2007-04-01: False Pretenses


Gwen_icon.gif Stuart_icon.gif Yael_icon.gif Tabitha_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif Eliana_icon.gif


A night of drinking in DnA leads to lots of misunderstandings. Gwen starts calling herself Grant so she can use his credit card and when Jack pretends Yael is his girlfriend to get her a drink, Eliana sees the two pretending to be chummy and takes it for the worst. Jack leaves to try and reconcile and Yael and Gwen talk over paid for drinks.

April 1st, 2007:

False Pretenses

Club DnA

Tuesday night is not normally a night of partying, however it is April Fools Day and some people will find any excuse to go out for a drink. Gwen is one of those people, who has installed herself at the bar, waving a credit card and trying to get service. "Hellooo?" After the bartender finishes with his customer, he finally comes down to the opposite end to take her order. "Martini, three olives, no shaking it. And I'd like to start a tab, too." She passes over the credit card - the name on the bottom clearly says Grant Fitzpatrick. He looks at Gwen and then down at the name again with a raised eyebrow. "What? I'm totally Irish."

It may not be a night for partying, but for some folks its a day off, wooh! One such chap is Stuart Lauder, wearing a nice dark silk shirt and a sort of casual suit as he hangs near the bar and tries to fight his way to service himself, "OI!.. Dammit, I have money here and I need to be insensible in 3 hours," he says, over the heads of a pair of teenage girls, waving a roll of twenties, "Make it happen, eh?" he says to the bartender when he eventually gets his attention.

Tabitha sashays on into Club DnA's. She's not scoping out the competition, her club is completely different from this place. So this is not patronizing the 'enemy', this is enjoying oneself with NYC's nightlife! Decked out in yellow, with a matching handbag of course, she checks out the place as she makes her way in. No particular place is immediately headed for. Hmm.. the drawback of her minute stature does leave her with some difficulty in checking out the room.

A wallflower to the extreme, Yael is one of those club-goers who hovers on the balcony upstairs, alternating between occupying a seat on one of the sofas and standing awkwardly by the railing when feeling crowded. Which… is often. So right now, dressed in a pair of jeans, a fitted green shirt, with her hair tied back in a knot, Yael is leaning against the railing, peering down at the first floor. There's a drink in her hand, something brightly coloured and almost certainly girly, from which she sips occasionally.

If she weren't wearing yellow, chances are good that Jack would've collided with the diminuative woman when she paused inside the doorway. As it is, he has to throw in the Flinstone brakes to keep from stumbling over her. With the quiet, dignified grace of a kitten caught in a downpour, he windmills his arms and rocks back on his heels. Then, unable to maintain his precarious balance any longer, he falls backward and lands on his round Irish ass. Wincing at his own improvised acrobatics, he lets out a self-depricating sigh. At least he's not wearing a suit today. Jeans are a lot easier to dust off. Same with a white t-shirt and a leather jacket.
Also, "Ow."

A martini is set down in front of Gwen and she smiles sweetly at the bartender. "Thank you, doll." Nothing like the first sip of a good martini. Pulling out the olives, she holds them over her drink until they're done dripping and then picks the glass up by the stem, taking a dainty sip. Now this is what she enjoys. Stuart, down further on the bar is given a raised eyebrow and a pitying stare. Ah, how horrible it must be to not be able to get service. However, she makes no move to help the man get service. Instead, she swivels around in her seat to stake out who she might want to try and chat up.

Having managed to secure himself both a line of drinks (shots!) and a space at the bar, Stuart begins the task of drinking himself insensible, as previously mentioned. He holds one of the shotglasses up in Tabitha's direction when she comes in and proceeds to drink them, mmmhmn, drink. The roll of twenties, now a tad lighter, is safely back in his inside jacket pocket, hes not wearing his shoulder rig tonight, for a change.

Tabitha takes a step forward to head to the bar, but makes it no further than that. Blinking, she turns around to see Jack there on the floor. What just happened here? Oblivious that she was in the way? Yup! "Are you alright?" she asks, peering down at Jack with genuine concern. Pardon if she doesn't bend over to help him up. Precarious with the low top and being endowed. Boys understand this, right?

From her perch upstairs, Yael is more than poised to see Jack's untimely arrival and fall. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. She doesn't immediately rush to his side, toying with the straw in her drink as she takes a long sip. Briefly, she considers descending the staircase, dangerous though it might be, to mock him for his mishap. When Tabitha (whom she recognizes as the owner of 14G) speaks to him, however, Yael decides instead to lean over the railing a bit more and watch curiously.

Jack opens his mouth to loose a sharp reply, then closes it. Instead, he just nods his head and smiles crookedly as he hauls himself to his feet. Jack can't speak for the rest of the boys, but he's familiar with the concept of Topheavius Maximus. "Sure. Fine. You should watch standin' in doorways, though. A lil' lady-o like yourself could get stepped on." There's enough humor in his tone that he's clearly not being insulting. For once.

Leaning with her back against the bar, Gwen is careful not to spill any of her precious drink. She's planning on having a lot more of these before the night is over. It's a crowded club and she missed the initial crash between Jack and Tabitha, so that's not really interesting. Other than Tabitha's dress. Very bright yellow. Wow. It looks fashionable and expensive, and Gwen takes note of things like that. All the better to buy for herself. Amusing herself, she tries to decide if she can tell the designer by the cut. That takes a bit of thinking.

In between shots, Stuart pauses, takes the appropriate five minutes and two more shots to get the bartender's attention and points over in Gwen's rough direction, obviously ordering her another when shes done that one. Then the big ape sits back, knocks back another shot and looks over at the club proper, eyes drawn by the yellow for a moment, jesus, but they don't half make bright dresses these days.

Tabitha blinkblinks. "What?" She looks back at where she was just a few moments ago then Jack as he hauls himself up. "Oh my goodness! I didn't realize I was in the way, I'm so sorry." She puts on a winning smile and her innocent stance just calls out 'whupsie!' "Can I.. buy you a drink to make it up to you?"

From up here, she can't quite make out what's being said, and that doesn't sit well with Yael's curious nature. With one more sip of her drink, she starts down the staircase, gripping the banister tightly as she descends to the lower level so as not to fall. Even the thought of it causes the colour to rise in her cheeks slightly, but she makes it to the first floor without incident. Vague amusement lingers on her face as she makes her way to the bar, slipping past Jack and Tabitha without acknowledging her friend. She does snicker a little beneath her breath, however.

Jack cocks his head to one side, considering the dangers of any but the briefest of encounters with the Topheavius Maximus in its natural, pop culture-oriented habitat. Feeling the same mix of obligation and unease that's the mainstay of hosts on TV's Animal Planet, he nods. "Uhh. Sure. There's no harm in sharing a drink, right?" Trust the snickering Yael to choose that exact moment to make her pass-by. Rather than irritated, the Irishman looks quite pleased to see her. With a guileless smile, he moves to block her bar-approach vector. "As long as you don't mind if Cohen joins us. She's my.. ahh.. girlfriend."

That martini is gone in quick order. Though Gwen takes it slow to start, usually she gets too greedy and just drinks it down in a few swigs. Putting the empty glass on the bar behind her, she swings around again to order another while munching on her olives. That's the healthy part of binge drinking. After ordering another and being told that it's already been paid for, she blinks and looks over in Stuart's direction - once he's pointed out to her. Smiling at him, she raises her new drink in his direction. Free drinks are always appreciated by the blonde. Of course, every drink tonight is a free drink since it's on Grant, but this is better because she didn't have to steal a credit card to get it.

After saluting Gwen in return with the last of his line of shots, Stuart manages to corral the bartender again and get himself a scotch, which takes a few moments of half-heard conversation and eventual pointing to the bottle. Best to let the shots settle and go on to sipping alcohol. After another couple of minutes building up courage, he fights his way back through the scrum at the bar and makes his way in Gwen's rough direction, "Hello!" he says, making an effort to be heard over the music, "having a fun night?"

Tabitha continues to grin, not even the mention of a girlfriend phases her. Either that's not a problem or she wasn't hitting on Jack. "That's not a problem," she says, striding her little self past Yael and Jack towards the bar to get her own drink. "Excuse me," she calls out to the bartender as she perches on a stool. She leans over just enough to get attention, "I'll have a cosmo, and whatever that gentleman there would like." She gestures towards Jack for the bartender's benefit.

"Jack!" Feigning surprise in a highly successful way, Yael greets Jack with a warm smile, without so much as batting an eye when he gets in her way. For the sake of the illusion, she loops an arm around his waist and tips her head against his shoulder, glancing to Tabitha. "I remember you," she says, gesturing with the drink in her hand. "You own 14G, right?" As she pulls her arm away from Jack, she jabs him in the side lightly before following after Tabitha and taking her own seat at the bar.

For his part, Jack maintains his smile as he guides his 'lady' toward a seat, then climbs onto one beside her. Content to let Yael handle the conversation end of things for the moment, he instead addresses the bartender. "The gentleman will have a vat of bourbon, thankyouverymuch."

When Jack's aforementioned vat of bourbon arrives, he accepts it gratefully and immediately starts to drink like a thirst marathoner.

Pulling the last olive off it's toothpick slowly, Gwen smiles at Stuart and chews slowly. Repeating the process of drip drying olives and slowly taking her first step, she tilts her head a bit to take in Stuart's form. He's back to talking to the bartender, so she goes back to her crowd watching until he finally speaks to her. A man who buys her drink at least deserves some conversation. "I was wondering if you were going to say hello," she replies sweetly. "My night's a lot better now that I have someone to talk to."

Sucker, thats Stuart as he grins at Gwen, "Same here, I'm Stuart," he says, offering his hand to shake and mentally lambasting himself for asking, "Do you come here often?" Afterwards, as if in an effort to save face, he looks out at the club proper and says, "You know, I've not been dancing for a while, an' I'm on my own, would you be up for a reel?"

There are plenty of clubs, pubs, restaurants and bars in New York City, so it was just a matter of time before Eliana was able to get a gig waiting tables. She's just come off an afternoon shift, and after dipping by her apartment to love on her cat a little and change into clubwear, she arrives at DnAs. The pink-haired woman is decked out in a light blue sundress with orange paisleys that hugs her curves, and beaded jewelry to tie together the bright ensemble. She shrugs off her coat on the way to the bar. Even if he's given up heavy drinking, Eli's sure that's where she's going to find Jack.

Tabitha turns away from the bar, to face Yael. Smiling she cants her head slightly, "That's right." One leg crosses ladylike over the other as she leans back against the bar, her drink served up behind her. A glimpse is made to Jack chugging his drink. An eyebrow arches faintly before turning her attention back onto Yael.

"A vat?" Sliding a sidelong look to Jack as both hands raise her glass from the bar, Yael rolls her eyes in a joking manner, though she can't help the smirk that sneaks onto her face. "Slow down, tiger," she quips, her accent twisting her words rather obviously. Reaching out with a hand to ruffle his hair in a familiar way, she adds, "I saw you trip and fall earlier, you little gazelle." As she turns back to Tabitha, she shakes her head in a kind of teasing disapproval. "I've told him to watch where he's going. He gets distracted very easily. He's like a kitten."

When he's emptied his glass with the casual ease of a long-practiced alcoholic, Jack thunks it back down on the bar and signals to the wide-eyed bartender for a refill. Yael's familiar gestures and comments leave Jack slack-jawed for an instant. "Uhh.." he eloquently replies. Think fast, Irishman! "I am /not/ a bloody gazelle," he huffs. "Besides, you're the one who can't tell her feet from mine whilst dancing."

While the look on Gwen's face doesn't change from the welcoming smile, her thoughts start on a downward spiral. Oh man. One of those who can't think up a good line to ask a girl to dance. Knowing the bartender is still right behind her, she beams at Stuart and doesn't skip a beat when introducing herself. "Grant." Taking his hand in hers, she shakes it gently. "Dancing? I'd love to, but I normally need a few more drinks before making a fool of myself like that."

He knows hes fluffed this, he really does, but Stuart can't help but press on, "Grant?" he asks, looking at her throat for a second despite himself, no adam's apple there, "Well, lets get some drink in you an'-" he says, cut off by something vibrating at his belt. "Excuse me," he continues, as he grabs his pager and looks at it, "Really, excuse me, I've an errand needs running, could you use up the rest of my tab there for me? I'll try and be back before closing, but someone needs to make use of it. Pleasure meeting you, Grant." and then hes away into the crowd on the floor and out towards the door, whisky still in hand.

Tabitha reaches behind her for her drink. She takes a sip and swallows. "Oh? Is that the case?" She grins over her glass at Jack, smiling at both him and Yael in amusement. "I think he might need another, something seems to be eating away at him."

Even in the crowded club, it doesn't take Eliana long to spot her man. But she also spots her man with a woman who is not her. Eliana squints as she nears, doing her best to stay hidden by the crowd as she arcs her way closer. Is that…is that the girl who spilled her drink and ashes on her? …/bitch./ By the time Eliana reaches the bar, her main focus has become staying calm. She sits a few stools down from Jack and the girl's, but she remains behind the Irishman. When the bartender comes over, Eliana orders a Ja..no, a rum and coke, easy on the rum.

"Well, that's the point," Yael remarks as Jack defends himself, after which she takes a quick swig of her drink. "It was sarcasm, tateleh. And I told you that I couldn't dance, but no, you had to drag me onto the floor anyway. It's your own fault that I stepped on your toes so many times." She leans over on her stool, nudging him with her shoulder with a quick little laugh. "Something is always eating away at dear Jackie." If she's aware of Eliana sitting behind them, she certainly doesn't show it.

Committed to maintaining his ill-conceived illusion, Jack drapes an arm around Yael's waist and his hip bumps hers companionably. When he tackles his second vat of bourbon, it's at a much more reasonable rate. "Usually," he says between sips. "Women are being modest when they say things like that. If I'd have known I was going to have to see a podiantricist.. err.. Pornithologist? Anyway, if I'd knew I was going to need a foot doctor, I'd have let you stay seated." The continual perpetrator of his own demise, he doesn't see Eliana either. He's already busy ducking one female's scorn.

"That's me. Grant. Grant Fitzpatrick." Gwen takes to the name swimmingly, not even minding that it's a boys name. And the name of the boy she's trying to wiggle back into the apartment of. "Oh, well, some other time then, Stuart." Turning around back to the bar, she frowns at her martini. There went the man who was supposed to buy her drinks all evening. Oh well, might as well enjoy this one. And everything is not a total loss. Swinging around in her chair, she poises herself to snag another man wanting to buy her a drink.

Tabitha laughs a little over her drink. "I think you're upsetting the poor man," she says to Yael. She tries to not snicker and fails, "Don't you mean podiatrist?" How embarrassing. He fell over a woman, now he's being teased and corrected. Points for emasculating poor Jack this evening!

Upset? Jack certainly doesn't look upset as far as Eliana is concerned. She pays for her drink rather than opening a tab, and sits quietly as she listens, watching out of the corner of her eye in addition to stealing the occasional glance. Her mind is whirling, and the conclusions she's coming to are definitely Not Good ones. As she sits, Eliana starts to slowly release gas into the heavy air, but the amount is far from enough to have any major effect.

Clucking her tongue in response to Tabitha, Yael waves a hand dismissively, turning to look at Jack with a self-assured grin. "Oh, don't be dramatic, Jack. You didn't even go see a doctor. He isn't upset, either. He enjoys it," she replies, accompanied by another laugh. Teasingly, she musses his hair again and adds, "Don't you, tei-yerinkeh?" Well, if he's enjoying it now, he's going to be enjoying is significantly less once Eliana makes her presence known. For now, however, Yael seems to be endlessly amused by this turn of events, and she snickers again as she lifts the glass to finish off her drink. "And how is your club doing?" she asks, turning her attention back to Tabitha, though she makes no effort to disentangle herself from Jack's arm.

Bit by bit, Jack is regaining his poise. His customary crooked grin is back, as is the wry humor in his eyes. "I wish you'd speak English when you tease me. If not that, then something decipherable like Italian or French." Clucking disapprovingly, he makes a futile attempt to smooth down his perpetually tousled hair. "And don't muss me," he jokes. "I'm far too pretty to be mussed." As he knocks back another slug of bourbon, he pinches her just below her ribcage with his already-wrapped hand.

Tabitha takes another sip of her drink before setting the glass down on the bar. Amusement dances in her eyes about the teasing of poor, poor Jack. "My club is doing just fine. So far, so good.. and oh I like that she's not using some language as boring French or Italian. They're pretty, but it's refreshing to hear.. Hebrew isn't it? Variety is good!"

That's about all Eliana can take. She chugs the rest of her drink before she sets her glass down on the bar at regular-glass-slamming volume. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Eliana gets up from her stool and storms past Jack and his new lady. Thankfully, Tabitha escapes her hidden wrath. As she passes, Eli mutters several things under her breath, including, "Kurveh, stealing him away…fucking mamzer. An alteh machashaifeh, too." Grumblegrumble. But as quickly as Eliana found Jack, she finds the door again, and by the time she's reached it, she's doing more than muttering curses in the language she grew up hearing her grandparents' speaking.

The first to notice Eliana is Yael, but it's the Yiddish that catches her attention, more than the girl herself. Something changes in her expression once she turns to seek out the speaker, her eyes landing on Eliana's retreating form. "…she just called me a whore," she says incredulously, blinking several times, uncertain what she ought to be doing right about now. "And you a bastard." Drawing Jack's arm away from her waist, Yael pushes him around in the stool until he's facing the proper direction to see Eliana. "That's bad, yes?"

Uh oh. Suddenly swiveled, Jack knuckles at his eyes, then peers at Eliana's now retreating backside. "She what? Oh." Then he realizes that he's nose deep in the shit heap. "OH. Oh no. Oh shit. That's her. I'd recognize that bottom anywhere." What suave sophistication that he'd managed to reclaim is gone in a heartbeat. He gulps and swivels back around to face Yael. "Oh man. This is bad."

Tabitha may not make out a word of Eliana's wrath, but there's no mistaking the woman is upset. Well. What got under her skirt? No matter! Not Tab's concern! She finishes off her drink, then slips payment for it and Jack's vat to the bartender with a nice tip too. "Oh I'm sure you can manage to make it up to her, whatever misunderstanding you two are having." Beaming at Yael and Jack, she slips away from the bar, "Nice to meet you two!" And she's off to mingle in the crowd, and probably dance some as well!

From her seat at the bar, Gwen can watch all the little drama unfold between Yael and Jack and Eliana. She's not at all sure what happened, or what was said, since she doesn't speak any language other than English, but boy did that woman look pissed. This is interesting. Even going so far to hop another seat down to see what might have caused this, she rests an elbow on the bar and leans in, sipping eagerly on her martini.
Planting a hand firmly against Jack's back, Yael gives him a shove, as if to urge him off his chair. "You can either sit here and talk about how bad it is, and probably end up drunk, or you can get up and go get her. I suggest the latter," she says, sounding quite sincerely apologetic. Of course, this little tiff was hardly inconspicuous, given the way Eliana walked out of here. "But if you want to stay and get drunk, I'll make sure you get home." Pause. "Alone."

Despite the fact that he's blundered his way into a situation that can only be described as woefully unfortunate, Jack still has the presence of mind to glare at Yael. "We already agreed, no sex. Let's not revisit that issue. Uhh.. Maybe I should give her a while to cool off before I try to explain? You have a vagina, you tell me." It's a sincere query, and Jack's expression is expectant.

Though not drunk, Gwen can't help but to interject into this interesting conversation. Backstabbing and cheating is kind of her forte. "A girl runs off, she wants you to chase her." Twirling her olive kabob, she grins at Jack as if she didn't just drop in on a stranger's conversation. "Though, really, it seems like an awful lot of trouble for someone who doesn't even bother to confront you about the truth."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Yael replies to his first remark, rolling her eyes in a less teasing fashion now. "Let me think." She turns around once more, looking back to the door as if Eliana might return and make up her mind for her. When she doesn't, the Israeli mumbles something beneath her breath. "She's right," she says finally, once Gwen speaks up. "She would want you to go after her to explain yourself, otherwise it looks like you have something to hide. It would be better to talk to her about it before she makes up any more stories in her head."

Jack hauls himself out of his hair with a grunt. "You're both right," he concedes. "Why the hell would she storm out like that without saying anything. I mean, other than some name-calling. Sorry about that, Cohen," he belatedly apologizes. "But I should go. Drink some coffee, sober up a bit, then try and sort this mess out." Despite his words, he doesn't seem thrilled with the idea. He produces a crisp c-note from a jacket pocket and tosses it onto the bar. "Drink and be merry. It's on me." Then he waves lazily and departs, probably to meet his doom.

"Hmmm!" Once Jack leaves, Gwen reaches forward to pick up the 100 dollar bill and snaps it. Definitely seems real. Now that's what she was after. "Excellent." Downing the last of her martini, she orders another and puts the bill right back down onto the bar. "What a nice man. What was his name again?" she asks Yael.

Sliding the bill back over in front of her more, Yael gives Gwen a pointed look. "His name is Jack," she replies, waving down the bartender so that she can get a refill on her own drink, as well. "And he isn't a very nice man." Still, there's something culpable and rueful about her tone. "Only sometimes." When her drink arrives, she gestures to Gwen as she hands the bill directly to the bartender. "For both." To Gwen, then: "You were listening, were you?"

Her new drink in front of her, Gwen starts munching on the olives left over from her last one. "Honey, a guy who drops 100 bucks on two girls for drinks is a-okay in my book. Nice is overrated." Dropping the toothpick onto the bar, she turns a little so that she can see Yael. It's the first time she's really looked at the other woman. "Some, yeah. Only when it got interesting, though."

"It did get to be that." Yael can't help but feel bad, given how the night unfolded, and her remorse is plainly obvious given the speed at which she's knocking back her second drink. "I wonder if he caught up with her." There's a frown on her face, and she considers the back of the bar briefly. "She shouldn't be so quick to judge. I was trying to get the cougar off his back."

"Either way, we're covered for the night," Gwen takes a long sip of her martini and then holds it up in demonstration for Yael. "Take a big drink and forget them. All these lover quarrels bore the hell out of me. Find something interesting to do with your time. Get a hobby."

Smirking faintly, at that, Yael takes another long sip of her drink before she snickers quietly. "This is why I don't date," she explains, amusement tempering her words. "Too much trouble, not enough reward. You're right." Another sip, and her drink is suddenly half gone. This does not bode well for the evening. "I need a hobby." Slanting a look towards Gwen, she asks, "What's your hobby?"

Smirking, Gwen doesn't respond right away as she's drinking from that martini again and not about to stop just to answer a question. Setting the glass back down onto the bar, she pushes her blonde hair off of her shoulder. "Rich men." It's not dating and there's less trouble. Then she grins, as if what she just said was a joke. "And baking."

Yael isn't in any rush with this conversation, and she doesn't seem like the impatient type as Gwen takes her time to respond. "Well." She's not entirely sure what to say to that, in all honesty, so she opts for taking a long sip of her own drink, as well. Hers is significantly less classy than the other woman's martini. "That's one option. Or two, if you count the baking. I don't do either of those."

"Baking's easy," Gwen laughs. With her drinks already paid for, she doesn't feel the need to search around the room for any other guy companions. Talking to Yael is interesting. "Sugar, flour, eggs, cake." She snaps her fingers. "Just like that. Men are the same."

"If you say so," Yael remarks, raising her shoulders in a helpless shrug. "I'll trust you. You look like you know more about men than I do." It occurs to her only after she's raised her glass for another sip just how unkind her remark sounds, and she chokes a little as she swallows quickly. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. What I meant is: I wouldn't really know. You sound like you would." Glancing back down at the drinks, and the hundred dollar bill, Yael smirks. "If all I have to do to get him to pay for my drinks is piss off his girlfriend, though, I'll do it more often."

Gwen doesn't seem at all displeased at Yael's statement. "Why thank you." She, in fact, takes it to be a compliment. "Best thing someone's said to me since that Jack fella told us 'that should cover our drinks.'" Holding out a hand, Gwen introduces herself. "I'm Grant." Sort of. Yup, that bartender is still there and she's not about to give anything away.

"Grant?" It's an interesting name, certainly, and Yael seems surprised to hear that it's the woman's name. But it could be a nickname, she decides, or her last name; rather than remarking on how uncommon it is, she smiles to the woman and takes her hand, shaking it. "Yael. Nice to meet you." She considers the other woman for a few seconds. "When you're not getting rich men to buy your drinks or baking cupcakes, what do you do?"

"Mm-hmm." Gwen doesn't seem at all bothered by the fact that she's giving Grant's name out as her own. "Yael. That's an interesting name." While Yael may be more internal with her questions, Gwen is not. When asked what else she does, Gwen pauses to think that one over. Is there anything else to do in the day? "Hm." She's still thinking, give her a moment. A long drink of her martini and she has it. "Shop, I guess. What do you do?"

When paired with her accent, in fact, her name is likely to peg her as a foreigner, at least for many of her formative years. Yael smiles again, ducking her head slightly. "It's a Hebrew name," she explains, rolling her shoulders in a shrug. "Jewish." The woman's hesitance or uncertainty over what she does seems to amuse Yael, and she watches Gwen with a curious stare. "I'm a journalist. I write for a newspaper."

"Pretty," Gwen admits. There are enough foreigners that it's hard for her to keep track where everyone is from. "So you're Jewish, huh? Cool. I knew a lot of Jewish kids growing up." As for her profession, she just nods. "A journalist. Nice. I was never really all that interested in the news. Seemed so fake, you know?"

"It is, sometimes," Yael admits, her tone sincere. "Most of the time it only tells part of the truth. It depends on where you go for news." She doesn't bother mentioning that her little community paper that she writes for really doesn't do much by way of real reporting. Not as far as she's concerned. "And then you have the tabloids. Those are different." Downing the rest of her drink in one go, she slides what's left of the money over to Gwen. "I should get going. Jack might need rescuing."

There's no mistaking the fact that Gwen's eyes light up when the money is slid over her way. "It was a /pleasure/ meeting you, Yael." Especially because the remainder of the money is hers to drink away. "Good luck with that. I think if they can't rescue themselves they need to be tossed back. Maybe I'll see you 'round town." Town being a city of millions of people, that doesn't phase her.

Yael doesn't admit that the real reason why she passed the money over was because she was concerned Gwen might throw some kind of fit if she didn't. She's kinder than that, even if the woman did call herself a gold digger. "You too, Grant," she replies, her smile genuine as she slides off the barstool. "Try not to get too drunk." Because with quite so much money left, it would be very, very easy to. At that, she starts to weave her way through the tables, headed for the door.

Gwen is not about to throw a fit in a crowded bar. Not on only three martinis. It'd take quite a few more to get to that. But, then, she /would/ pout at Yael were she to pocket it all for herself. "Oh, don't worry. I'm quite resilient. Good luck on your rescue mission." Gwen stays right where she's seated. It's likely she won't ac

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