The Frog's Toe Tavern

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Spectre of the Fade, Aug 6, 2015.

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  1. The Frog's Toe Tavern
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    It wasn't a really large bar. A little old-timey for Vegas, if one was to be honest. Wood floors, low lighting, lots of red in the design scheme, bowls of peanuts dotting the bar and tables, and a hearty reassurance from the bartender that one could drop the shells on the floor. The jukebox in the corner that was almost always playing some form of rock was less old-timey, and the same went for the pool table laid out in a slightly lower area than the rest of the bar, but neither affected the medieval feel of the place. As it was a place created to serve and sate the appetites of various non-humans, the medieval atmosphere was quite intentional.
    The proprietor of the place, a wizard named Jensen, is quite adamant about keeping The Frog's Toe Tavern neutral in any and all conflicts that may occur between different factions or races, and fighting will not be tolerated.

    The Starter
    Faceclaim (open)
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    Jensen's faceclaim is the lovely Misha Collins.

    It had been...a really fucking boring afternoon, really. Afternoons usually weren't particularly busy, but this one was extra-super-specially dead. And to make boring matters worse, not a single person had so much as asked about the job offer he'd taped to the window. "Seeking assistant witch able to or willing to learn to brew cocktails, mixed drinks, and other beverages. Inquire within" the paper read. He thought it was pretty clever. But then, he thought he was pretty clever most of the time. It probably should've gone in the newspaper, but that would draw the attention of more normal people than would be recommended, given the nature of the bar. Creatures killing humans because he just had to hire a replacement for his usual assistant bartender as fast as possible would not end well for anyone involved. So, shitty little note on the window it had to be.
    Letting out an over-dramatic sigh even though there was no one around to hear him, Jensen hopped over the bar with all the grace of someone who did that at least three times a day and walked over to the jukebox to queue up some Metallica. It matched the faded black Metallica tee he was wearing as well as his mood. Perfect.
    After that was done, he gave a meaningful look at the big green felt billiards table. He did love pool, but he was working. It would be unprofessional. But then, it wasn't like anyone was going to come in, right? Ah, screw it. He quickly set up a game and got to playing, the crack and clatter of balls colliding or sinking into a pocket and the happy whistling of the place's proprietor soon filling the air.
    #1 Spectre of the Fade, Aug 6, 2015
    Last edited by a moderator: Mar 16, 2016
  2. Auguste sighed, then ran a hand through his hair. Today was...rather uneventful. He had been walking all over the city in search of a job, since he had quit his last. He had been a barista, and he really did love that job, but the only thing bad about it was his boss. The man was cruel and cold, harsh and bitter, and, Auguste being the complete opposite, the two tended to clash often, resulting in loud arguments or suspensions from work. Until finally...Auguste had enough, and he finally quit the job just a week ago. Now he was sitting on a bench, waiting for a bus to take him home. Maybe he'd try again tomorrow. He began tapping his toe to a beat he hummed, but after a few minutes, he spotted something across the street, and his toe slowly stopped its rhythmic movements. He slowly leaned forward, lifting his sunglasses up a bit. "...The Frog's Toe Tavern...?" He said to himself. He noticed there was a piece of paper stuck to the window, but he couldn't quite read the words. So after standing up and looking both ways, he hurried across the street, then approached the window. "...Seeking assistant witch able to or willing to learn to brew cocktails, mixed drinks, and other beverages. Inquire within..." He read out loud, though his voice was quiet. Hm...He bit his lip, looking up at the sign. He looked at his arms, then at the area of his chest that was exposed by his low-cut tank top. What if they had a rule against tattoos? He chuckled. It's a bar. After a few moments of re-reading the sign, he finally pulled the door open. And the first thing he was hit with was Metallica. Hm. Not bad. He heard a clacking sound, but didn't see anyone. At least..not yet. "...Oi! Anybody here?" He called. He approached the bar and tapped his knuckles on it, continuing to look around. The place was rather old-timey...especially for Vegas. But Gus didn't mind. In fact, he thought it was cool. Unique. Somewhere he most likely wouldn't mind working.
  3. "Of course someone comes in as soon as I start slacking off," Jensen remarked with a sigh, making sure to speak loud enough that the potential patron could hear him. He wasn't the sort to really do quiet, regardless of situation. He slid the pool stick back into its slot on the rack but left the balls scattered across the table where they were. Maybe he could come back to the game, after all.

    He knew immediately upon seeing Auguste that he was no customer. Guy looked what, nineteen? Definitely ordinary human. Pretty, though, Jensen would give him that. Walking over to the bar, he hopped over it once again and turned to lean against its smooth surface. "I'll go ahead and leap to the conclusion you're not here for drinks," he remarked with a tilt of his head and the raise of one dark eyebrow. "Dare I hope you're looking to fill the 'assistant witch' position?"
  4. Auguste immediately flicked his attention over to where he heard a man speak, then offered a small smile. He looked back as he carefully sat himself on one of the stools at the bar, then looked back over to the man, watching as he hopped over the bar rather skillfully, then leaned against it. This time, when he smiled, it was bright and friendly, with just a pinch of charm. He raised his hand and pushed his sunglasses up until they rested atop his head, revealing his soft brown eyes, which practically smiled along with his mouth. "Well, I'm not exactly 'of age' to drink, so your conclusion is correct. for the position...I am looking to fill it. Though..." He looked down at his tattoos, then back up at the man, raising his eyebrows. "...I hope you don't mind my tattoos."
  5. That was an awfully interesting thing to be concerned about, Jensen noted, but he was going to speak his piece before commenting. "Look," he began, leaning forward a little, expression some odd combination of serious and amused, "As long as you can poor a good drink, avoid smart mouthing my customers, and keep any complaints about my music selection to yourself, we'll be golden." He finished the sentence with a bright smile, offering his hand for a shake. "My name is Jensen. Jensen like the car company, not the actor, my dad had sort of a thing. I own the place, clean the place, stock the place, and cook the food. You'll mostly handle getting everyone drinks while I'm cooking. If you want the job, that is."
  6. Auguste listened carefully, chuckling after Jensen finished talking. He seemed like someone Gus could get along with. He took his hand and shook it, the smile never leaving his face. "I'm Auguste. And, yes, like the month, though my oldies decided to put a little spice on it and add an 'e' at the end. But you can just call me Gus. Most everyone does. And you don't have to worry about me 'smart mouthing' your customers...I'm not exactly one for sarcasm, though it does make an occasional appearance." He let his smile fade a bit, then gently retracted his hand. He stood from the stool and walked over to the jukebox, leaning over to look inside at the selections. "...Also, you seem to have a fairly nice taste in least one I can agree with." He turned back to Jensen, then folded his arms. "...But if you don't mind, you might have to teach me a few things about pouring and mixing drinks. I'm not...too experienced in that department." He walked back over to the bar and leaned on it, reaching up to pull his sunglasses off and set them down in front of him.
  7. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Gus, and that's definitely no problem," Jensen responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Give me something to do during the slow parts of the day. I usually open around two in the afternoon and close sometime around four in the morning, but I don't expect you to stay that long. We'll see how you do after five days, call that a test run or whatever, and--" A loud clatter interrupted his speech, coming from the area of the pool table, followed by a startled meow and more clattering.

    Jensen let out the long suffering sigh of a cat owner used to their pet's messy shenanigans. "That would be Merlin, the resident bar cat. Pretty friendly, but there's no point in trying to keep him off the pool table or the bar. Don't even bother trying. Just work around him." He gave Auguste a serious look, eyebrows raising. "I'm not kidding. That cat could out-stubborn a rock and he scratches."
  8. Auguste immediately shifted his attention to the source of the clatter, but once he caught sight of a feline, his mouth turned up into a smile. Gus absolutely adored animals. He chuckled at what Jensen said, though he kept his gaze on the cat. "Merlin? Like the ancient wizard? That's a unique name...." He said almost absent-mindedly, then wandered over to the pool table. He leaned down a bit to look at the cat, his hands resting on his knees. "Are you a troublesome little bugger? If and you might get along just fine." He said quietly to the cat, his voice almost cooing. He gently reached his hand out to run it along from the cat's head down to the middle of his back, smiling as he did. He glanced over at Jensen, then looked back at Merlin. "...How long have you had him?" He asked, his voice hopefully loud enough for Jensen to have heard him.
  9. Merlin turned out to be an ashy gray tabby, big both in size and because he was chubby. He was currently draping himself across the pool table, knocking the balls around, but he let out a pleased purr and leaned into Auguste's hand when he was stroked. A cat that was quick to pursue affection, he leaped off the table and began rubbing against Auguste's legs, more contented purring coming from his chest.

    "Yeah, Merlin like the wizard," Jensen affirmed, a little surprised the other man was familiar with the legend of King Arthur. He was quick to join the pair at the pool table, leaning against that like he'd leaned against the bar. "Years. Definitely years. Fiveish, I think, and he was just a little scrap of fur when I got him." With a chuckle as he observed his cat's affectionate behavior, Jensen added, "Now you've done it, by the way. I wish you luck on the quest to get him to leave you alone."
  10. Gus giggled as Merling began rubbing itself against his legs, and he leaned down to pick him up. He stood straight again, cradling the cat like a baby as he gently scratched his head. He looked over at Jensen, a naturally nurturing twinkle in his eyes, then looked back down at Merlin. "He's adorable...I'm not sure I'll want him to." He said with a chuckle. "You're my little mate now, hm? Maybe you can help me pour drinks." He joked, speaking to the grey tabby. Auguste had always been one to attach himself to animals, whether it be something as cold and malicious as a vulture, or as cute and cuddly as a rabbit. He just loved animals. And it didn't hurt that he was very good with them...not to mention children. But that was a story for another day. "So...When would you like me to start?" He asked, turning his attention back to the other male.
  11. Merlin happily accepted the head scratches, purring louder and kneading Auguste's shirt in response to receiving active attention. He was quite the loud little fluffball, quite quickly covering Auguste in gray hair.

    Jensen had to roll his eyes at the disgustingly cute scene before him. Not even here five minutes and he'd already seduced the cat. Or maybe Merlin had seduced him. Well, either way. "Today, if possible?" he responded to the question, expression becoming hopeful. he'd need some form of help by Friday, as Fridays tended to be busiest, and he was most definitely not going grovelling back to Ashley. He would definitely blame Game of Thrones for him not utilizing the two week notice she'd given, but the idea was still too embarrassing to even be considered. "That'd give you a couple of days to get used to working in a bar and my...odd clientele, before we start getting into the weekend. Which is when the real fun - and the crazy people - happens."
  12. Auguste giggled at Merlin's kneading, though he made a small noise of pain when he felt a claw dig into his skin a bit. "Oi...You're going to turn me into a pin cushion." He said, giggling a bit. He looked down at himself after a few moments, raising an eyebrow at the hair that was all over him. "Oops...I'll have to explain that to my Nala when I get home." He said, then scratched Merlin's head a few more times and set him back down on the pool table.

    Auguste smiled at the cat, then turned his attention back to Jensen. "Today, eh? Sounds good to me...Do you want me to start right now?" He looked down at himself, noting the fact that he was wearing black jeans and a tank top, then looked back up at his new co-worker. "Don't I need a uniform...of sorts?" He asked as he turned and walked back towards the bar counter, snatching his sunglasses from where he left them.
  13. "Does it look like I'm wearing a uniform?" Jensen asked with an amused snort at the question. Uniforms. Hah. Like he'd be able to tolerate wearing the same thing every work day. He followed Auguste back into the main room, hopping up onto the bar and sitting on it instead of going over it. "Coming to work naked is unadvised, but as long as you stick to the three rules, you can go nuts. With anything. I will warn you, Merlin likes to play with flashing lights, so do with that information what you will." Ah, the side effects of using illusion magic to play with one's cat. "By the way, exactly how Australian are you? Is there, like, a scale for exactly how Australian Australians are?" he asked after a second, then his brows furrowed down as something occurred to him. "Oh, wait. Or are you a Kiwi? You're definitely not American, that is for fuckin' sure."
  14. Auguste's eyebrows raised at Jensen's questions. How Australian was he? He chuckled and leaned against the bar. "What the bloody hell kind of question is that, mate? How Australian am I?" Gus chuckled again and shook his head. "If there is a scale, I know nothing about that. All I know is I was born and raised in Melbourne, Australia. Moved here four years ago to live with my grandparents, wanted to see what America was like." He looked around the bar, as if observing all of America. "It's...not bad. At least, not so far. Everything seems fairly normal. Although the tucker is a bit strange, but not completely different..." He looked back at Jensen and flashed him another bright smile.

    Auguste rounded the bar and started looking at all the different drinks, not quite sure what he'd do with them. "I sure hope you don't get too many fruit loops in here...I may seem like a friendly guy..." He stood straight up and looked into Jensen's eyes. "...and I am, but I will not deal with any bounces." Once realizing that Jensen probably didn't understand Australian slang, he cleared his throat. "Bullies. I'm not exactly one to just sit and watch, no. I will handle people for myself...even if it costs me my job." He said. His face was completely serious now, which was a very strange difference from his usual smiley, friendly, and soft expression.
  15. Oh. Oh, that was just lovely. Absolutely lovely. A human with no idea of what he was facing trying to take on a particularly dickish vampire or werewolf or Fae or literally anything that regularly visited his bar. Yeah, that was going to end really well. Fuck. He definitely could not give away the existence of the supernatural to a human who'd walked in less than ten minutes before, obviously, that would be idiocy, so. How was he going to get Auguste to not fight asshole customers without giving the actual reason?

    "Look," Jensen began, shifting a bit and folding his hands in his lap, giving Auguste an equally serious look. "A lot of the customers in my bar aren't your average sad drunks, alright? I'm not talking biker guys or cocky people who'd fight their own reflection. I'm talking actually, genuinely dangerous people. Dealing with disturbances without ending up making hospital trips takes a kind of tact that can't really be learned." That kind of tact could also be called 'plenteous amounts of magic'. There was as much superstition about magic-users among the rest of the supernatural as there was among humans, and they were about the same level of accurate. "I'm not asking you to put up with dicks, alright? I'm asking you to let me handle it. Okay?"
  16. Auguste raised his hands defensively. "Alright, alright. Fine. I'll....let you handle it." He said, a small smile on his face. He may have said that he'd let Jensen handle the assholes that might come into a bar and cause a disturbance, but Gus wasn't planning on letting him handle everything. If Jensen happened to be near if anything happened, then yes, Gus would get his attention. But...if he was far enough away...there would be no doubt that Gus would handle it himself. It was just who he was.

    "Okay...okay, so mixing drinks. Or even pouring them. How do I do it?" He asked, leaning against the counter as he looked at Jensen. Gus was...sort of a quick learner...but that was when it came to things like construction or mechanics. But Gus could have gentle hands. Some might even say 'magic'. He began looking around at the bottles of liquor around him, a few sparking his interest. He waltzed over to one bottle with a brown liquid inside. He gently picked it up and looked at it, smiling brightly. "Is this bourbon? I've heard so much about it...Mind if I have a taste?" He asked, hoping Jensen would say yes. So what he was nineteen? He wasn't asking to get drunk.
  17. "Right. Yes. You are a bartending newb and require instruction." Jensen nodded and shifted, turning so he could drop off of his seat on the surface of the bar and down to the floor behind it. He grinned at Auguste, although his eyebrows raised when the other man picked up the bottle of bourbon. "That is ineed bourbon, but if you think you are going to be drinking it straight from the bottle, you are sorely mistaken, my young friend." Bending down to collect a pair of shot glasses from under the bar, he set them up on the table and filled each with a tiny sip of the liquor. "Don't go around telling your friends I'm letting you drink. Or your parents. Or your grandparents. If I wake up in the middle of the night violently murdered and/or surrounded by teenagers looking for booze, I am blaming your ass. And then haunting you. Definitely haunting you."

    With that speech, he offered Auguste one of the shot glasses and kept the other for himself. "You aren't going to be drinking much more than this, you know. Just to be clear. Since you're a lightweight and working."
  18. Auguste laughed at what Jensen said, then grabbed the shot glass. "Don't worry, mate. I don't think you'll 'wake up violently murdered.'" He said as he winked at Jensen, laughter still bubbling in his throat. "And anyway, you give me no credit. I'm not some sell-out. I'm not even going to tell my grandparents that I'm even working in a bar. They'd kill me." He said, then downed the shot, though, slowly, just in case.

    His eyes went a bit wide as he set the shot glass down. "Whoa...It's...sweet. And...kind of...what's the word...?" Auguste stared into space for a few moments, the thumb on his right hand sweeping across his finger nails. "Ah! Smokey. That's the word I was lookin' for. It also tastes a little bit like oak, as well. Strange....but surprisingly good." He said. He was mostly talking to himself, but he did flash another smile over at Jensen. "Okay, okay...enough distractions, yeah?" He said, sliding his shot glass over to his co-worker as he looked around the bar. The place was so quiet...Would it always be like this? I'll ask that later...I need to learn how to actually do my job.
  19. "What even are you?" Jensen asked in wonder after listening to Auguste describe the taste of the bourbon. "Some sort of magical booze connoisseur?" He even made a great big twirly hand gesture to go along with 'magical'. Joking, of course. Definitely joking. Magic had nothing to do with one's sense of taste. Not that this kid was magical. There was always the possibility, humans that possessed minor magical ability were surprisingly common, but he couldn't work actual spells or Jensen would have been able to feel it when they shook hands. "Ugh, don't even bother answering. I don't wanna know why a kid that just walked in is better than me at tasting my merchandise," he added after a few seconds with a dismissive wave of his hand before downing the bit of alcohol he'd poured himself.

    "Right. Training. Because it's going to be busy tonight and it would be nice if you were at least a little helpful." With that and a deep sigh, Jensen got to teaching. He showed Auguste the proper way to pour a shot and general drinks, the differences between alcohols and what goes in what glass, top shelf versus bottom shelf liquor, some simple mixed drinks and other things that could be helpful. He wasn't the most patient of teachers, but he did answer any questions as thoroughly as he could.

    People began trickling in a couple of hours later, so Jensen patted Auguste's shoulder and smiled at him before saying, "If you don't know what it is the customer is ordering, call me over and let me deal with it. Try not to piss off drunk people, keep your tips, and try not to have too much fun." Then he walked off to greet the customers, a charming smile on his face.
  20. Auguste felt like he had the basics down, he just hoped nobody asked for anything too complicated. He didn't want to feel like a child who needed to ask for help. But, of course, he would take Jensen's advice and flag him down if he did need help.

    Once people started flowing in, it seemed that Auguste's signature bright smile never left his face. He got a few comments on his tattoos, as well as his accent, to which he responded politely. He couldn't help but notice that one female in particular kept glancing in his direction, and whenever he made eye contact with her, she'd wink or wiggle her fingers in a small wave. Now, although Gus didn't exactly swing for that team, he felt a strange pull towards her. She was...rather enticing, charming. After serving drinks to three fairly large men, he ambled over to her, then leaned on the counter in front of her.

    "What can I get you, sweetheart?" He asked, sweeping his eyes over her face. Am I....Am I flirting with her? Why am I doing that? He didn't want to mislead her, he'd actually planned on telling her he was gay.

    "Hmmm....How about a strawberry martini? With just a dash of that sexy accent, and a small taste of those smiling lips you have there..." She said. Her eyes were a strange brown...almost red...She stared into Auguste's eyes, and for a moment, he could have sworn he saw a flash of gold in her eyes. He nodded, then made her drink and slowly slid it to her across the counter as he leaned onto it again. But this time, he felt her fingers on his face, and suddenly her lips were pressed against his, but for some reason, he couldn't seem to pull away.

    He thought he heard her hiss as he felt something poke his bottom very sharp teeth, one could say fangs. But he couldn't think about that, his mind seemed to be going blank, and he soon raised his hands to cup her face, kissing her back. What the bloody hell am I doing!? I don't even like women! I could get fired for this! Why can't I pull away!? He made a small noise, as if he were telling her to stop, but...she just kept going...He felt the fingers of her other hand grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him towards her with surprising strength. He grunted, his waist hitting the bar and now he couldn't even seem to open his eyes or move his hands. He felt like a statue...
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