Status: Progressing (slowly, but still)
Blood, Sex, and Cocktails
3 - Smurf's Piss and Sex on My Face
After another hour or two of catching up, Jasmine and I both went to bed. I slept in the guest bedroom, which used to be her cousin's when the house belonged to her uncle/guardian.
I woke up feeling -...well, actually not feeling, which made it a typical day, which would probably mean I would be feeling fine if I were normal. I got out of bed, got dressed in a pair of clothes borrowed from Jasmine, did my usual morning prep, and downed a piece of toast and half of a thermos of coffee on the drive to work.
I'd been working for a few hours now, and I still couldn't stop thinking about Eric. What was so special about him? Why did he let me feel? Why didn't he project onto me?
I groaned as the bell above the shop door rang, anticipating the same-old, yet no feelings hit me. I finally glanced up at the person who had entered. He was a man, probably in his early-to-mid thirties, with short, dark red-ish hair and pale skin - pale enough to almost look like he shouldn’t be out before dusk, almost. He probably wasn't any taller than me or much heavier. He was looking all around the shop in an odd sort of way.
"How may I help you," I asked in a bored sort of drawl..
"Oh," he said, seeming to have not noticed me before. "Oh, yes, are you um..." he checked a small piece of paper in his left hand. "Destiny?"
"Depends who wants me," I mumbled. He obviously didn't get the intended humor and just tilted his head in that confused/inquisitive way you never really expect to see someone do in everyday life. "Yes, I am she."
"Okay. Well, um, I been sent to get 'whatever it take to stock the bar' and I'm told to 'consult my Destiny,'" he said. He was reading from the paper again so whoever sent him must have written 'my,' but as far as I knew I didn't belong to anyone.
I got right to the point by asking, "Who sent you?"
"Oh, well, Master Eric. My name is James, and I'm one of his, uh, day-guys?" That explained it; this guy had been glamoured a time or two too many and Eric Northman was a jackass with an old-old-old-school sense of wordplay humor.
See one of the reasons I don't like people to call me Destiny? My whole family is polluted with those names; cousins Chastity, Pride, Hope, Faith, Joy, and Honor and my sisters Liberty, Fidelity, Harmony, and Serenity, and even more than those! We were all virtues, ideals, or forces. Chaz, Fay, Libby, Fida, Sere, and I were the only ones of those listed who could really go by a nickname derived from our own ridiculous titles, so the others had to resort to middle names or come up with something and hope it catches on.
"Come on, Jimbo," I insisted, leading the guy into storage.
Whenever I got to Fangtasia Monday night, greeted by Eric and told what I'd be doing, I was genuinely excited. I couldn't even tell you why; I had no idea.
Everything was as expected. Fangbangers were getting drunk off their asses on anything they could think of. Many even told me they were really just thinking of either the most ridiculous things they could, like Smurf Piss and Dressed Up Like a Dog's Dinner, or the most sexual they could, like Sex On My Face and Screaming Multiple Orgasm On The Beach. Vampires were ordering True Bloods - don't tell my boss, but I had one or two mixed with Gin myself - and some even stayed at the bar and made small talk ... not many, mind you, but a handful.
"Evening," I greeted Eric when he came out from his office and approached me at the bar. "Something I can help you with, boss?" Yeah, I was teasing him just a bit.
"A bottle of AB," he said with a smirk, "if you please."
I got his drink and was back in a moment "I live to please," I replied as I set the bottle before him on top of a custom Fangtasia cocktail napkin.
"A trait I hold at great value," he commented. I didn't care to know if he meant in employees or something else. "How has your first night as bartender been?"
I was a bit shocked that he asked. "I look like a Paris streetwalker, I just had to cut Emilie off after 5 Screaming Orgasms, and I agreed to take her home after I get off," I said. "But, honestly? I kind of love it." I couldn't help grinning.
"I've seen Paris streetwalkers and you, my Destiny, do not look like one," He replied. "That is the exact uniform of the waitresses at a Czech bar in which I spent much of August 1998."
"That was before Synth. Blood and the Great Revelation," I pointed out. "What could a tall, blonde corpse like you do in a human bar?"
"I simply admired the atmosphere," He explained. "But, I could have done what any mortal customers did. You really should learn more about us if you intend to continue working at a Vampire bar."
I glanced down the bar and saw no customers. "I'm not busy," I said. "Enlighten me."
"There exists a very widely-believed, major misconception even so long after we have revealed ourselves," he said. "Many are under the impression that Vampires cannot eat or drink 'human' foods or drinks. Not true."
"Do tell," I urged teasingly, but sincerely interested.
"Newly-turned Vampires' bodies reject such things, often violently. But, most overcome that within the first year or two - sometimes within the first few weeks. Personally, I like to enjoy a plate of Veal Parmesan from time to time."
"Who doesn't? So, if you're capable of drinking other things, why haven't I had any Vampires order anything but blood?"
"I haven't a clue in the world," he replied. "But, I'd be glad to be your first. Fox Poison."
"Really," I asked, fighting the urge to laugh. "Sorry. Just didn't really expect that order."
"And why not?"
"Fox Poison is kid stuff," I said with a smirk. "That is the sort of drink teenagers sneak without their parents ever noticing. A full glass couldn't get a mosquito drunk."
He just shot me a look I could only describe as a 'what the h*ll are you talking about' look.
"Bad metaphor," I agreed. "But, you know what I mean. Yeah, I guess Fox Poison is almost too-much-to-handle for an old man like you."
'Yes, Dezzy, provoke and insult your Vampire boss - brilliant!'
"I will not have a little girl telling me what I can and cannot handle," he growled, balling his hands into fists as his fangs extended, but remaining otherwise calm.
"I am not," I growled through my gritted teeth, getting within an inch of his face, "a little girl. I am an upstanding, respectable young woman," I said as a smirk spread across my lips, "who can almost certainly drink you under the table, sir."
"Is that right?"
"Right it is, and I'd be glad to prove it."
He simply replied, "When, where, and how?"
"Tomorrow night, here, and a Rocky-Balboa combo," I answered with a devious grin. "Ever heard of it?"
"No." With a smirk he asked," 'A'? Meaning only one?"
" 'Only one' is more than you will be able to handle. But we'll drink until someone calls 'uncle'."
"More than I can handle? Care to place a wager on that?"
"Well," I said, "I think I'll be perfectly content with knowing that I beat you at something - of course, I will beat you. But, I wouldn't object to an alternate uniform."
"And what would I gain if I were to win? The satisfaction of knowing I can handle alcohol better than an 'upstanding, respectable young woman'? That holds no value for me."
I was scared to ask, but I did. "What were you thinking?"
"I'll name my prize when I win."
"I look forward to never hearing it." I handed him his Fox Poison and he retreated to his office.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and by last call Eric Northman was still the only Vampire who had strayed from TrueBlood, and I was the only non-Vamp to down a few. 'Sissies'
Before I knew it I was at home, in bed, asleep.
I woke up feeling -...well, actually not feeling, which made it a typical day, which would probably mean I would be feeling fine if I were normal. I got out of bed, got dressed in a pair of clothes borrowed from Jasmine, did my usual morning prep, and downed a piece of toast and half of a thermos of coffee on the drive to work.
I'd been working for a few hours now, and I still couldn't stop thinking about Eric. What was so special about him? Why did he let me feel? Why didn't he project onto me?
I groaned as the bell above the shop door rang, anticipating the same-old, yet no feelings hit me. I finally glanced up at the person who had entered. He was a man, probably in his early-to-mid thirties, with short, dark red-ish hair and pale skin - pale enough to almost look like he shouldn’t be out before dusk, almost. He probably wasn't any taller than me or much heavier. He was looking all around the shop in an odd sort of way.
"How may I help you," I asked in a bored sort of drawl..
"Oh," he said, seeming to have not noticed me before. "Oh, yes, are you um..." he checked a small piece of paper in his left hand. "Destiny?"
"Depends who wants me," I mumbled. He obviously didn't get the intended humor and just tilted his head in that confused/inquisitive way you never really expect to see someone do in everyday life. "Yes, I am she."
"Okay. Well, um, I been sent to get 'whatever it take to stock the bar' and I'm told to 'consult my Destiny,'" he said. He was reading from the paper again so whoever sent him must have written 'my,' but as far as I knew I didn't belong to anyone.
I got right to the point by asking, "Who sent you?"
"Oh, well, Master Eric. My name is James, and I'm one of his, uh, day-guys?" That explained it; this guy had been glamoured a time or two too many and Eric Northman was a jackass with an old-old-old-school sense of wordplay humor.
See one of the reasons I don't like people to call me Destiny? My whole family is polluted with those names; cousins Chastity, Pride, Hope, Faith, Joy, and Honor and my sisters Liberty, Fidelity, Harmony, and Serenity, and even more than those! We were all virtues, ideals, or forces. Chaz, Fay, Libby, Fida, Sere, and I were the only ones of those listed who could really go by a nickname derived from our own ridiculous titles, so the others had to resort to middle names or come up with something and hope it catches on.
"Come on, Jimbo," I insisted, leading the guy into storage.
Whenever I got to Fangtasia Monday night, greeted by Eric and told what I'd be doing, I was genuinely excited. I couldn't even tell you why; I had no idea.
Everything was as expected. Fangbangers were getting drunk off their asses on anything they could think of. Many even told me they were really just thinking of either the most ridiculous things they could, like Smurf Piss and Dressed Up Like a Dog's Dinner, or the most sexual they could, like Sex On My Face and Screaming Multiple Orgasm On The Beach. Vampires were ordering True Bloods - don't tell my boss, but I had one or two mixed with Gin myself - and some even stayed at the bar and made small talk ... not many, mind you, but a handful.
"Evening," I greeted Eric when he came out from his office and approached me at the bar. "Something I can help you with, boss?" Yeah, I was teasing him just a bit.
"A bottle of AB," he said with a smirk, "if you please."
I got his drink and was back in a moment "I live to please," I replied as I set the bottle before him on top of a custom Fangtasia cocktail napkin.
"A trait I hold at great value," he commented. I didn't care to know if he meant in employees or something else. "How has your first night as bartender been?"
I was a bit shocked that he asked. "I look like a Paris streetwalker, I just had to cut Emilie off after 5 Screaming Orgasms, and I agreed to take her home after I get off," I said. "But, honestly? I kind of love it." I couldn't help grinning.
"I've seen Paris streetwalkers and you, my Destiny, do not look like one," He replied. "That is the exact uniform of the waitresses at a Czech bar in which I spent much of August 1998."
"That was before Synth. Blood and the Great Revelation," I pointed out. "What could a tall, blonde corpse like you do in a human bar?"
"I simply admired the atmosphere," He explained. "But, I could have done what any mortal customers did. You really should learn more about us if you intend to continue working at a Vampire bar."
I glanced down the bar and saw no customers. "I'm not busy," I said. "Enlighten me."
"There exists a very widely-believed, major misconception even so long after we have revealed ourselves," he said. "Many are under the impression that Vampires cannot eat or drink 'human' foods or drinks. Not true."
"Do tell," I urged teasingly, but sincerely interested.
"Newly-turned Vampires' bodies reject such things, often violently. But, most overcome that within the first year or two - sometimes within the first few weeks. Personally, I like to enjoy a plate of Veal Parmesan from time to time."
"Who doesn't? So, if you're capable of drinking other things, why haven't I had any Vampires order anything but blood?"
"I haven't a clue in the world," he replied. "But, I'd be glad to be your first. Fox Poison."
"Really," I asked, fighting the urge to laugh. "Sorry. Just didn't really expect that order."
"And why not?"
"Fox Poison is kid stuff," I said with a smirk. "That is the sort of drink teenagers sneak without their parents ever noticing. A full glass couldn't get a mosquito drunk."
He just shot me a look I could only describe as a 'what the h*ll are you talking about' look.
"Bad metaphor," I agreed. "But, you know what I mean. Yeah, I guess Fox Poison is almost too-much-to-handle for an old man like you."
'Yes, Dezzy, provoke and insult your Vampire boss - brilliant!'
"I will not have a little girl telling me what I can and cannot handle," he growled, balling his hands into fists as his fangs extended, but remaining otherwise calm.
"I am not," I growled through my gritted teeth, getting within an inch of his face, "a little girl. I am an upstanding, respectable young woman," I said as a smirk spread across my lips, "who can almost certainly drink you under the table, sir."
"Is that right?"
"Right it is, and I'd be glad to prove it."
He simply replied, "When, where, and how?"
"Tomorrow night, here, and a Rocky-Balboa combo," I answered with a devious grin. "Ever heard of it?"
"No." With a smirk he asked," 'A'? Meaning only one?"
" 'Only one' is more than you will be able to handle. But we'll drink until someone calls 'uncle'."
"More than I can handle? Care to place a wager on that?"
"Well," I said, "I think I'll be perfectly content with knowing that I beat you at something - of course, I will beat you. But, I wouldn't object to an alternate uniform."
"And what would I gain if I were to win? The satisfaction of knowing I can handle alcohol better than an 'upstanding, respectable young woman'? That holds no value for me."
I was scared to ask, but I did. "What were you thinking?"
"I'll name my prize when I win."
"I look forward to never hearing it." I handed him his Fox Poison and he retreated to his office.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and by last call Eric Northman was still the only Vampire who had strayed from TrueBlood, and I was the only non-Vamp to down a few. 'Sissies'
Before I knew it I was at home, in bed, asleep.