Mar 12 06:48:03 106 PA
From Chronicles
At a time and date set by the three, Hex has been invited to come and test the bar out, to see her skills and see if the arrangement would suit all parties. The bar itself opens slowly later in the morning, and Aimee is there, sat at a table with coffee on the go, the bar's books open as she slowly does the takings from the previous night. The bar staff begin to set up, preparations for the day being made. The night before's mess was cleared before anyone got to go home and a few staff look tired...
With the opening night past, Desmond's suit has gone back into the closet. He sits beside Aimee, armored and armed as he ever is, peering down at the papers as she goes through them. He's been watching how she does them, working to learn the ins and outs of dealing with the financial side of the Alibi. He's a good study. Enough so that he will end up lifting an armored hand to point towards one of the fugues on the sheet. "I do not think this one is right," he rumbles to her, his eyes flitting towards Aimee herself.
She's early. By about five or so minutes. In through the open door, Hex shrugs snow from off of her thick ruff and shoulders, pausing to wipe her feet on a door mat before stepping into the main room of the bar and clearing her throat. To Desmond and Aimee she looks, muttering calmly, "Mornin'."
Aimee glances up at him, her forehead wrinkled into a frown at the feline. "Oui it is but you did not see me take it also from here..." She pulls one of the other papers out, showing him that she gathered that figure from three places, the bar, the door and the private bookings. Hex's entrance is met with a glance and then a smile. "Morning." She replies, rising from the seat, moving to welcome her. "I think, perhaps, we met briefly. I am Aimee, and you are the new bar supervisor, Hex, oui?" Her statement is designed not just to welcome Hex but to make it clear to the bar staff where everyone stands.
Desmond nods his head once as she's shown where the odd numbers came from, his brow furrowed slightly as he files away the detailed tidbit for later. Math. Not his strong suit. When HEx speaks, his attention lifts and he too will rise to approach. "Yes, at the KEC," he confirms Aimee's observation. "Welcome, Hex." He will keep slightly to the side, his eyes slipping towards the current bar staff, finishing up the set up for the coming day. He gauges them quietly and files away mental notes for later.
"Good mem'ry, yah. S'when Des was laid up, I met him by accident." Hex responds to Aimee first, and smiles sort of half-way. She looks a little tired, herself. "An' I s'pose so, d'pendin' on how things go." She seems relatively comfortable, not overly tense. "Jes' lemme know where t'start.."
Aimee takes a step back, waving a hand towards the bar. "It is all yours. We open in an hour, happy hour at five. That is Andrew, the acting supervisor." She steps back, folding her arms, watching Hex thoughtfully. She glances across at Desmond, one eyebrow lifted questioningly.
"Perhaps you might show me what you did during our opening," Desmond will request after Aimee has effectively turned Hex loose on the bar. "I did miss it, but some of the guests were quite complimentary on it." He will glance towards Aimee a moment after her own glance towards him, her questioning look met with his own steady one. He seems content with the way things are going thus far.
Hands are brought before her and clasped, one hand over fist, and held at chest height. Following this, the wolf bends at the waist in a bow, before she slips to the back of the bar. It takes her only a few moments of looking around to get acclamated, nose twitching at the combinations and directions of smells. Ears flick back and a look of intense concentration slips into place along each brow. Shakers are brought out, ice scooped with one hand while the other traps the necks of a few bottles and brings them up to the top of the bar. Rolling shoulders, the wolf plucks one bottle in each hand, using her wide palms and fingers to spin the bottles by their necks around each index finger before, in turn, pouring liquid into the base of the shaker. Another spin, and the bottles are returned to their original keeping place. The shaker's lid is slammed onto the base, and the wolf tosses the closed container in the air, setting it to a vertical spin. The ice clatters around the stainless steel container. When it lands between her paws, she tosses it again a shorter distance, catching it in one palm and twirling it - much like one would twirl a batton. The other takes out a pair of martini glasses, held between broad fingers. The other hand cracks the shakers open and pours directly between the two glasses' edges, pouring two martinis simultaneously, and equally. Olives are brought out when the glasses are set down, and speared along with a slice of lime each. Afterward, the wolf slides them to the end of the bar and opens arms as if to say, 'enjoy'.
Watching Hex's stylish display of barpersonship with crossed arms, one eyebrow lifted in query, the finale drews a nod and a smile from the woman. She picks up the glass, offering a soft comment. "Not bad. Now to see if you can run the bar." Turning, Aimee makes her way back to her table, resuming her work, watching Hex's movements and interactions with half her attention, the other half set on keeping the bar moving through the money it makes.
Desmond turns his attention to Hex as she goes behind the bar. Likely she's used to some wide eyes or gasps when it comes to how she works now and then. Desmond isn't one of those. But he does watch her work intently, his head bobbing amid the routine with a silent approval. "You are good with your hands," he confirms, looking to the other martini with a casual curiosity. He'll pick it up carefully, examining the obviously foreign drink for a moment before he looks to Hex herself. "If you have any questions or requests, you need only ask us. There is no wrong question to asks. " He does linger briefly, as if to see if one does manifest at once.
"Cert'ly will if I come by any." Hex assures Des before moving to speak to some of the other tenders. Despite her towering over one or two of them, once she begins speaking, they seem to be relatively all right. She gestures at certain places along the bar, to which they nod and move. Early in the day, the bar scene is relatively slow, so Hex does her usual idle thing, and plucks up glasses to polish or dry depending on where they appear from. "F'I come 'ere, y'll get a few of th'regulars that come t'me, sh'd mention." She says to Aimee and Des.
Aimee rests her chin in her hand, resting her elbow on the table. She regards Hex thoughtfully before nodding at the words. "Oui, it is inevitable I suppose." She replies, lifting one shoulder in a small gesture, almost a shrug. "We are not exclusive, or as posh perhaps as the Nightingale, and so we welcome anyone, if they have the credits and they have the sense to not make trouble." She glances back to the papers, frowning as she corrects a figure, nipping on her lower lip.
Desmond will return to the table with Aimee, setting the martini down. Likely he'll sample it amid puzzling through the way Aimee tends to the numbers. An ear will flick upward when Hex mentions her regulars stopping over. His head will bob in agreement with Aimee's words. "So long as they cause no trouble in this place, all are welcome to come and enjoy themselves." He lifts his eyes towards Hex, asking, "I would assume you know the proper time to cut off those who have partaken too much? They were.. too lenient with such things at Moe's. It lead to some problems which I would like to avoid."
"Yah, th'signs are preddy clear. Used to it, cert'ly. Keep a list'a local cabbies with me, 'case folk can't get hold of anyone. S'personal policy, mos'ly. They come t'me t'serve 'em right, an' even if they walk out th'door, they're still my customers. Like to know they get home okay, so they can contine t'be. Dead folk make terrible customers." The wolf comments, eyeing the outside of a glass. "Didn' have many fights at the Nut'n'Bolt. Then again, Judge usually made 'em think twice b'fore startin' stuff. Skipped town a while back, though, Judge did."
Aimee listens with half an ear, taking the odd sip of her martini, a nod of approval with the first sip. She leaves Desmond to ask the questions aloud, glancing at one of the barstaff and then at the clock, as the time to open arrives. She waits though, waiting to see how Hex will handle the opening rush and choices. "Judge?" She repeats the name questioningly, her voice carrying to where Hex is.
Desmond nods his head once in response to Hex's words. "Unfortunate, that. Talented security staff are another thing we keep an eye out for," he rumbles deeply. "I will leave it to you, then, to guide such things. My own eye for it is not so keen and it will take me time to acclimate to this place in sensing when trouble brews." Not if, when. With his immeidate words spent, he looks to the martini again, licking it up with an exaggerated care. His light taste of it results in a resumption of his thoughtful air as he sets the slight glass down again.
"Big feller, 'bout another head taller'n me n'twice as broad. Newfie. He did some bouncin' at the Nut'n'Bolt while 'e was in town." Hex offers to Aimee at the question. To Desmond, she snorts a little, offering a wry grin. "Yah, he was good at what he did. Had a problem with th'booger sugar, though." She taps the side of her nose before rolling eyes. "Trouble's somethin' else I'm familiar with. Hadter throw out more'n my fair share of rowdy drunks."
Aimee nods slowly, the answer to her question both suitable and enough. She lets the two talk, glancing between them, her pen working both on the numbers on her pad, and a small notebook beside it. Her other hand turns the glass slowly by its stem, her face thoughtful. "How many shifts do you work a week?" She asks Hex directly, narrowing her green eyes at the other female.
"Normal week, six. Sometimes, durin' winter, eight or more, d'pendin' on how many folk'sre tryin' t'get some relief from th'winter dull. Don' mind long days, don' mind long nights. Got 'nough energy t'last me twenny-four hours're better, 'fore I need sleep, most times." Her tail flicks a little behind her, drawing a surprised look from one of the tenders near her. Apparently he thought it was for show, or something.
Desmond seems to not place the slang that Hex uses, but places this so called 'sugar' as a bad thing, his head nodded as he considers what has been said. "You should not need to do so here. We have several hires to tend to it. But you should not, if pressed, hesitate to use appropriate force to keep the peace here." Yes, leeway. He looks to Aimee as the talk turns to hours. "She should not need to work so long," he comments, glancing at the papers that the woman is working on.
Aimee's notes continue and she glances at the other barstaff, giving them a nod to open the doors and let the rabble in. "She should not." Aimee replies softly to Desmond, her tone thoughtful. From where Desmond sits, he can clearly see notes on the performance, the interaction with the other staff, and hours and pay. Below them, quick maths done and a tick beside it. Aimee rests her chin in her hand, watching Hex closely, green eyes thoughtful.
"Don' mind workin' that much. Heh. Some folk're alcoholics, some're workaholics. S'long as th'first sort need booze, I get to be the second kind." The wolf shrugs, watching the doors open while ears radar around her. When one person enters, looking a little world-weary already, Hex watches him close as he makes his way to the bar. The interaction between the wolf and human is mostly ritual. He orders, she nods and fulfills. He pays, she gives him his drink. He remembers to ask for peanuts, she provides. Simplistic. Practiced. Natural, for all that bars can be considered natural.
Desmond does keep an eye on what Aimee writes, as he has been for the last few hours. "I trust we shall find a comfortable span of hours for you to work," he says, looking up towards Hex. HIs attention remains lifted as she goes aobut her first customer service of the day. Observing until the request for peanuts before he looks down to Aimee's work. To her he rumbles lowly, "Good it is to know she will do well in times that require an extended commitment. Such as when you worked at Moe's."
Aimee watches the interaction, keeping her gaze on the working barwoman. "To work well, you have to rest, mon ami, and we expect you to work five days only, long days perhaps but you take those two off unless the circumstances are exceptional, or I will fire you." Although she speaks with a soft voice, the tone suggests that is not a joke. "You get paid a set amount, and it covers what you earn right now plus some more. You supervise our bar, the staff, the stock, and you keep that side in balance." She shrugs, glancing over at Desmond. "I think mon chat agrees with me. Non?"
When Aimee speaks of firing if she doesn't take her days off, Hex smirks faintly, the action crinkling the corners of her eyes where the black flesh is most visible. "Arright, I getcha." She nods along to the rest, the quality of each nod stating non-verbally that she both understands and 'can do'. "'M pretty flexible for hours. Peak times work fine fer me, too, so." Having already downed his drink, the man orders another round, and Hex fulfills, processing payment after.
"I do. One cannot extend too far, save in times of the most dire need," Desmond will reply steadily. "We do not anticipate dire need at any time in the near future, however." His attention shifts towards the customer and Hex, resuming a light observation. He pauses then as one of the men at the front waves to get his attention. He rises at once to stride over and delve into a low toned conversation with the man.
Aimee gives Hex a long look of consideration before nodding, scribbling a note on the pad, rising to walk to where Hex stands. She holds out the pad, some discretion required for this page. "This is what we suggest we pay you." The question is made by the arch of an eyebrow, and the pause for response. "You can start when you wish, as soon as you are able." She glances at Desmond, assuming he agrees.
Still polishing glasses, the wolf casts a sideways glance at the pad before doing a double take and pausing her glass-polishing altogether. The muscles in her face remain the same, but her ears switch about in an interesting, intricate radar until one is fully forward and the other is quirked out to the side. Pale eyes skirt from the pad to Aimee's face, their lids more open than before. "Y'sure 'bout that?" She asks rather quietly. When she mentions when to start, the wolf actually laughs a little. It's a breathy sound, like the wind's been knocked out of her a little, but she smiles and says, "C'n start t'night."
Whatever the security man wanted, it's a brief exchange for Desmond, a bob of his head given before he turns to start back towards the table. Only to see Aimee headed towards the bar. He adjusts his stride and will meet her there a few moments after her arrival. "I believe you will make a fine addition to our staff," he confirms without even showing an interest in the figure that Hex is displayed. A show of his trust in Aimee, perhaps. Seeing that Hex enjoys the number displayed, he looks towards Aimee. "We can begin recording her time now?"
Aimee's eyebrows raise in amusement and she glances again at Desmond, her mouth curving into a smile. "Well, if you prefer we pay you less, mon ami... We are expecting a lot from you, and it is more than just giving the drinks out. You run the staff behind the bar, you deal with stock, you keep it within budget, and oui, you and Kesslan keep peace in our bar." She shrugs lightly, "We pay you weekly, if that suits?" Desmond's question gets a shake of the woman's head and she laughs then, green eyes amused. "Oh no, Kesslan paid for today I think." Wry humour there.
Clearing her throat a little of whatever lodged itself there (Possibly her stomach), the wolf takes a breath and bows her head to the woman in a humble display. "Suits me fine, n'I assure you it won' go t'waste. An'yah, weekly's fine by me." Rising, she actually smirks a bit and nods. "Th'lady's got it. Kess arreddy paid for t'day. I'll stay long as y'like t'keep my half of th'bargain. Jes' do me a favor an' be sure to tell him I showed, eh?"
Desmond nods once to Hex. "He shall know. If you would, stay on for the length of your shift, to familiarize yourself and the staff with it." There is a pause before he adds, "I shall leave the talk of dinner between you two." The sentence deadpanned with ease by the big feline.
Aimee chuckles, giving Hex a warm grin for the first time, the professional manner dropping. "Oui, and you call me Aimee." She ignores her paperwork for the moment, sliding to sit on a bar stool beside Hex, giving Desmond a glance at his talk of dinner. "I think perhaps work a bit, and then go and tell your old boss that he lost you?"
"Be glad to." Hex responds to the mention of full shift, and then smirks at mention of dinner plans. A rumble of a laugh enters her throat and bubbles out in a warm fashion. The warmth that Aimee offers is met with a grin from the big wolf, and she nods. "Yah, sh'tell Rod 'fore th'days out. Not like 'e's hurtin' for tenders, anyway, else I'd feel guilty." She leans against the bar on both palms and lets out a breath. "S'right nice of y'both t'hire me on. 'Preciate it."
Desmond nods his head once. No warmth per se, but there is a relaxed contentment about his outward demeanor that softens the usual stoniness of his expression just a bit. "You're welcome. Though Kesslan is the one that most deserves this thanks. Had he not made mention of this, I know not that we three would be here now."
"Well, I think perhaps that we owe Kesslan a reward...for finding us a prize." She glances at Desmond, lifting an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile that she keeps for those two men. "I think, me, I should do those bills, or the business will close." She slides from the stool, moving to gather the papers into her arms. "I'll work in the office, it is quieter..."
Hex laughs once again, her smirk edged with the tiniest hint of cat-that-caught-mouse, or in this case, wolf-that-catches-cat. "I'll be sure to extend thanks t'him when I see him next. S'spect I'll be seein' him soonish, both of us workin' 'ere." As Aimee announces her departure, Hex gives her another nod. "Thank you 'gain. Y'need anythin' from me, just holler."
Desmond arches a brow when Aimee makes said suggestion, responding to her with a simple nod. "Perhaps so," he rumbles. Then, as she turns to go, he extends a hand, casually seating fingertips on her hip, letting her turn and departure draw from the casual touch. He will then turn back to Hex and consider her for a few moments before he offers, "Good luck. I will be near." A dip of his head before he turns, going back towards the front to meet once more with the security there. Eventually he too will migrate to the back as well, though it will take him a bit longer. Tags: aimee, desmond, hex
