

Oh.

[Beverly blinks. That's... not the answer she was expecting, though she can't really say what she thought it was going to be.]

Poor Allen.

Edited 2016-01-31 03:21 (UTC)

It wasn't a terrible place, don't get me wrong. It was run by an idiot who lived in some weird...fantasy land in his own head. Made a hamster bed out of wallpaper once.

Still, it was fairly humiliating for Allen.

I'm sure it was.

Which is why I'm not going to go ask him about it.

[It actually puts his estimating of her up very high. That she'll respect Allen this much. He won't show that, instead giving a long suffering sigh. ]

You people are just no fun.

[She raises an eyebrow. "You people?" She's going to let that go, however... it only seems like a good way to land them back in square one. Instead she just comes back with some regular old sarcasm.]

Well if you're going to be like that, I'll just leave take the rest of the synthehol back to our ship.

[Srcasm is always the best way to handle Crowley, honestly. ]

Now, I didn't say that.

[She stands and pushes herself away from the bar.]

Good. [And oh so sweetly:] So you're going to come help me carry it in, right?

I'm allergic to manual labour.

Suppose I could float it in, though.

Allergies, hmm? Good thing I'm a doctor then isn't it?

Touché, madame, touché.

[She smirks as she heads for the door.]

Are you coming or not?

[He heaves out a long suffering sigh, though he's smirking so it clearly isn't all THAT bad, following her. ]

Fiiiiiine. I'm coming.

[She rolls her eyes.]

So dramatic.

I can be more dramatic if you want me to.

[He puts his arm over his eyes. ]

OH! Oh woe is me. My poor little life. Being made to do work. Wooooe.

[Is it possible to clap sarcastically? Evidently so, because she's managing it.]

Bravo. We'll have to sign you up for the next Fleet talent show, hmm?

[He does so love sarcastic clapping. ]

I wouldn't want to put the other contestants at an unfair disadvantage.

(no subject)

dancingmd - 2016-02-08 01:13 (UTC) - Expand

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