Searing 53st, 121. The Hobbled Gobbler, Zaichaer
Jane winced as she noticed Eitan taking a drag from the hand rolled cigarette Ravok offered him. He would likely realize that it was not pure tobacco, at least with time. The Dratori were fond, especially at social events, to smoke cigarettes laced with Echo and other psychoactive herbs. While the distribution of such substances was controlled, the possession of it was not illegal, though this did not make it any less unseemly.
Ravok smile gently at Eitan's response, noticing his modest shrug with an eye of sympathy, “Forged in the fire of passion, eh? That makes for a special kind of man. Bastards are lucky where I come from, you know, and it sounds like Fate has favored you if come from the “right” side of the tracks.”
The Dratori took the cigarette back from Eitan, taking a light puff and passing it back to his cousin.
“Don't let them shame you, friend. Better that than to come from some stale, old bed like most of those Bluebloods, eh?”, Ravok said, elbowing Eitan playfully.
As Jane passed out their drinks, she noticed the tinge of discomfort in the Watcher's expression. She began to think of ways to separate Eitan from the crowd, if only to allow for a brief reprieve. Suddenly, the ringing of a brass bell from the kitchen stirred the bar, alerting all that the special for the evening was ready to be served. The masses began to shuffle up to the bar, Eitan's group included. Jane jumped at the sound and quickly rushed through the door that led to the kitchen.
A whole roasted Fungithal, basted and beautiful, laid on a large platter, dressed with variety of roasted vegetables and sliced apples. The mushrooms from it's body had been made into a sauce that was drizzled over the artfully craved flesh, ready to be served. This one was big enough to feed the bar two times over. While Franky could carry it with ease, Jane had requested that she might have the honor of presenting it, if only to make an impression on the crowd. Jane had grown more confident of her strength since she began working and, though she had her doubts, Millie was outgoing enough to try.
She knelt under the platter from the edge of the table, resting it on her shoulder and using both hands to steady it. Taking a few deep breaths, she raised it as she stood, the weight of it pressing her feet almost painfully into the floor. It was all about balance, Jane reminded herself. Balance. The door was held open for her as she made her way out. The guests marveled at the roast, some clapping in delight. Jane turned around slowly to give onlookers a complete presentation, drawing more applause and a few stray cheers. Finally, she knelt to set the platter down, her strength giving out as she did, resulting in it landing somewhat roughly on bar. People gasped as the roast jostled, though it remained intact. Jane crouched behind the bar to compose herself, panting from the effort. She pushed back a few stray hairs and stood with a smile, earning her a few cheers from the front. That, if anything, should amount to some extra tips.
Jane and her employer began to dole out portions of the Fungithal roast while providing fresh drinks to any that needed them. The bar was a flurry of action with hands exchanging their tickets for plates, though Jane was sure to set one aside for Eitan when he had the chance to receive it.
The guests, now content with their food and drinks, sat down to enjoy their dinner. Jane prepared a plate of her own, a favor granted to her by Franky for the effort she put into the presentation. While the Hobgoblin ran a tight ship, he was of the gregarious sort and was not one to let hard work go unnoticed. She intercepted Eitan before he was obliged to rejoin the Dratori circle, addressing them gently.
“I do apologize to you all, but I must speak with Eitan for a moment. We had been ta—um—talking about the possibility of—hiring him to work at the bar before he joined you. Normally—such a thing could wait, but you see, we're both on rather, uh, limited schedules this evening...”
The group regarded this incredulously, some puzzled, some smirking under some unsavory assumption. A few of the women glared and huffed in frustration. Ravok only waved Eitan off, glad to have met him but now fully occupied with his hot meal. Jane led Eitan to a table that near the wall of the room. It was somewhat secluded yet still gave her a full view in case someone needed service.
“I hope they did not treat you too roughly,”she said, wiping her hands with a cloth. She laid out her silverware, arranged according to standard dining etiquette. It was a gesture born of habit, one she was not fully aware of doing, repeating it with Eitan's silverware as she gave it to him.
“How have you—been enjoying your evening?”, Jane asked with caution, looking down as she cut the soggy Fungithal meat with her knife.
Jane winced as she noticed Eitan taking a drag from the hand rolled cigarette Ravok offered him. He would likely realize that it was not pure tobacco, at least with time. The Dratori were fond, especially at social events, to smoke cigarettes laced with Echo and other psychoactive herbs. While the distribution of such substances was controlled, the possession of it was not illegal, though this did not make it any less unseemly.
Ravok smile gently at Eitan's response, noticing his modest shrug with an eye of sympathy, “Forged in the fire of passion, eh? That makes for a special kind of man. Bastards are lucky where I come from, you know, and it sounds like Fate has favored you if come from the “right” side of the tracks.”
The Dratori took the cigarette back from Eitan, taking a light puff and passing it back to his cousin.
“Don't let them shame you, friend. Better that than to come from some stale, old bed like most of those Bluebloods, eh?”, Ravok said, elbowing Eitan playfully.
As Jane passed out their drinks, she noticed the tinge of discomfort in the Watcher's expression. She began to think of ways to separate Eitan from the crowd, if only to allow for a brief reprieve. Suddenly, the ringing of a brass bell from the kitchen stirred the bar, alerting all that the special for the evening was ready to be served. The masses began to shuffle up to the bar, Eitan's group included. Jane jumped at the sound and quickly rushed through the door that led to the kitchen.
A whole roasted Fungithal, basted and beautiful, laid on a large platter, dressed with variety of roasted vegetables and sliced apples. The mushrooms from it's body had been made into a sauce that was drizzled over the artfully craved flesh, ready to be served. This one was big enough to feed the bar two times over. While Franky could carry it with ease, Jane had requested that she might have the honor of presenting it, if only to make an impression on the crowd. Jane had grown more confident of her strength since she began working and, though she had her doubts, Millie was outgoing enough to try.
She knelt under the platter from the edge of the table, resting it on her shoulder and using both hands to steady it. Taking a few deep breaths, she raised it as she stood, the weight of it pressing her feet almost painfully into the floor. It was all about balance, Jane reminded herself. Balance. The door was held open for her as she made her way out. The guests marveled at the roast, some clapping in delight. Jane turned around slowly to give onlookers a complete presentation, drawing more applause and a few stray cheers. Finally, she knelt to set the platter down, her strength giving out as she did, resulting in it landing somewhat roughly on bar. People gasped as the roast jostled, though it remained intact. Jane crouched behind the bar to compose herself, panting from the effort. She pushed back a few stray hairs and stood with a smile, earning her a few cheers from the front. That, if anything, should amount to some extra tips.
Jane and her employer began to dole out portions of the Fungithal roast while providing fresh drinks to any that needed them. The bar was a flurry of action with hands exchanging their tickets for plates, though Jane was sure to set one aside for Eitan when he had the chance to receive it.
The guests, now content with their food and drinks, sat down to enjoy their dinner. Jane prepared a plate of her own, a favor granted to her by Franky for the effort she put into the presentation. While the Hobgoblin ran a tight ship, he was of the gregarious sort and was not one to let hard work go unnoticed. She intercepted Eitan before he was obliged to rejoin the Dratori circle, addressing them gently.
“I do apologize to you all, but I must speak with Eitan for a moment. We had been ta—um—talking about the possibility of—hiring him to work at the bar before he joined you. Normally—such a thing could wait, but you see, we're both on rather, uh, limited schedules this evening...”
The group regarded this incredulously, some puzzled, some smirking under some unsavory assumption. A few of the women glared and huffed in frustration. Ravok only waved Eitan off, glad to have met him but now fully occupied with his hot meal. Jane led Eitan to a table that near the wall of the room. It was somewhat secluded yet still gave her a full view in case someone needed service.
“I hope they did not treat you too roughly,”she said, wiping her hands with a cloth. She laid out her silverware, arranged according to standard dining etiquette. It was a gesture born of habit, one she was not fully aware of doing, repeating it with Eitan's silverware as she gave it to him.
“How have you—been enjoying your evening?”, Jane asked with caution, looking down as she cut the soggy Fungithal meat with her knife.
