2007-07-06: This One's On The House


Gwen_icon.gif Saint_icon.gif

Summary: Gwen is introduced to Sainthood.

Date It Happened: July 6th, 2007

This One's On The House

Club DnA

Late evening in Club DnA and it's a little more clear after some earlier incident involving roofies. Gwen doesn't know anything about that and, somehow, doesn't actually care. More room and alcohol for her! Dressed in a tight pink number, she's taking advantage of the less than full dance floor. A tall drink that matches her dress is half gone and held up above her head to keep it out of harms way. Enjoying the scene, she sways and dances to the music,

Maybe he likes to make an entrance. Maybe he just wanted to make himself look good. Or maybe, just maybe, he's casing the joint. Anybody that's nobody knows Saint Templar when he walks through the door. He doesn't seem to have any female companions with him, which is a good thing. Soon enough, though, he's fending for himself at the bar. Trying to get a drink ordered. But, considering his normal looking self, the bartender seems to keep passing him over. With a slight frown, Saint moves and ducks under the entrance, sliding himself behind the bar so that he can fix his own drink.

The song ends and something not quite as fun to dance to comes on. Gwen downs the last of her drink and she makes her way to the bar. It's not the last bartender that she ordered from right in front of her, oh no, it's Saint. Of course, she doesn't know that he's not a bartender. Knocking on the bar, she slides over her empty glass to him. "Hey, can I get a refill on my Seabreeze?" It's a girly drink, but she's a girly girl. There's no shame in that. A girl can't exist entirely on martinis, after all.

In the midst of making his own drink, Saint's approached by some not-too-shabby girl that's trying to get a Seabreeze. He sets his own glass down and grabs a towel from off the rack and tosses it on his shoulder to look more like a bartender. "You got it." is tossed at Gwen, before he turns around to the liquor. He doesn't hesitate at all, grabbing at a couple bottles and definitely not grabbing the right things. But it mixes well and turns out to be pink. Which is what the color was in the first place. It's also all top-shelf stuff so… it's pretty damn strong. Hope she's not a lightweight. "Here you go." is said as he slips back towards the bar and sets the glass down.

It's about this time that the bartender turns around and blinks at Saint. "Hey, man. Tony said take fifteen. You been at it all night. I'll cover you." The bartender blinks, not really sure, but just… y'know… a fifteen minute break? Not turning that one down. And he's heading right out from behind the bar.

Either not caring or not noticing the exchange or the fact that Saint has no idea what he's doing. Taking the drink, she drops a twenty onto the bar to cover her drink and her tips. She takes a long swig of it, apparently not caring about the strange upping of the alcohol content. This woman certainly is no lightweight. "Thanks. Best Seabreeze I've had inside the Manhattan." Of course, there were some great bars in Las Vegas that made a killer Seabreeze, but she's not going to go into that.

"Would you believe that's the first one I've ever made?" Saint remarks, taking the towel off his shoulder and wiping down the bar. That's something that he sees bartenders do in the movies all the time. He might as well get it going to make sure he looks the part. "But if all you've had is drinks from Manhattan, we seriously need to get you out more." Oh, the bartender's life. Talking to customers like they've been friends with them for years.

"Mmmm. Nope, I definitely wouldn't believe it." Gwen takes another sip of her drink and then sets it down on the bar so that she can talk. Maybe she can sweet-talk a few free drinks out of him. Smiling sweetly, she just shakes her head. "Oh, if only. I've traveled a fair bit." So that compliment is something of a modified one. "And I think I do fine with getting out." After all, she's out on a Sunday night. "I should say the same to you, working late hours and all."

Saint still hasn't even touched the twenty that's been placed on the bar. In fact, he's just doing the leaning thing to try and look down Gwen's top. Somewhat blatantly, but not. He's not a complete crude dude, that's for damn sure. "I'd certainly like to get you out myself. And I would if I wasn't working." He pauses and a look of realization comes over his face. "Oh, that's right. I don't work here." He tosses the towel off to the side and grabs the twenty dollar bill, his glass and moves off towards getting around the bar. He stops behind Gwen and leans in to whisper. "Thanks for the tip." And there he goes, off to go mingle in the crowd.

That comment gets the raised eyebrow and a surprised look out of Gwen. "Oh really now?" Swiveling around on her stool as he takes her money and then goes off into the crowd, she looks back at the empty bar. Not one to let an opportunity pass, she leans over, grabs one of the bottles of vodka while no one's there to stop her and then picks up her drink and heads to go find the lovely little liar. Sticking the stolen bottle into her purse, she shoulders that and goes back to guarding her drink from those dancing bodies that fling themselves in directions that are not always easy to judge. Finding Saint, she sidles up behind him and whispers just as coyly, "I always pay well for a good drink."

Gwen's twenty dollar bill isn't the only thing that's missing. When the Bartender gets back sometime later this evening, he'll find that the register has been cleaned out. What a bad night he's going to have.

Saint finds himself being sidled up from behind and makes sure to spin around and see the girl coming. He's not about to let her get the drop on him. For her twenty bucks back. "I'll bet you do." he offers with a smile that gives him that charming demeanor that gets him out of all the trouble he gets into. "But, I'm off the clock now. Which means I'm no longer accepting cash…" Oh no. Whatever else could he be accepting?

Whatever it is that he may be accepting, Gwen keeps a firm grip on her purse. She's given him all the cash that he's going to get from her tonight. At least knowingly. "Off the clock from the job that you never had? Well isn't that something?" The smile she'll take and maybe that's all for now. She's not below petty theft, as Jessica can attest to. "No cash, huh? Well, whatever could you be accepting? And who's to say that I'm buying?" She takes a small sip of her drink and raises her eyebrows at Saint.

Smiling, Saint reaches out to set his glass down and offers to take her and set it down on the table also. Whether or not she gives up her glass, he's definitely reaching out with his other hand to offer it to her. "All I want to do is…. dance, dance." Yes, he just went there with the old school song reference, but he spins it with his silver tongue to see if he can't get his charming claws into this girl.

Dancing? Well, Gwen likes dancing, however, she does get a little nervous when Saint tries to take her glass from her. Pulling it back, she'll put it down herself, thank you very much. "Man, you're lucky that my weakness is dancing." Because that lame line gets him a raised eyebrow, but she /does/ put her drink down and hides her purse somewhere where no one will try and snag it. "Well then, let's see if you've got moves better than your lines."

Saint's eyes are on her drink and her purse as she tries to get the hide of that thing on. But that's only after he's started waltzing her to the dance floor. He's got good eyes and that's one thing he tends to do. Be observant. He's had lessons in almost every style of dancing imaginable… or at least in how to fake it. Thus he's quite intent on shaking his groove thing to show off for this skeptical female version of him.

Being a pickpocket, Gwen knows the scene, so she's not going to let her purse or drink much out her sight. Even if she is being twirled and twisted in pleasant manner. She's got to hand it to the man, he knows his moves. Or he can improvise well enough that she doesn't care. So, she let's him lead and gives a grin. "You're not half bad." A compliment of a sort. "But do you tango?"

"I do a little bit of everything." Saint says, feeling the music and cutting a rug out of the dance floor with his moves. People are going to have to stop and stare or something. By coincidence the song switches up to something of Tango-ish proportions and he definitely decides he's going to have to step into some Tango shoes. He's never really done it before, but he's about to fake the holy hell out of this. "Can you keep up?"

"Oh you do?" Gwen smiles a cat-like grin at him and moves into a dip. "I'm sure I can take whatever you throw at me, sugar." And while /she/ may never have tangoed, either, she manages to keep up with the fake tango that she's being thrown by Saint. Of course, that may be because it's easier to follow than to lead, but it's fun to pretend. "So, you bartend, you tango, and you can sort of waltz. Is there anything you don't do?"

"Windows." Another cheesy line, but this time it's accompanied by a goofy smile to show that he knows he's being cheesy. He keeps an eye on where Gwen stashed her purse and starts to dance in that direction. Definitely doing the leading for no particular reason other than the fact that he's a good ass dancer. He pulls her in close and wraps his arms around her. "Hope you're wearing the right shoes. We've got a spin coming up." He talks as if he's been doing the Tango for years.

"Darlin', if I'm wearing them, then they're the right shoes." Gwen tells the younger man as she presses against him before the spin. She's confident and a little arrogant, but that's because it's yet to let her down. Also, she knows that she's got a good body, why not use it? "And I bet you'd do windows under the right circumstances." Though she may notice that they're dancing back to where the drinks and her purse is, she doesn't think anything odd about it. Who knows, he may be thirsty.

"Then let's do it." Saint murmurs, stepping up the speed with the dancing and slipping his finger into a groove on her top, so that when he spins her, things may happen to help cause a distraction so that he may yoink the purse! Which is what he's planning on happening, especially since a small crowd is gathering, watching their fake ass tango performance… in all of its good glory. He moves in and out and pulls back, before extending the arm to send her across the dance floor in a spin that may or may not test the cheapness of her attire.

"I'm all yours." Gwen, however, isn't a doe-eyed girl caught up in the moment. She catches that feel on her top and she can tell that's where he's moving toward. So, when he goes for the spin, she ducks and twirls in her own attempt to both execute the move and keep from getting pick pocketed. The spin goes off quite well and the pair even get a smattering of applause from those onlookers, but the blonde woman can only grin at Saint as she moves closer to him again. "Nice try."

He wasn't even trying to pickpocket. He was trying to strip her. But that didn't work out too well. Which means he's going to have to work a different angle. "I was just keeping you on your toes. There's all sorts of bad men out here. Most of them I went to high school with." There. He's talked his way out of looking like the worst thief ever, when he wasn't even trying to steal anything. "Time for the grand finale…" And this time, he does his dancing to lead them in the direction of another couple dancing nearby and the drinks in their hand. A small collision could cause Gwen to be drenched in whatever they're having!

Either way, he failed at it. Gwen raises an eyebrow at his excuse, probably not believing him. Whether he was going to strip her or steal from her, she's most likely not going to enjoy it unless it's in the privacy of one of their homes. While she's snarking, however, she doesn't notice that she's about to be danced right into that couple. So the grand finale ends up with her drenched in alcohol. If it was something she could actually drink off of herself, she wouldn't be annoyed. However, it's just the 'make her soaked' variety and she splutters. "Hey! Watch where you're spinning!" she snaps at the couple. Because, truly, it was their fault.

The good thing about Saint is that he never sticks around long enough to get in trouble. He's not where she is with the getting soaked and while she's dealing with that, he's left the table and moved onto disappearing. Whether or not he's in the crowd or he's left the building isn't really noticeable, but if she takes a gander at where her stuff was stashed… it's gone.

It will be a very bad thing when Gwen find Saint. After getting soaked and turning to find her dancing partner nowhere, she goes to go get her drink and her things to find…they're not there. "That son of a bitch!" She swears, looking around the dance floor, toward the bar, but she doesn't find him in the crowd. To be certain, she doesn't waste much time in trying, either. She'll give it to him this time, but next time she sees him, she's getting all of her stuff back. And he's buying her a bottle of vodka to replace the one that she stole from the bar.

Somebody on the staff comes over to Gwen, holding out the bottle of Vodka. "This is for you." There's been a small note attached to it.
Here. This one's on the house. — The Saint.'

Puzzled, Gwen takes the bottle and then checks the note. "Smooth bastard," she sighs. Stuffing the note down her somewhat damp bra, she frowns, but doesn't give the wait staff more than a glance. "Thanks, buddy." Looks like she's had enough fun here for the moment. On her way out, she ducks down and snags another woman's purse. What, she's going to walk the twenty or so blocks back home? No no. This way she's at least got cab money.

The member of the wait staff watches as Gwen leaves the club. It's not until she's gone, does he smile a bit deviously, reaching up to peel the mustache off of his face to reveal… The Saint.

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