2007-05-28: New Kid Blues


Trina_icon.gif Ryan_icon.gif

Summary:Trina serves up a few drinks to a slightly depressed Ryan.

Date It Happened:May 28, 2007

New Kid Blues

Den of Iniquity

It's half past eight on a Wednesday evening at the Den of Iniquity, and all is well. At least, it is according to the relatively new face who stands behind the bar, guarding the precious glass bottles that stand proudly on the shelves behind her.
Trina's grown more accustomed to her new working space and, with that acclimation, comes greater speed. Wiping the counter down with a rag, the girl in the black capris and heeled Mary Janes doesn't seem to take a moment to slow down or talk beyond more than what she should. New job jitters, perhaps.

Ryan comes walking into the bar. The look on his face is a bit tense, but his posture is relaxed. He stands out from the usual customer base here with his college-prep clothing and hair, but he doesn't seem to be concerned with that right now. He walks up to he bar and smiles a bit at the novelty of it's construction before taking a seat and waiting for the bartender to get to him.

Making her way to the new arrival, Trina leans onto the bar as she slides a cocktail napkin down. The brunette lifts herself once to let her black tank top pop back up to the neckline's more appropriate cut, gives a look down to make sure her cleavage is mostly covered, and then turns her attention back up. "Heya!" she greets with a warm smile and an accent warmed by Georgia sunshine… although the latter has faded a great deal in her time on Yankee soil. "Name's Trina. What can I do you for this evenin'?"

Ryan gives a tight-lipped smile and a nod to Trina. "Hey, just a pint of Guinness."

Pushing herself up, Trina gives a nod. "Comin' right up." And with that, she sways her way over to the tap in order to pull a glass. Once it's done, the pilsner is set in front of Ryan atop the previously mentioned cocktail napkin. Planting her hands backwards on the counter with elbows facing each other, she offers another warm smile. "There we are. That'll come to six even, or you wanna open a tab?"

Ryan takes a quick sip to mull it over before answering. "I guess I'll run a tab for now," he replies. Maybe a bit gruffly.

"Tab it is," Trina agrees amiably, voice actively used to try to soothe whatever seems to be the trouble. She didn't miss that tone of voice. No, sir. "Anythin' else I can do for you?"

Ryan bites his lower lip for a moment then relaxes and gives Trina a genuine smile. "Nothing right now, thanks. And I'm sorry about the 'tude. I just moved here and I'm having a rougher time than I thought I would. Nothing major, just New Kid blues, I guess. And my name's Ryan."

Thrusting out her slender, long-fingered, and altogether cool hand towards the customer with no reservation, the bartender grins back. "Trina," she offers easily enough as she prepares to give his hand a good, solid, single shake. "And hey, you aren't yellin', and you're in a bar. A case of the grumps is totally allowed. Where you from?"

Ryan shakes Trina's hand and takes another drink. "San Francisco, or near enough, anyways. I'm transferring to NYU for the fall semester and decided to get a jump on settling in out here."

"Hope you brought a coat," the girl replies with a laugh, setting her hands to preparing more garnish pieces. As she carefully chops through a lemon, she chats. She understands being awash in a sea of foreign faces. Friendly ones are hard to come by. Idle conversation also just happens to be the unspoken raison d'etre of good bartenders. "It gets colder'n a witch's titties up this way. Tell you what, that was one *hell* of a surprise when I got up here. I thought they'd be shipping me home as an ice cube for sure."

Ryan chuckles and snorts at Trina's terminology. " 'Colder than a a witch's tittie', huh? I haven't heard that one since my grandpa died. And I don't think you've heard Mark Twain's lament: 'The coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco.'." He takes another few drinks of his beer. "So, where are you from is the seasons here are such a culture shock to you?"

"South," Trina replies, not really expanding upon the idea beyond a determination of how far. "Deep South." Deftly moving to pick up an abandoned glass and cash two seats down, the dark haired young woman continues. "Coldest it ever got was the dead of February. I had to put on a sweatshirt. First winter here, I remember trying to walk up a hill in Chelsea and having to turn around because the wind was blowin' so hard that I couldn't get more'n a step past the building. 'd never seen anything like it."

Ryan smiles and chuckles, finishing his beer. "I don't know if I'd mind the snow so much. I've always enjoyed going to the mountains and skiing and stuff here. But I guess that's a far cry from actually living in it. At least I have the common sense to realize that I should leave my car back home."

"Ugh. Snow's the worst, but the trains ain't so bad. They'd be better if they didn't reek of piss all the time." And now is why we remember why Trina so sorely misses her poor Mustang, still in the car hospital at Ron's. Sad sigh for Baby. Finally turning away, she goes to put things where they belong. "But still. Good for you, school and all. Whatcha gonna be studying?"

Ryan sits back in the chair,feeling more relaxed. "Pre-med. Probably going to specialize in genetics at this point. It's kinda been a long time coming, but I'm looking at moving out here as a chance to start over and get things right. And I'm glad for the chance. Not many people get the kinds of opportunities I have and I'm finally going to make full use of them."

"Never had a head for all that…" Trina stops herself short before she spits out an unpleasant word, quickly switching gears. "Stuff." Stuff's a good word. "Guess that's why you're shapin' up to be a doctor, and I'm pullin' beer." There. That little verbal land mine carefully avoided, she then offers a small, nervous chuckle. "So, you here often? I just started myself, so I'm still learnin' faces and names."

Ryan smiles. "Nah, this is my first time here. Although I might start becoming a regular. It's a bit out of the way for me, I live on the East Side, but I like bars with atmosphere." He nods to the empty glass. "Plus, you know how to serve Guinness. Most places I've been to serve it cold and charge 2 buck more than you do."

"S'all Jack," Trina replies with a sheepish grin. "Leave it to an Irishman to know how to drink beer and make a livin' doin' it." Arms stretching upwards lazily, one hand reaches up idly to fluff the long dark hair, pulled back by a thick black plastic headband, before she continues. "Can't lay any claim to the know-how. He's the brains." Even though he'd probably hang himself with Belfast linen before he'd drink Guinness when there's Rolling Rock to be had. She wisely doesn't mention that, however. She simply picks up the pilsner glass and gives it a playful tilt. "'nother?"

Ryan smiles and nods. "Sure." He looks around the bar for a bit. "Yeah, not a bad little place to knock back a few. Your boss know' what he's doing here."

"I'm fond of 'im," Trina replies, secretive little smile still pulling at her lips even as she bites at the lower one once she's turned around. In her hands is a fresh glass to mete out another portion. "He's good folk." Turning back around, she continues smiling. "But if you're ever pressed for a spot on the Lower East Side, dive called Della Rosa isn't too bad. Owners are two of the sweetest folk you could hope to meet. Tell 'em I sent you, and they'll take good care of you."

Ryan smiles and starts in on his second drink. "Thanks for the advice. Maybe I'll end up a sucessful transplant here yet."

"You just might," Trina agrees with a nod filled with false solemnity. Then there's a wink as she lightly pats the counter. "I'll be back to check on you. Try not to get lost in that glass, 'kay?" And with that, she grabs a rag and a dish tub, sets one inside the other, props it on her hip, and wanders off. Time to make the rounds.

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