2009-05-15: A Little Flattery


Hilary_icon.jpg Nik_icon.jpg

Summary: A new patron comes to the bar. Nik is feeling a little flirtatious before the conversation gets deep.

Date: May 15, 2009

A Little Flattery

Rating: PG

NYC - Nowhere

Nowhere is a community bar, with a slightly old world feel. All of the tables and chairs are made of wood, though there are some couches in a slightly offset room with green fabric. The music varies, depending upon the Owner's music taste for the day. Beer and Liquor are both served, but are both carded for as well.

At the front of the bar, right as one walks in,is a large sign. "Superhuman friendly establishment. There will be no tolerance for disparaging remarks based on one's genetic status. Any fights will not be tolerated within the bar. The management holds no responsibility for where combatants are teleported."

Early mornings at Nowhere can be pretty slow, especially when there's nothing major going on. Nik doesn't mind running the place this early. Sure, he doesn't get tips, but he gets profit. It's his place after all. Leaning against the bar, he swabs it down with a damp rag, stretching his arm across it. Nik, like many people in Mutant Town, is an obvious mutant. His blue hair and glowing blue eyes give some of it away. Anyone who touches him will feel the rest.

Oh, it's early. Awfully early to start drinking. But it doesn't necessarily put a stop to Hilary, who waltzes right in when he finds to his surprise that the place is early. Unfortunately, he waltzes in with a trail of black slime in his wake, as if he'd stepped in paint and it hasn't dried up. He sits down at the bar, unmindful of that fact. "Good morning," the Englishman greets in his highly cultured tones.

Fortunately, things tend not to stick on the floors here for some unknown reason. But that's probably a trade secret for the resident bartender. Nik looks up at the new entrant, immediately reaching out through suddenly appearing blue portals to wipe the floor if he can get it clean. "Morning. Anything I can getcha this morning?" He asks, a mildly pronounced southern accent to his voice.

The substance is rather like oil, so it is not impossible to clean, but not pleasant. Hilary considers the selection behind the bar. "Well…let's have a Bloody Mary to start," he says, as if ordering a salad before a meal. He glances over his shoulder. "Sorry about the mess, by the way."

A proper bloody mary basically is a salad. An alcoholic salad. "Sure. Any type of vodka in particular that you want?" He asks, reaching out for a glass. Nik offers a pleasant grin as he does so, along with a wink. "We have more than what you see here." He admits. Just ask that rock guy…

Hilary clicks his tongue quietly, considering the vodka question. At length, he shakes his head. "No, I don't care," he says, smiling lightly in response to the bartender's good service and affable attitude. "Not too cheap," he cautions.

There's a nod from Nik as he places the glass down. A portal appears from it, a few clinks of ice falling in from nowhere. After a few more seconds, a pair of portals open as juice and vodka begin pouring in from different angles. He doesn't really look or pay attention since he knows this one off the top of his head. Other things add here and there for extended flavoring as he speaks, "I'm Nik. The proprietor of the place." He says, offering a hand over. If taken, his hand is quite chilly, bordering on cold.

Hilary watches this portal business with some interest. He's never seen anything quite like it! But once Nik speaks, Hilary reaches out, too, giving the fellow a handshake, lofted brows showing his slight surprise at its temperature. "Hilary," he answers. "I don't usually come down to this…area, but so far I'm rather impressed. I loathe most of the bars I've been to."

"I try to make mine something more. Sure, this may be mutant town, where people look and seem like freaks, but we're just people tryin' ta make our day to day life like everyone else. That's why I opened a bar. It was gettin' so some of us couldn't go anywhere without being told we wouldn't be served. Just like the 50s, ya know?" He says with a grin. "Well, welcome to Nowhere." He says with a quick wave. "Sorry, I ain't started any music yet. I'm still wakin' up."

Hilary shakes his head. "I don't need music," Hilary replies. "Just a good drink in a clean place. Particularly one where I'm not worried about fights breaking out. And…one that is open at this hour." He shrugs at the description of the mutant plight.

"Last fight broke out, I dumped the culprits in the Mississippi river, down near N'awlins." Nik says with a laugh. "I don't take kindly to people causing a stir in my bar." He says with a little bit of force, but a wink after. He obviously doesn't think Hil's gonna try anything. "So, you came to the right place, handsome." Nik then slides the drink over to the patron with a chuckle.

"I don't suppose I could smoke?" Hilary wonders without much hope. Because that would just about tic the last box on Hilary's checklist. He flashes a quick smile to show that he understands if not. "Yes, very likely," he agrees, accepting the finished drink. He has a sip to test the quality of the bar's concoctions. That's a pretty important box, too.

Nik was trained in New Orleans. On Bourbon Street. If his drinks weren't top notch, he'd never have made it. Nik shakes his head. "Unfortunately, Mutant Town is still part of New York. That, I can't do anything about. Legalities and all." And fire doesn't mix with his portals at all. "However, I do have a patio area that's outside and free for smoking." He offers with a nod. There's nothing against outdoor smoking.

"Well, nothing's perfect," Hilary allows philosophically. Judging by his expression, he at least appreciates the drink. He pulls a five dollar bill out of his pocket and puts it on the bar as a tip.

Nik doesn't take it away just yet. "The vodka is a special polish reserve. I had someone request it, and he's the only one who drinks it, so I figured I'd see how other people like it. Seems really mellow, but strong." Nik says with a nod.

"I like it," Hilary says frankly, having a slightly deeper drink. "In fact, you may be realigning all my drinking-establishment loyalties as we speak."

"As long as you like it and are not a problem starter, it's more than fine with me. My staff's all fairly easy to get along with. My new bartender is working out really well, so…" Nik says with a grin and a waggle of eyebrows. "And, we're open all of the legal hours."

"No, no, no. I don't go starting problems for people who provide the good alcohol," Hilary assures the bartender. "So. This is fantastic." Another quick smile. "Tell me:" Hilary says, "I notice your accent lacks the harsh, grating tones of the New York native. Where is it you're from?"

"Kentucky. Spent a few years down in N'awlins, too." Nik says with a chuckle. "Powers came on, I woke up in Louisiana. Go figure." He says with a wrinkled nose grin. "So, mostly in the south. But I figgered they could use a bit of southern charm here in the Apple, so…"

"Splendid," Hilary says. "Despite most New Yorkers' apparently dim views of people from the Southern parts of the country, I tend to prefer those manners to the ones I run into here." He has another swallow of the drink.

"We're nice folks. Usually. Though, most people do tend to be a little insultin' down there. Of course, they try to hide it. I remember people comin' up to me as a kid, 'I don't mean to say you're fat… BUT'… Thank goodness I lost it all." Nik grins, leaning over across the bar near Hil.

Hilary lofts his brows. "You were fat?" he wonders with mild surprise, not using any of the more pleasant euphemisms he might have to refer to the childhood weight. He sips his drink again, making rather quick progress through it so far.

"Before puberty kicked in… mind you, I was seventeen before I saw the first hair on my crotch." Nik laughs a bit. "I weighed… a lot. I was 5 feet 4 inches, and weighed well over 250 pounds." He says with a nod. "Dropped down to 105 and grew six inches that year. And it was another year yet before my power awakened. So, I was a late bloomer. And tubby."

"Very interesting," Hilary says. And he doesn't seem patronizing about it, either. He finishes off his drink. "I would be very surprised, however, if you had found New Yorkers /more/ polite about your condition."

There's a bit of a shrug. "Actually, they're more often annoyed that I'm open about my sexuality." Nik says. "Mutants are common place here. Sure, there are a lot of closed minded assholes, but… superpowers are everywhere in New York."

"Hmm," Hilary agrees. "You know, I would like to see a study," he begins on another note. "Did more homosexuals mutate than heterosexuals? Or do I just have no idea where heterosexuals spend their time?"

Nik begins to grin slightly. "Who said I was gay. I like a little bit of everything. There's no point in denying enjoyment." He says with a laugh before shaking his head softly. "Actually, I think a lot more of it has to do with the mindset of the average gay or bisexual male versus the average mindset of the average straight male. If you think about it, primarily here in America, men are given a viewpoint and told, If you're a GOOD STRONG MAN, this is how you look and act. So most straight men who don't fit in with the viewpoint will try. If they can't because of mutation, they go into hiding, unless they were raised better than that. The average GAY male, however, goes against normality on a day to day basis, so their natural form is fine with them."

Hilary puts a hand up. "Excuse me," he says. "I didn't mean to offend." But he's smiling so he's probably not /too/ worried about it. "I don't know, I don't usually care to flaunt mutations." But he /is/ wearing an ascot! Go figure.

"Oh, none taken. I just like to confuse people." Nik laughs, grinning. "It's not always about flaunting. Mine don't turn off." He says with a shrug. "Glowing eyes and blue hair. Cold skin? Yeah, definite mutant."

"Well, I know," Hilary agrees. "I don't mean to say it is, exactly. I just mean I think most people with the option to hide it, do." He looks curious. "Do you have any non-mutant friends?"

"A few. Most of my high school and college friends are still friends of mine. But then again, I was a mutant in college." Nik explains with a nod. "I don't think anyone should hide things about themselves. Be open. Be free."

"I don't think things about oneself are always anybody else's business," Hilary returns. "I think people should have a choice."

"Well, choice is there. That's what I mean. I just think that shouldn't be something people HAVE to choose whether or not to reveal. I don't think it should matter." Nik clarifies. "Considering modern society forces people to. It's that force that I don't feel is appropriate."

"I don't know," Hilary responds. "I think one has to choose about every aspect they choose to reveal or not reveal. If they like sports. If they're afraid of the dark. If they have grey hair."

"They shouldn't have to though. People should be allowed to, yes, but it shouldn't be a requirement. I went to school with a guy who had half a head of grey hair in 9th grade. People made fun of him. That shouldn't have happened. People should accept that it's natural for him, so there's nothing wrong with it." Nik says, smirking a little. "That's what I've got a problem with. The prejudice inherent in humanity."

Hilary lowers his eyelids slightly. "So you can't make fun?" he wonders. "What exactly are you saying?" Hilary wonders.

"I'm saying, people should accept others as they are." Nik chuckles. "At least to their faces."

Hilary grins at that. "Behind their backs, anything goes," Hilary concludes. "I don't accept very much for what it is, myself. I think things should always be better."

"Ah, that's a different subject altogether." Nik laughs, shaking his head. "At least you DO think, though, handsome. Lots of folks in here don't."

Hilary lifts an eyebrow. It's true, he seems to decide, he /does/ think where others don't. So his smile is somewhat flattered, somewhat arrogant. "Hm," he agrees. "It's a rare enough quality. Half my job ends up being teaching people how to think, after all."

"How well do they LEARN to think though? That's the question." Nik says, sliding portals out to top off the nearly empty drink. He says nothing about payment at the moment. Perhaps there's a reason. PErhaps not.

"Usually not very well, but the odd one actually /does/. And that's one of the best times of all," Hilary says with some hint of pride. "It's not easy, though."

"That's the one really good thing about teaching. WHen they succeed, you succeed." Nik knows a little bit about teachers. But he doesn't specify.

"I suppose so," Hilary agrees. "Not that I'm /actually/ a teacher by profession. But yes, that's the idea." He lifts his eyebrows. "You don't teach, do you?"

"I don't, no. My grandmother was one. I helped out on occasion. I'll sub sometimes, but this is my primary profession. Running a bar. And sometimes teaching a new bartender."

Hilary nods softly. "Well, I'm sure it's a rather thankless profession. And that you make more running a bar. How much do I owe you, by the way?"

Nik says an amount with a shrug. It's lower than it should be. "Well, come back around more often. I don't mind at all. Eye candy's always nice." He laughs, teasing.

Hilary laughs quietly, pulling out a wallet so that he can pay. "I don't know whether you're serious or joking with all that," he admits, smiling. "I assume that bartenders have to flatter the clientele to keep them coming back."

"I only flatter the ones I find attractive. I use honest flattery. There's something good about everyone." Nik admits.

Hilary laughs, and he indulges in the rare wink. Just for Nik. "I'll be back," he promises.

"Alright then. If there's anything you want, let me know, and I'll be sure to get it for you." Nik chuckles, leaning back against the bar.

"Righto," Hilary agrees, lifting a hand in farewell and trailing the same black slime after him.

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