Beautiful Things.

He was behind the bar again, selling to underage teens as they listened to a quieter, more government friendly band. Agents were sitting at a booth, coming in for one of the “random” visits that ensured the club was at the standards set, and it took everything Nate had not to walk over and slug one of the men in the face. They were just sitting there as if they owned the place – which technically they did, since they could shut down the pub at any instance – and with those stupid fucking prim and proper faces twisted as if they bit into a lime at the boy band sound rocking from the stage.

The young man couldn’t help but smile as he thought of the art show that had been publicized quietly. He’d almost gone, if he’d not slept in, and he knew that little things like that would forever be a kick in the face to the society. Art was a normal part of this country, was it not? How could one man just expect that because he and a group of ridiculous parents found it inappropriate that every citizen would instantly agree? Of course they wouldn’t; the president could demolish all of the artistic jobs he wanted to, send ex-rockstars to bagging groceries at the local supermarket, but those people would always remember what they were talented at and loved for.

He wiped down the counter, ashamed he’d voted for this man. Seriously- President Markinson had sounded like a brilliant, innovative candidate, and he turned out to be the equivalent of Hitler to a right-brained individual. So, it was as much Nate’s fault as anyone else’s that the man ran the country. No one had seen this coming though, he had to remind himself. Nate tossed the rag under the counter, humming along to the song lightly as he tapped his fingers against the counter idly.

A regular approached the bar, giving him too much money and expecting a carton in return. He glanced at the officials, who were watching the band and booths, and quickly slipped the half-smashed cigarettes towards the purchaser. This was definitely a stupid idea – he would be fired for this if anyone mentioned it – but the customer smiled and bought her drink and practically pranced off to her friends.

Laughing, a pretty little thing half-stumbled to the bar, ordering two rums and cokes and rambling (flirting shamelessly) about how they were celebrating a win. Nate chuckled, appearing to pour the drinks and smiling at the girl as he offered to walk with her back to the table to ensure the drinks arrived safely.

“Hm, she found the bar?” An amused voice came from the corner of the table, flipping blonde hair away from her face quickly with a finger. This one appeared barely even buzzed, just perhaps a tiny touch tipsy; nothing a cup of coffee couldn’t sober up alongside a bit of talking to her friend, and perhaps Nate himself.

“Yeah. Congrats on the win, by the way. All she can talk about. M’Nate- need coffee?” Nate smiled at her with that sweet, dazzling expression that usually would get any girl getting all flustered.

She just sort of looked at him blankly as she nodded, allowing a smile to come to her own face a few seconds too late. Ouch. Ego down, ego down, Nate nodded a bit as he headed off to the bar again. Coffee had become a required thing to have – unless there was a DD or a cab that was to be picking up patrons, those who left pubs had to be at least moderately sober. Therefore, free coffee was provided by the government. It wasn’t any good, really, but with enough sugar it was bearable.

________________________________________-

It turned out that Ronnie was indeed an artist celebrating a ten grand win with her best friend tonight. His interest was piqued; a freelance artist? Borderline unheard of these days. It had grown increasingly rare to find a person who was strong enough to be constantly criticized for a “useless, tax-filled job” and still go through with what they saw in their mind. Ronnie certainly had the snarky, introverted personality that he saw many creative people had, but as she came down from her alcoholic buzz it seemed she was actually quite quiet. She’d definitely warmed up to him a bit.

On top of that, her choice in music was fantastic. She’d complained a little to him, though jokingly, about how he needed to get a better band in the room. He’d just laughed and promised that if she returned one day soon, there might just be a brilliant band coming through. “One of my favorites, in fact. The whole band is friends of mine; a really good group of people, ignoring how rash Ernie can be at times.” It had elicited a small laugh from her as she rolled her eyes, though she agreed that she would have to return to check them out one day.

Nate finally asked if she needed to head home soon after practically an hour of talking – her friend, Adele, had fallen into a half-slumber long ago – and Ronnie cursed and nodded. Explaining that she had a meeting with someone the next day and it would be a very, very terrible thing to be hung over or asleep when they came into her apartment, Ronnie slowly collected her friend and gave Nate a quick, light hug. He smiled at her, touching her shoulder semi-affectionately before she winked and headed off to the car they’d taken. She promised that they only lived just down the road, and not to worry about them getting home.

Still, nagging in the back of his mind was the slight worry that the girl wasn’t okay to drive home. But, he decided as he relieved Nicolas (who’d kindly taken over for him while he’d chatted) that he’d just try to check in with her again sometime- who knew when she’d win her next art show and decide to club?