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the pub

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Finn cleared the last of the dishes from the dinner rush and carted them into the kitchen for Tandy, laughing when she asked if he'd been demoted to busser.

That chore done, he headed back into the bar to do a walk around, checking with those in the game room and those at the tables and booths scattered around the bar area. He joked with a few of the regulars and greeted the faces he couldn't remember seeing before taking his position behind the bar again.

Leaning against the back counter, he surveyed his pub and couldn't help the smile that formed. For as much flak as he'd received from his family over his choosing such a small town when he finally struck out on his own, he really did love the town. The atmosphere was open, accepting, and the sheer fact that he could use his abilities without causing the National Enquirer to drop onto his head made it perfect.

He looked up when the door opened and called out a welcome to the newcomer.

"Welcome to the Pub."

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"Finn, my man, please tell me you have the Hawks game on tonight?" Roosevelt asked as he sat down at the bar. Roosevelt had been a Hawks fan all his life on account of the name thing. This was maybe the first time in his adult life they were actually good. Really, really good. Finn's was fast becoming his favorite place to watch the games. He liked the bar tender a lot and the atmosphere was great.

"And a drink on me to anyone who will cheer for them tonight."

Finn nodded and pointed to the TV above the bar. "Just switched it on knowing you'd be in for it, though I'd be careful saying that around this group. Half of them would cheer on their worst enemy for a free beer." Which he totally didn't mean, because he didn't cater to a lot of the power drinker type. There was a sign above his bar, very prominently, that said he had the right to refuse service. A right he used whenever the need arose.

"You want the usual?" he asked, looking towards the draft sticks.

"This is why this is my favorite bar," he said, attention riveted to the TV. It was important to have a bar where the bartender knew you and had the sporting events that you followed on when you went there.

"And yeah, the usual please," Roosevelt added, turning to nod at Finn in thanks. "How have you been, busy day?"

"It's been an interesting one. Somehow managed to get my bar set up as some sort of staging area for something called LARPing. A couple nights a week I'll be dressing in my Ren Faire outfit and hosting others in costume that are role playing something or other." Finn laughed and picked up his coffee cup, sipping from it. "You learn something new every day, right?"

He took another sip. "How about you? Anything catch on fire?"

"No, Finn no. Tell me you're joking. Please."

This was the worst news. This was a bar. This was a bar that he really liked. It was a place to get a beer and watch a game. It should not be a place for nerds to dress up and pretend they were wizards and worse. What if they came in on a game night?!

"And nothing major on fire. Mostly medical emergencies."

"Wish I could, man, but the deal's done," Finn laughed, holding his arms out to the side as he shrugged. "I guess I'm a sucker for nerdy redheads and the idea of a shit ton of women's in corsets flooding into my bar. Game or not, you've got to admit that's a better sight than five sweaty men running up and down a court." He pulled a bowl of pretzels from the far end of the bar to rest in front of Roosevelt. "Don't worry too much. It's just a couple of nights here and there over the summer, nothing that should get too much in the way."

"Lee," Roosevelt hissed through clenched teeth, eyes narrowing. It had to be her. How many nerdy redheads were there? Alright, probably a lot, but not a lot that would ruin his favorite bar. There was a possibility she had done it on purpose and he was going to make her pay for that.

"No, I don't have to admit that, because athleticism is a beautiful thing. You just let me know what nights those are so I can avoid the place," he added, taking a bite of a few pretzels. "Speaking of sweaty men running, you any interest in the triathlon they're doing this year?"

"Something tells me you know said ginger," Finn responded, not even bothering to hide his smirk. He couldn't help it. The disdain was practically dripping from Roosevelt's words. "Don't worry. As soon as I know, you'll know. And it won't get in the way of St. Patricks. Even if they have nerdfest planned that night, it won't be happening here. The Pub will be all green beer, all the time. And nary a corset in sight."

He poured a shot and sent it down the bar at a nod from a regular, then turned back to Roosevelt. "Nah, man. You've got the wrong guy for that one. Maybe Smith, the Tattoist? He runs pretty hardcore. I know he's run the New York City and the Boston Marathons. I'm more about martial arts and finding my Zen." He added the last with a big grin.

"Oh, I know her. She ruins everything," he said, taking a long drink of his beer. He was going to need another one if Lee was going to ruin his favorite bar. Well, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of getting too upset about it. Too drunk? Maybe. But not too upset. "At least St. Patrick's Day will still be sacred."

"And come on. You can try the Sprint. Triathlons are very Zen."

"St. Patrick's is always sacred here; don't worry. No matter what nerdy redheads have in mind." He sensed there was something in there, and wondered if the guy might not be protesting a little too much, but he kept his own council about that. Nothing set someone's back up more than bartender observances, especially unwelcome ones. Instead, he pulled another pint for him.

"Right. Zen. I think we have vastly different definitions of that word."

"Well that's good at least," Roosevelt said. Not that he was particularly Irish or anything but some things you just didn't mess with. St. Patrick's Day was one of those. It was a day for drinking and bonding. Not nerding.

"Come on. When are you more Zen than when you've almost exhausted yourself after being in the ocean and on a bike and then running? Mind, body, and spirit all engaged. That's Zen."

"To each his own Zen," Finn laughed, "but I do see your point. I usually feel pretty damned mellow after a good sparring session. I guess I just prefer the quiet of Tai Chi on the beach at sunset to get there, and not being so bloody exhausted my limbs turn to rubber. I will come cheer you on though? Does that count?"

He batted his eyes at Roosevelt comically, knowing that they both knew he was just teasing and strictly straight.

"I suppose you can be one of my groupies," Roosevelt said with a laugh. He usually had a few friends and family cheering on whatever group he was racing with cheering them on at the end. The more people they had there the more fun it was for everyone involved.

"Do you ever do any competing?" he asked. The idea of doing some sort of physical activity and not making a competition out of it was completely foreign to Roosevelt.

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Samantha pushed back from the bar, intent on the booth near the back that had just opened up, glad that she'd been able to enjoy a beer without being hassled by anyone like she would have been at a place with a more meat market bent to it. Now, though, with the place starting to clear out a bit, she'd decided to finish her beer in the quiet near the back.

That was, of course, until Her foot caught one of the bar stools and she pitched forward to rain half her beer on the bar right beside some poor guy.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!"

Roosevelt was completely engrossed in the game and didn't even notice the woman until she spilled her beer on the bar and half of it ended up in his lap. Jumping up from his stool Roosevelt gave a shout as he looked down at his partially soaked lap.

"Hey, watch out-" he started to say before he looked up and saw that a very attractive woman had spilled the beer. "You don't want to end up with any of this on you either. Are you okay?"

"Sorry!" Samantha said again when the man whipped around, clearly pissed off, and she was already grabbing up napkins from the bar and blotting at the wetness she could see on his jeans. "My foot caught the stool and gravity took over. Next time I'll just finish my drink at the bar and not worry about taking up space there."

She started digging in her purse for a card. "I should pay for you to get it cleaned, or if they're damaged beyond repair. Or anything."

It was not exactly how Levi preferred to get a woman's hand on his lap and he almost had to laugh at it. At least she was apologetic about it, he almost felt bad for her except that he was the one that had a lap full of beer.

"I'm pretty sure it will get cleaned when I throw them in the wash when I get home. Between the soap and the water and the electricity I'm pretty sure the cost will add up to about the cost of a beer."

Samantha paused, considered, then nodded as if she'd made a decision. "Then let me buy you a drink and I won't feel as guilty about the impromptu beer shower. Or I can just slink out of sight and we can forget this ever happened. Your choice."

She fully intended to pay for the beer the guy had in front of him no matter what he said, but whether or not he knew it was happening - that was the only question now.

"I will gladly let you alleviate your guilty conscience by buying me a beer and having a chat," Roosevelt said with a nod. If she wanted to leave after getting him a drink that was fine but why come to a bar if you didn't want to make friends? Alright, maybe to drink or eat in solitude but she could always decline if she wanted.

"You're so very kind," Samantha smirked and nodded at the bartender. "Shall we stay at the bar? Or find a booth?" She looked at the half-full glass in her hand and sighed. "No matter where we go, I probably shouldn't be carrying this. I'm afraid I'm armed and dangerous."

"Why don't we get a booth so Finn can wipe this up and I'll carry the beer for you," he said with a grin as he took the glass from her. She didn't seem too drunk to walk or anything but he wanted to be careful just in case. "That way you only have to pair for the cleaning of one pair of pants tonight?"

"Probably a good idea," Samantha smiled at him. "I think I've managed to get a new-shoe blister on my heel and it's making my feet misbehave when I walk. I was trying to not make the blister worse, caught the leg of your stool and...boom. Instant beer bath." Her mouth twisted into a half-smirk. "I really do feel bad about that..and I'm definitely going to get your jeans cleaned for you, or wash them, or whatever."

She took a seat in the booth, sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "I'm going to shut up now."

"It's fine, really. They're just going to go in the wash with the rest of my clothes, I don't think they're going to need special treatment. I'm just going to have to relax here until it dries and doesn't look like I had a drunken accident," he said with a grin, just so that she knew he wasn't all that upset.

"And for the blister you should try cello tape. It protects the area but lets you slip the shoe on and off easily."

"Thanks, I'll try that," she smiled. Then his comment about drunken accidents had Samantha's cheeks heating and an embarrassed giggle bubbling up from her throat, one she tried to cover with her fingers. "Oh, God. I didn't even think about that. Okay. So. My job is to now sit here with you until they're dry and...yeah. Again. Sorry..ah. Crap, I don't even know your name. I'm Samantha," she offered, extending her hand.

"If it takes too long I'm sure that Finn will let me duck out the back," he said with a chuckle at her shocked reaction before reaching out to shake her hand. It was an odd way to meet someone new but at least it was an attracive, nice woman and not some gorilla looking, asshole guy. Roosevelt had enough gorilla looking guy friends.

"Nice to meet you, Samantha. I'm Roosevelt."