pullmeapint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pullmeapint) wrote2015-02-25 07:42 pm
pullmeapint) wrote2015-02-25 07:42 pm
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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."
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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"And yeah, the usual please," Roosevelt added, turning to nod at Finn in thanks. "How have you been, busy day?"
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"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?"
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"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."
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"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."
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"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?"
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"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.
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"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."
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"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."
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"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."
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"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.
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"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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"I used to before I started the bar in earnest, now I just don't have time anymore," Finn told him, pointing to a top shelf and a few of his sparring and forms trophies. "Not many local competitions, unfortunately, and until I'm a little more settled and have a competent assistant manager, no way in hell I'm leaving the pub for a weekend to go kick someone's ass."
The loss wasn't a big thing for him, really. He helped out with some of the higher belts at the do jang and that was enough for him. The fact that he was starting to give real consideration to teaching classes was almost frightening in a way.
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Roosevelt could never understand how someone could just do something casually. It wasn't in his nature to do something like that, although he knew that he was probably unusual in that aspect. Still, he wouldn't harass anyone too much about what they chose to do with their hobbies.
"Were you good at it when you competed?" he asked, more casual now and curious about what Finn's life was like.
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"Modesty, who needs modesty?" Roosevelt laughed. Still, it was impressive that Finn was so good at it. It must have taken a lot of drive and practice to become that talented at such a difficult discipline. "You didn't even think though that you could go to the Olympics and then open a bar? The bar dream was that big?"
Either way, he admired that sort of focus and just going out and getting what it was that you wanted.