Summary:A beer and small talk. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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It's not yet quite evening, those odd hours that are between afternoon and evening. The redhead will push into the bar, with a quick dart of a glance over her shoulder. She's got her guitar case in hand, held carefully, as she urges the door to shut more quickly. She hot foots it towards the bar, apparently not at all concerned that the bar is quiet and sparsely patroned at this hour.
She sets the case down to gently lean against the bar, as careful as if it was china. Red hair is waving over the shoulders of her weathered denim jacket she's wearing over an army green v-neck t-shirt. Her shirt is neatly tucked into her darker wash jeans, and slightly scuffed boots. She's reaching into her pocket for money, aqua eyes glancing at the door again, before looking over the bar.
Behind the bar the large owner of the establishment whistles a bit of a tune as he works polishing one of the many beer mugs in the rack in front of him.
Maybe it is the movement, or maybe the flash of fiery red hair that draws his attention, but Luke glance up and over at the redhead as she enters, watching his as she moves to take a seat.
"Afternoon." he says, a smile forming on his face as he makes his move over towards her end of the bar. "What can I get for you?"
Those bright eyes look up…and up some more, before her face breaks into a warm smile. "Hi. Just a beer, please." She eases up onto the stool next to her guitar case, before she's putting a few rumpled bills on the bar.
She runs a hand through her hair, before she's slipping out of her jean jacket to hang it handily against her guitar case. Hands will land on the bar, fingers tracing over the old wood. "This is a great little place." She sounds like she means it, as she takes in the exposed brass pipes, the faux oil lamps. "So much better than those places that are all metal and glass." The southern accent deepens a bit as she makes a face.
"Thanks. I try to keep it old school in here." says Luke with a smile as he moves to grab a clean mug from the rack. "Any particular kind of beer you want, or just whatever I decide to pour?"
Stepping away from the counter, Luke looks like he is wearing his typical getup of jeans and a t-shirt that is defying the strain put against it from the musculature of the man. "If you don't have a preference, I recommend the Brooklyn Pilsner."
"You succeed. It reminds me of some of the places just off campus back home." There's another smile, a glance back at the door one last time before she seems to visibly relax. She will pick up the dollar bills, straightening them and making them all face the same way.
"I don't have much of a preference, really. So long as I'm not expected to talk about the notes of flavors and the hoppiness or whatever."
Luke Cage smirks and shakes his head, "Nah. I'm much more of a drink whatever you like kind of guy, not a beer snob. Life is to short to waste it on being pretentious." He pours a beer from one of the taps, and slides it in front of Riley.
As she looks back to the door for a moment, Luke's own eyes show a hint of question as he asks, "Everything ok, Miss?"
Riley will slide her money over, as he slides the mug in front of her. "Thank you." Then she's looking up again, eyes wide. "Hmm? Oh, everything's fine. I just thought someone was following me, earlier. One of those creepy feelings on the back of your neck?" Her hand lifts, sliding under her hair to rub at her neck, then slides down to rest on the bar again. "Was probably imagining things."
She's smiling again, bright and warm and apparently about to change the subject "You can call me Riley, if you prefer. I'm not used to Miss anymore, since I moved north."
Glancing again towards the door, Luke nods slightly. "You're not the first person that has ever come in here looking for a respite. If you see the guy, let me know."
Luke returns to his task of wiping down glasses, leaning against the back bar as he does so. "Luke. Luke Cage. This is my place, Riley. Please, take your time. If you want, I can call you a cab or something so you don't have to worry about a creep outside."
"Well, I really wanted a beer, so it all sort of fell into place." The redhead jokes lightly before she picks up the mug for a couple cooling swallows. "Busking is thirsty work, especially in the subway. All the fumes." Her nose wrinkles, before she's laughing lightly at herself.
There's a smile for Luke. "If I see him, I promise to take it outside. I wouldn't want to bust anything up in here. I'd just ask you keep an eye on my guitar. I don't want anything to happen to it." She'll shake her head, picking up the mug again. "I figure I was just imagining it. I'm sure whoever it is, is already long gone."
Luke Cage nods as he eyes the door again. "Don't worry about the place, if it comes down to it I will take him outside on my own. Figment of your imagination or not, you're safe in here."
Turning his gaze towards the guitar, Luke nods. "Do you make a lot busking?"
"Now, I couldn't be asking you to handle my troubles." There's the thickening accent again, as Riley smiles down into her beer. "Daddy didn't raise no mealy-mouthed wimp."
There's a chuckle, before she's glancing up at him, then at her guitar case. "I do all right. Depends on the day and the weather, the where, that sort of thing. Subways are good on days the weather is iffy, don't want to get my guitar soaked in rain water." She shrugs. "It helps keep me in food and drink better than Ramen and dollar store soda?"
"Yeah, well, Mama didn't raise me to sit on my haunches when someone else was in trouble either, so we will just have to agree to disagree on that point." Luke says with a bit of a chuckle. "Besides, if people are bringing trouble into my bar, then it becomes my problem."
He glances over towards the little stage in the corner, "You know, I've started doing a couple of nights of live music recently. If you are ever looking to get out of the subway, you could always set up here for a night."
She laughs again, before taking another sip. "This is where my father would make the joke that I am trouble. Old myths about redheads and all." Those eyes are full of amusement. "But I'm good with agreeing to disagree."
Her eyes slide over to look at the stae in the corner. "Like you do open mic nights, or you have people come in and do a full set?" She asks, before there's a grin. "You don't even know if I can sing."
Luke Cage shrugs a shoulder. "I never said you had to sing, I just said it was live music. I assume if you are busking for a living you can play the guitar at least somewhat decently. As far the setup, it's a work in progress. The only act I have had so far is our blind cook. He has some talent."
He glance back towards Riley and chuckles, "Oh, I am not so sure they are myths."
She's sipping more of her beer, a chuckle. "Well, it's not totally for a living. I'm finishing up college, and well, I hate being the broke girl." She looks at the stage again. "I make more money singing than just playing." There's a shrug with it.
"Pssht. All myths. I am neither witch or vampire, and I can't steal your soul." She's laughing again, as she spins her mug around on the bar. "Your blind cook? Man, stuff like that fascinates me. Cook and musician. I'm pretty much music. I can cook, but not for a living."
Reaching over to pick up his glass of water, Luke takes a sip. "Yeah, what about the temper? Or the…other rumors." he says with a bit of a smirk. "I don't buy it, rumors tend to have a basis in truth, so something has to be true."
"Yeah, Hod isn't here right now, but he is our cook. He took my menu and definitely made improvements, and turns out he isn't a bad musician either. But if your interested, there doesn't have to be any formality to it. Just show up and if I am not here tell the staff that I said you can use the stage to busk. I'll leave a note. If you don't want to, you don't have to. If you turn out to sing like my grandmother I just will rescind the invitation."
Riley will put on her most innocent face. "Do I strike you as a woman with a terrible temper?" Then there is just the faintest tug upwards at one corner of her mouth. "I don't lose it often, but when I do.." Then she tips her head. "Other rumors? Likely not."
"It's very kind of you. I might stop by some night and see how it goes." She lifts her eyebrows. "Your grandma can't sing, I take it?" There's another threat of a smile. "I've had lessons, and gotten some artsy scholarships. I promise not to sound like an alleycat in heat with its head stuck in a tin can."
Luke Cage chuckles, sipping at his water. "Well, then I will do my best not to get on your bad side. Sometimes those slow to anger explode the worst. They keep it bottled up until they just explode."
"My Grandmother couldn't sing herself out of a wet paper bag if her life depended on it. Tone def and as flat as the great plains. If you are even marginally better I am sure you will do fine."
Riley finishes her beer, before she gives him a long once over. "I somehow don't think even me angry would scare you, honey." She grins, adding a couple more bills to the top of the bar. "The beer hit the spot. Thanks. I'll see you around some night, when I stop in, all right?"
She will slide off her stool to start slipping back into her jean jacket and gather up her guitar case.
Luke Cage rolls a shoulder into a shrug, "Probably not. I've been on the wrong end of a woman's wraith before. Walked through the fire and made it out alive and all that, but still it isn't something I like to bring down upon myself if I don't need to, ya know?"
He gathers up the empty beer mug and places it in the rack to be washed, then takes the bills over to the till and rings up the sale. "Alright, Riley. Be safe out there, and if your feeling turns out to be something more than just a feeling you come on back. At the very least I can call you a cab."
Riley will wave. "I'm sure it'll be fine. You have a good night!" She'll slip on back out to the sidewalk.