Get drunk while the space birdman judges you

[keephimtalking]

Who: Lantar Sidonis and anyone looking to get drunk or get hired!
Where: Weaver's
When: 12.02!
What: Lantar opens the new bar!
Warnings: Alcohol consumption!

[Open to everyone!]


Weaver’s doesn’t open with a lot of fanfare. Lantar just props up the sign outside and hurries back in before the chill starts getting to him under the five layers of scarves he’d put on.

The sign reads:

<- WE HAVE BEER
AS COLD AS THIS
FREAKING WEATHER
Experimental subjects
Taste tasters wanted. Free alcohol.

Potentially disgusting, but free.


Stuck to the front of the door is another sign.


HELP WANTED
Looking for: Bartender (1) and servers (2)
Willing to train


Come inside and have a gander! The selection isn’t that great yet, but Lantar’s open for input!

Comments

[singly]

Malia gives the tables a long look as he answers back, nodding firmly. She looks back to him. "Okay. That works." Training, that feels like it'll be a new area of life for her -- has she ever had job training? She really doesn't think so. That's all a good deal of information to take in, and her eyes do go a little wide through the list, but she smiles faintly and nods again. She's positive she can handle all of those tasks and duties, no doubt about it.

She answers quickly, "Evenings. I'd like those instead. And, I can start...whenever you need. I was just taking a walk, came by, saw the," a quick glance over to the door again, "sign." A shrug. "Decided to come in." A long pause. "Is there -- anything else you need to know about me? My name's Malia." That's tacked on, and she wonders if people always get jobs this easily. Or if there's more. A hiring process, if you will.

[keephimtalking]

Hiring processes were for actual cities, not bumfuck, small town Idaho.

He kind of... softens after that. Just a fraction. Just a few atoms. Barely enough to be noticeable outwardly but the edge of roughness is gone from his subvocals and he eases back slightly on his talons with a quiet huff.

"I'm Lantar Sidonis." Fetching another cup, he gets to work on polishing that up as he continues talking. "Gonna need first name, last name and address or some kind of contact for the paperwork. We'll worry about that in the next time you come in. As for when you can start..."

The man pauses to give the dearth of customers a vaguely unimpressed look before shrugging.

"If you wanna stick around, I'll give you a rundown of things. See if you like it any."

[singly]

She listens to the name, giving it a teeny smile of recognition. Staying put in front of the bar counter, she relaxes against it a little, taking in the small, easy to handle, list of other details about her that he'd need to know. Malia's eyes light up when he trails of, thinking she knows what he might say, a cursory glance over to the patronage there.

"Good night to show someone a bit of the ropes, right?" She moves then, on a more toward path to where Lantar is standing. "So I can call you -- Lantar?" Her brows lift as she speaks the name, not really knowing if she's ever heard someone with the name before or not, and it does feel foreign on her tongue. "I'd like to stay for a bit. However long you're open, if you want." She has nothing else going on that night, after all. Closing is probably pretty important at, oh, any business too, she realizes.

[keephimtalking]

"Place is open 'til midnight." Lantar sets the cup down and folds the polishing cloth away on a rack. "If you're up for it, be my guest. I reserve the right to send you home before you start gnawing the table legs off from boredom, though."

The way he says it makes it sound like it's happened many, many times before.

Moving a bit to give the human some space behind the bar, he kicks out a stool for her to sit on. This bar was anti-standing-on-your-feet-all-the-damn-time, dammit. Especially with this slow patronage.

"You want some pretzels?"

Humans like pretzels, right?

[singly]

Her forehead creases just so at that before an unsure, slow little smile crops up. It's a joke with an edge, she thinks, and lets her smile flourish more before she nods. "I'm up for it. The staying. Not the gnawing." Dogs do gnaw though, don't they?

With that action, Malia moves ahead to sit, unable to stop her eyes from lingering over certain parts of his body. Yeah, she's gonna have to ask what he is...

At the question and offer, her eyes wander for these aforementioned pretzels. "Sure." And when they're passed her way, she gives one a long sniff before popping it into her mouth, crunching slowly, lips pursing to the side. Not the first time she's had them, and even now, there's not a lot to them. Dry.

She eyes Lantar again. "So...what are you? You're not human." Anyone would be curious! Stating it so directly, with nary a polite manner in sight, she's nothing if not blunt.

[keephimtalking]

Fortunately for Malia, Lantar only recently learned what dogs actually even are, so the details of their behaviors are a bit lost on him!

He has, however, worked with bored Vorcha.

At her question, Lantar draws in air with through his teeth and exhales it with all the sense of long-sufferingness that someone who's had to field this question 500 times these past few weeks. There's a little bit of a pause before he answers though, filled with the rustle of paper as he nabs a notebook out of one of the drawers and flips through it.

"I'm a Turian," he says at last, ripping the recipe cheat sheet from the book and then moving to fetch the tape. "My species' motherworld is Palaven. We're dextro-amino based and we're obligate carnivores."

Falling silent again, he carefully tapes the edges of the sheet down, careful to make it parallel to the edge of the counter.

"Any other questions you want me to field while we're here?"

Still freaking weird that not everyone here knows what a Turian is considering he's lived here for all his life.

Probably.

Maybe.