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The Devil’s Toboggan - Printable Version

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The Devil’s Toboggan - megs - 08-08-2015

<div style="text-align:justify;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]<span>    </span>"A few more drinks like these and I'm sure I'll be willing to tell you all about it." Perfectly capable of holding her liquor, did not mean that she was immune to the effects. Not close enough to her supernatural bloodline to be immune to substances. She didn't even get the benefit of a higher tolerance, and a woman her size did not have much in the way of body weight to cushion her consumption. But that was not to say that she was sloppy. She cocked her head and listened to the sounds of the bar, willing to accept the silence between them because it wasn't uncomfortable.  </span>[/align]
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[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]<span>    </span>Isabella allowed him to attend to other patrons without protest. Not at all the clinging type or unwilling to let someone do their job for casual flirting. Going for her phone was like a reflex. Thoughtlessly occupying unoccupied time. There was not anything on the device that was actually more interesting than her current arrangement. She watched him interact with the scattering of needy patrons, but she did well to pretend otherwise until Anton returned; mumbling all the while. Bella didn't let the fact that she had heard him show on her face, because something about that seemed rude.   </span>[/align]
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[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]<span>    </span>She snuffed out her second cigarette as he leaned towards her once more; locking her phone on impulse. Single brow arched as she watched his features come closer. She laughed quietly. "The nickname is not a privilege," she corrected, as if that at all changed the nature of his statement. "No one calls me Isabella, it sounds weird." She continued, plucking the drink in question from the bar. She took a sip. "You're correct however, I've been too generous with information." She looked away from him and to the drink in her hand. She lifted it slightly, like she was toasting him. "Second drink brings more mystery. "  </span>[/align]
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[/align]<div style="text-align:justify;]<span style="font-size:10pt;]<span>    </span>Another sip, if it could be called that. Pulls of the beverage were becoming longer and closer in between. "Why don't you tell me something about yourself, Anton?"  </span>[/align]

The Devil’s Toboggan - saronym - 08-10-2015

Anton’s phone was forgotten on the bar for the moment. It glowed brightly before dimming, and finally reverting to a black screen. “Have as many of those drinks as you like, but with each one just remember I’m beginning to suspect you’re 100% underage and showed me one of your sorority sister’s IDs. But hey, no judgments here. Besides, I’m hoping the more you drink the more you lose track of how obnoxious I am.”

Anton was the type of bartender who liked to maintain a steady buzz while at work. The last shot was fading, and he was noticing the subtle changes of sobriety that follows a buzz: fatigue, a bit of photophobia, hunger, and low blood sugar. He poured himself a double shot of Jack Daniels in an old fashioned glass over ice. Despite being a knowledgeable bartender with a plethora of choices, Anton rarely bothered with anything fancy or creative for himself. He would pick a liquor and brand for the night and stick with that. This habit was, of course, hypocritical given his critique of Isabella’s lack of creative drinking choices.

He eyed her as he raised the glass to his lips. He paused, the cup poised in the air before his mouth, “For what it’s worth, I prefer Isabella to Bella.” He sipped at the drink, more cautiously than Isabella at hers. He noted that she would likely require a refill soon at her rate. “Isn’t it a bit incongruent that you imply there’s nothing special about nickname privileges as if that were oh so casual, yet you ask me about myself as if we were becoming—what, friends, or something?” He raised his eyebrows as if he had just presented hard hitting evidence that she had made some foolhardy misstep in coy flirtation and he had exposed her. When really, neither were being exactly coy and his evidence was rather fragile. He sampled his drink again wondering if her dry cleaner had nickname privileges, though he decided not to bring it up lest the truth of that be used against his previous claims. “It seems your game is a bit inconsistent.”

Anton was well aware that he didn’t answer her question at all. He toasted her in return and downed at least half of his drink. The glass was returned to the bar with a clink, the remaining amber liquid sloshing around with the maneuver.“What would you even want to know about me?” He phrased that in a playfully self-deprecating way, as if to ask or suggest that it was out of order that a woman like her would be interested in the biography of a bartender of some dive.

He noticed that his sleeves had become asymmetrical at some point. The left one was unrolled a little bit. He directed his attention to clumsily remedy the profligate sleeve.

RE: The Devil’s Toboggan - megs - 09-12-2016

"I'm an adult," she insisted with heavy inflection. She resisted reaching for her ID again, with it's newly updated picture after her recent change of address. Bella opened her mouth to deny having been in a sorority, but closed it quickly, remembering that she wasn't supposed to be giving up information so freely. "You are pretty obnoxious," she teased and she glared at him playfully, behind another sip of whisky. She wanted another cigarette, the alcohol did that to her, but she also didn't want to appear hopelessly addicted.

One vice at time, she bargained with herself. Not that she should care what Anton... not that she should care what the bartender thought of her habits. She was being unusually generous with information, though they were facts she considered insignificant. She wasn't sure if it was the day she'd had or the setting of the bar, or the cute man serving her drinks that made her more talkative than she preferred. She decided not to question it, since it was unlikely that she would see him again. For him she could be just another pretty drunk girl, in a sea of pretty drunk girls he served daily.

"Then call me Isabella," she suggested with a shrug, an impish smile was pulling at one corner of her mouth, quickly becoming a permanent fixture on her red-painted lips. "Friends or something" she repeated, feigning the scandalized tone of an over-dramatic southern belle. Setting her empty glass back on the bar, she nudged it towards him with two fingers. "This is the first time father has allowed me out of doors," she continued, embellishing with an impressive drawl. "I've never spoken to a man before. There's no game sir, just curiosity."

She leaned one elbow on the bar and brought an index finger to tap thoughtfully on her bottom lip. What would she like to know, she mused to herself. They'd come this far in their flirtatious conversation, and she was entertained to there was no reason to turn back now. That aside, his deflection sounded like a challenge and she so hated losing. She hummed, amber gaze falling on him as he moved to create another drink.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked in an obvious way. A question he no doubt answered daily, but also elevated her position in the so-called game. And maybe, just maybe, she was genuinely a bit curious.

RE: The Devil’s Toboggan - saronym - 10-24-2016

“You better be. Or you put me at risk of losing my liquor license. And going to jail.” The threat in his voice was more jesting than anything. She didn’t look too young to be drinking in his bar. Besides his other business dealings were vastly more likely to land him in jail one way or another than potential alcohol sales to the under-aged. It always found a way to get him in trouble.

Anton finished straightening out his sleeves. Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he snagged the glass from the bar and turned away to make yet another drink for his new favorite patron. He stopped his work to laugh at her even turning his head to watch over his shoulder as she imitated a southern accent.

“See. I just knew you were jailbait.” He accused with a jeer. With the new drink in hand, he picked up the soaked napkin on the bar in front of her and replaced it with a dry one before setting the drink down. The soiled napkin was tossed away into the bin. "Luckily for you I'm a shady bartender at a shady bar. So enjoy your night off the farm. Daddy will never know."

He planted himself in front of her arms folded over his chest defensively when she asked about his relationship status. “Damn. Straight to the personal questions.” He tsked as if he hadn't done the same to her. Anton made a business out of knowing about others; he usually didn’t talk about himself. And that was mostly for his own safety. The less others knew about him the better. And yet here he was willing to give up some information about himself. If only for a pretty face in a tight skirt. He could work on that whole discipline thing some other time when a hottie from uptown wasn't batting eyelashes at him.

“I would feel way more guilty about flirting with my customers if I had a girlfriend. But I’m single so.” He shrugged his shoulders in an ‘oh well’ gesture. “Guilt free flirting for me, I suppose.” He didn't seem terribly enthused by this one up-side to being unattached to someone.

Anton, in fact, had not been in a relationship since the one that had resulted in his lycanthropy transmission, which he kept a secret. He didn’t know how to go about physical romantic relationships anymore. Was it something like herpes that kind of demanded a full disclosure first? He certainly wished he had been informed before taking the plunge. It would have spared him a lot of later heartache and complication in his life. Not being clear on the rules or whether his condition would be a turnoff, Anton just stuck with online dating over the past year to cure the loneliness and keep his distance while he navigated his new life.

RE: The Devil’s Toboggan - megs - 05-15-2017

“Isn’t that what you wanted me to ask?” Her question was challenging, as if to force him to admit their flirting game wasn’t completely one-sided. That his angle was for the chance at something more than just a good tip. He would have gotten it anyway, but this was a bartender’s game.

Bella leaned forward and propped her other elbow on the bar. She laced her fingers together and balanced her chin on the bridge of digits and fluttered her eyes at Anton again, because it seemed to be working for her. The wrap cut of her blouse that fell open a touch with her new position would probably help too. Lacy edgings of a black bra peeking over white chiffon. Her monochromatic appearance was an apparent theme. His posture changed to something a little more closed off. She hadn’t chosen her question to get that reaction from him, but she had chosen it deliberately. It was only fair after all.

She narrowed her eyes at him and there was a playful purse to her lips. “Guilty,” she mused, letting her elbows drop from the bar as she sat upright. She took another sip of her drink before lighting another cigarette. “You’d really feel that way? All bothered about being attached but appreciative of other people?”

It was suggestive to the idea that Bella did not feel that way at all. Which was accurate, because there were several men who were lucky enough to think they were attached to Bella, but here she was flirting it up with a dreamboat bartender.

“I don’t believe someone as hot as you doesn't have someone waiting for them somewhere.”