Bar Room!
Who: Jack and Cheryl and Open
When: Morning
Where: Bar Room
Jack had pulled the morning shift for this whole "meet and greet" thing they'd had going. He wasn't all that fussed about it really. He was kind of used to the whole bar thing by now, and although he hadn't really had much interaction with regards to the people here, he was content. He was kind of looking foward to this, really. The bar wasn't scheduled to serve alcohol for at least half an hour after opening, or so he'd decided. He was quite happy to just unpack boxes and set up as he heard people start to trickle in. Apparently everyone'd gotten the day off for this, and he had to admit that it was probably needed. They needed a safe environment in which to interact. A moderated one.
He was hoping that he'd see some of the people he knew here, at least. He wasn't sure if they drank or not, but he was quite happy to stay where he was, for the whole day if necessary. The act of doing a job like this was relaxing. Familiar.
Cleaning the last of the glasses, he straightened, figuring if he was going to wait, he might as well pull out a book he'd brought with him, settling down to read Good Omens. It'd been recommended to him by one of his sisters, and he was always happy to find new things to talk about with them. It kept things from getting stilted and uncomfortable. Leaning against the counter, he settled in to wait, keeping half an eye on the door.
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Cheryl wasn't a fan of being told what to do - obviously. But she had done it. The words strongly recommended had prompted her not to argue and she'd changed into a simple pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt as she didn't think her escort was going to wait around while she tried to make herself presentable. Mingling this early in the morning with people wasn't exactly something she was looking forward to, but if it made them happy - whoever they might be - she would do it. She'd be damned if she found herself waking up in an empty hospital room again because she felt rebellious.
She wandered around once she entered the hall, glancing at faces, looking for someone familiar. Jeremy. Drew. Hell, even Hannah would be acceptable at this point. A part of her felt like everyone who looked at her knew she had been an intern. Maybe they were judging. Or plotting. Or maybe it was just paranoia egging her on. Sighing, she kept mostly to herself until she came upon the room with the bar. Drinking before noon had always been a big no-no, and she wasn't about to start knocking back shots now. But water would definitely help the dryness in her throat, so she approached the guy with the book - the bartender, she assumed - a bit cautiously. "Uhm, are you open?" she asked, fully prepared to turn and bolt if he wasn't.
Looking up as the woman walked in, Jack nodded almost absently, folding the corner of his page over and putting his book back under the bar. He tried a smile on for size, found that it fit and stood a little straighter. He was strangely glad to see her dressed somewhat normally. For some reason, probably personal prejudice, he'd been expecting sombre colours and angry faces on almost everyone. He really had to get over that.
"Yeah, we're open. What can I get you?" He asked, shuffling a little to get his legs untangled from the cords under the bartop. He'd somehow managed, whilst reading, to get his foot tangled in a hose. He really should have been more careful where he put those things. "We're not serving the hard stuff until more people start arriving, but I can get you anything non-alcoholic that you'd like for the next half hour or so."
Cheryl couldn't help but smile a touch. After all, he was smiling - not scowling. Though she wasn't stupid enough to believe it was completely sincere in this place. "I'm not really into drinking the hard stuff this early in the day. Ask me in a few hours and I might tell you differently, but for now water's fine." She wandered a few more feet in and stopped as if debating before she finally moved forward to stand at the bar. "Actually, wait. Do you have soda? Like Dr. Pepper or something really sugary?" Screw it, she'd been living off of water and juice for months. Something bad for her sounded just as good as the Twinkies at the grocery store had. "What were you reading? If you don't mind me being nosy."
"I'll have to remember to ask you." He said with a smile. At least she didn't bolt, like she'd looked likes he wanted to before. He was quite happy to have someone to talk to, really. He wasn't big on the whole reading thing. He stopped with getting the glass of water, tipping it out into the sink and going to grab a bottle of Dr.Pepper and some ice for her.
"I think I have everything humanly available except sprite." He said with a twist of the mouth. He was quite happy to serve it all, but he'd had it drilled into his head that soda was bad for his teeth when he was younger, so he didn't drink as much of it now.
He looked back under the bar at her other question, rolling his sleeves up again before pulling the book off the top of the box under the bar, putting it down next to her glass. "Good Omens. I haven't read anything by these guys before, but my sister said I'd like it, so."
"I'll have to remember that. It's been a long time since I had a soda," she admitted with a small smile. Really, she didn't want to look too overeager for a Dr. Pepper lest he think she was completely insane. Cheryl took the glass and slid it toward her, eyes ticking to the book when he laid it down. "Neil Gaiman!" Cheryl picked up the book and flipped it over to skim the back, a bright smile spreading across her face. "Good Omens. This book is so fantastic. When Crowley and Aziraphale realize they've got the wrong anti-christ? Oh my god." She began to giggle before her eyes widened briefly. "Oh! You may not have gotten that far yet. Sorry." She set the book down with a grimace. "But it's so good. Really. And if you like it, try American Gods next because that's my absolute favorite novel by him."
He didn't really think about sliding the glass over to her, doing it on reflex. He was a little surprised, however, at how animated she was when he put the book down. It was the most excited he'd ever seen anyone get since he'd been there, and it startled a smile out of him, if nothing else. He wasn't sure how to continue along with the conversation, but he took the book back from her, thumbing the pages absently. He didn't treat his books the best, but he was as gentle as he could be.
"I just got there. I'm feeling really sorry for Crowley right about now. He's my favourite character." He said, with a slight grin. "This is my first book of his I've read, so I'll check out American Gods next then."
"They're both amusing," Cheryl told him before taking a sip of the soda. How pathetic was it that she was torn between laughter and crying every time she got to eat or drink, or do something she hadn't had in six months. "It gets better too, believe me. I won't spoil anything for you, but let me know how you like it! All of his books are fantastic." Cheryl looked around the bar room briefly. "Is this a volunteer type deal for you?" she asked, unsure of his status. It sounded better than coming out and asking if he'd been part of an experiment.
"I'm glad to hear that. I was hoping that the book wouldn't be a one off. I find it hard to find books that I like. I seem to have weird tastes." He said, smiling at her and going to rearrange the boxes behind the bar. He didn't want to stand idle; it always made him feel like he was missing something.
"Yeah, I'm a volunteer. Barman and carpenter, at your service." He shrugged, tapping his fingers against the box he was moving. "I'm Jack, by the way. Nice to meet you."
She sipped her soda again and felt herself relaxing. Just a smidge, anyway. "There's definitely a different kind of humor I find in his books. If you like weird, you would probably like his other stuff." Cheryl studied him, wondering if the volunteers were truly volunteers, or if they had been hired by... well, it didn't matter. She promised herself she wasn't going to consider the possibility that the scientists were still in charge. "I'm Cheryl." She watched him move the box for a moment. "I imagine both occupations keep you busy. Which one do you prefer?"
"Oh, that's good to hear. It's a bit hard to find an author that doesn't trail off into mainstream." He said, smiling and shrugging, waiting to see if anyone else was going to come in. Obviously not, so he could give Cheryl his full, undevided attention.
"To be honest, they both have their perks. I travel with both of them and I can do both part time, so. I don't think I can really choose." Shrugging, he leaned against the bar, tilting his head a little and bracing his legs against the floor, crossing them at the ankle. It was nice to have someone to talk to, at least. She didn't seem as completely batshit as some of the others he'd seen about town.
"Either way you get to try and fix something, right?" She slid his book toward her, just to flip through. She thought maybe she should go to the library and find a few books to take home with her. "People want you to listen and give them advice when they're drunk and miserable. And then they need you to come fix something broken inside of their home. Or wherever. It's nice though, that you can do two things you enjoy. And if you do them well, even better." She lifted her gaze to his and eyed him with a tiny grin. "You do do them well, don't you?"
"I like to think I do them well at least." He said with a slight grin. It'd been a while since someone'd teased him, the whole town walking on eggshells, so it was nice to have someone be slightly normal. He let her do whatever the hell she wanted with the book. It was a shitty little paperback he'd gotten at a two dollar store, pretty much well loved already, and that was the way he liked them. "I might have to ask for an outside opinion."
"Yeah? I'll break something in my house and have you come fix it," Cheryl offered with a tiny chuckle as her eyes skimmed over a short passage. "Or maybe I'll come into the bar, sobbing into my vodka and tell you all my troubles." She winced and then shook her head. "Scratch that. I'm sure you'll get plenty of that from other people. So far I like my soda, so I'll grade you a B plus on the bartender jig. Carpentry is still up in the air." She smiled up at him and wondered if she was flirting. Because good god, this was so not the time to be flirting with anyone.
Snorting and smiling at her, Jack shrugged, busying himself behind the bar. He was quite happy to chat, and she seemed...interesting. "As long as whatever you break is wooden. Otherwise, you're out of luck." He said, shrugging and shifting so he could lean against the bench. The talk about vodka made him roll his eyes, and her backpeadling from that idea was kind of amusing.
"B as in B movie or B as in B on an assessment? Because they're two totally different things." He said, grinning slightly.
"I'm sure I can find something wooden to destroy," Cheryl said with a firm nod, turning a page in the book. "Believe me. Or maybe I'll hire you to build me something instead and grade you on that. Like a boat, or something." She shut the book and slid it back over toward him. She was going to go find Stardust and read it for the fortieth time. She arched an eyebrow curious. "B on assessment, silly, although B movies are always fun to watch and laugh at. I guess I should have been more specific?"
"I feel sorry for your house." He said, smiling at her. She was fun to talk to, at least. He wasn't as bored as he was twenty minutes ago, which was always a bonus. "What I want to know is if you'll have a checklist. I was always rubbish at graded assessments."
Taking the book back from her, he shrugged. "I used to have this boss who would grade our performances on what movies he thought we worked like. If we hadn't seen the movie, we were instructed to go and watch it and then come back and explain ourselves. It made the bar an interesting place to work, at least."
"Eh." She waved her hand dismissively. "I don't really consider it my house, so whatever damage it incurs I'm not too worried about. I can so work on a checklist. Maybe I'll even created a spreadsheet. Jack's Carpentry Skills, Graded Assessments." She tapped her finger against her chin. "Yeah, that'll do." Cheryl rested both arms on the bar top, smiling a touch. "That sounds like your boss was really into movies, or he was an incredibly bored individual. What movies were you told to go home and watch?"
Snorting, he smiled at her. "Oh God, not the graded papers! You're not going to make me write an essay, are you? I'm not that good a speller." He said, putting the book under the bar and leaning his arms on the countertop, tilting his head and looking over at her. It was nice to see someone smiling.
"The Rat Pack and Mrs.Doubtfire. And don't you dare laugh."
"No essays, I promise! Multiple choice pop quizzes though... be on the look out for those." Cheryl arched an eyebrow and lifted her hand to rest loosely against her mouth as the laughter threatened. She did a pretty good job at keeping it in, but she wasn't able to stifle the amused smile on her face. "Is that right?" She cleared her throat and folded both arms on the bar top, feigning serious interest. "And what exactly did you learn about yourself, watching those two movies, Jack?"
Feigning a look of shock and shuddering, he fought down a grin, trying to keep a straight face. "Not the pop quizzes! I'm too old for school." He said, snickering despite himself. HE mock-frowned as she looked like she was going to laugh, wrinkling his nose at her, skin crinkling around his eyes as he just gave up and grinned.
"That I have a snazzy dress sense and I'd look good with a pair of tits and some pantyhose, I expect." He fought down a laugh of his own as he said that, because -really?-
"Your boss must have been trying to tell you something," Cheryl said. She lifted her butt off the stool just a touch to glance over the bar top as his entire ensemble. "You definitely didn't take any advice from the Rat Pack. You should be wearing a thousand dollar suit with a silk tie and holding a cigar." Her eyes drifted back up to his face. "And you don't have any tits." And wow, she just said tits in front of a guy she barely knew. Fantastic. "Though you could be wearing pantyhose for all I know. That you can keep to yourself, if you are."
"I'm wondering where he thought I was going to get the threads from, unless I went to Pukhet or something and got a knockoff made." He said with a shrug. He grinned at her as she looked him up and down, raising his eyebrows in return, tilting his head and making a show of patting down his legs.
"I'm sure I took those -off- after last time, but I'm not sure. My legs are deceptively smooth."
"Oh yeah? I'm going to have to ask you what your secret is sometime," Cheryl said, plopping back down on the stool with a laugh. "Who knows, maybe your boss thought you had a lot of potential. I could see where the Rat Pack might come in with that, but the other? Not so much! Unless it's the potential to fool everyone into thinking you're a woman. But I think your features are far too masculine to pull it off."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He said, trying to bat his eyelashes and failing miserably, just laughing at himself and leaning against the bar. "Or maybe he was just picking movies out of a hat. I wouldn't put it past him. But I'm glad my masculinity is safe from prosthetic makeup and pantyhose."
She laughed a bit with him, thinking it was odd having such an amusing encounter in a bar room. But that was okay. She would take amusing over depressing and scary any time. "For now, at least. Give it a bit more time and I might a completely different opinion of you. I may buy a few pairs of pantyhose to keep in stock, just in case I feel you ever need them."
"I don't know whether to thank you or burst into tears." He rolled his eyes as he spoke, grinning and waving a hand, bracing himself on the bar with his other arm. He was glad for someone to talk to, really. He'd been getting rather bored. There was only so much reading you could take.
"Having a contingency plan is always a good idea though. I wonder where I could get one of those boob suits."
"Hmm. You could just thank me. I'm not sure I could handle a woman crying.. er, I mean man," she teased, lifting her fingers to her lips. And then she smiled and stifled a laugh. "Maybe one of the stores in town have your bust size. If not, there's always online shopping."
Of course, that set him off to laughing. Grinning and shaking his head, he waved a hand at her, unable to affect the hurt look he wanted. "I doubt anyone would do anything but laugh if I walked in looking for a bra with stuffing." he said, snickering and leaning heavily against the bar. It had been a while since he'd laughed like that.
"You know what? With the people in this town? I doubt anyone would bat an eyelash at your request," Cheryl assured him, sipping at her Dr. Pepper. "If it makes you feel more comfortable, I'll go with you and say that I have extreme body image issues and the bra and stuffing is for me." It had been a long time since she had a silly conversation. A very, very long time. Even her conversations with Drew and Jeremy had that underlining paranoia and stress to them at times. Maybe because Jack was a volunteer she could shift and pretend like the last nine months hadn't happened at all. She could pretend to be normal.
"I think I'd bat an eyelash. Maybe it'd get me a discount." He said, grinning at her. It was a purely superficial reaction, this conversation, but a fun one. Everyone was so damn serious all the time, and yeah, they had a reason to be but it was depressing as all hell. There had been times over the last week that he'd been sure that if these people didn't get some form of laughter soon, they were going to fold in on themselves and start chewing their innards.
Which wasn't a nice mental picture.
"I don't think they'd believe you if you picked out something ten sizes too big for you and got me to model it."
"Oh! Were you going to model it?" Cheryl asked with pleasant surprise. "Brilliant. Then no, they probably wouldn't believe me, but the customer is always right, yes? So they would have to just shut up and stick to whispering behind our backs instead." She giggled a touch and shook her head. She would have apologized for being so ridiculous, but it reminded her of how she was before the breakdown. She was always willing to have stupid, silly conversations if it made people laugh. The guy wasn't creepy, or threatening, and it made her think that maybe this whole reintroduction to society thing was legit. Maybe. "Don't be surprised if you wake up to find a bra size in triple D on your porch some morning," she warned. "If I find one for you, I'm going to get it."
Jack didn't mind rediculous. Rediculous was fun. Especially since he didn't mind it being at his expense. Grinning at her, he shrugged, waving a hand and keeping half an eye on the door to see if anyone else was going to come in.
"I think I'd be more worried about someone putting lingere on my porch to worry about wearing it." He said, snickering and stretching his legs, bracing himself on the bar to do so. It'd been a while since he'd been able to have a silly conversation like this. It was relaxing. "I'd have to pay you back anyway. I heard that stuff is expensive."