black paw

      “Well done. I feel challenged and a little shamed, but I won’t waste a good beer before I take you up on that concoction,” he grinned, pulling the bottle closer, and raising it for a thankful toast.  "Do you always pressure patrons into drinking more, drinking harder? Isn’t the saying ‘drink responsibly’ something you advocate?”

“ONLY IF I think they can take it.” It was obvious how German this patron was. It was either the shape of his face, the accent, or the look in his eye but Bishop knew that a German had the ability to drink. “I don’t advocate anything responsible, personally. Though I think you’re tidal-locked into the beer for know. Something about a poem and beer before liquor getting sick and all.”

      A few more hushed coughs and her pipes were in working order, slowly reaching for the glass again. “If you have experience then you know the sweeping generalization of those who drink long island’s.” Second time was the charm, get back in the saddle, whatever idiom that worked Sawyer brought the glass back to her lips for another slow drink. It didn’t help much, and she grimaced when the alcohol scorned her again, but it was with expectation and a deep inhale to follow. “So does that mean if I flirt with you I’ll get a free drink?”

BISHOP COULDN’T help but laugh at the sputters and coughs. What was more, she reached for the glass once more after heaving her lungs out. Glutton for punishment. He could admire that. “That they want to get completely wasted as fast as possible? Or they’re cheap because they want a quick buzz off of low grade liquor? You know they make top-shelf long island’s right?” His elbows came to rest on the edge of the counter one space down from the petite blonde. It seemed as if Bishop’s grin was permanent tonight. “Want to try and find out?”

Rey laughed softly, shaking her head “Ruza? She’d be after my head on a pike more than yours if that happened honestly.” she imagined the doctors stern disappointed face and smiled again, holding back another chuckle. “Are you new in town? I haven’t seen you before” she accepted the drink with a bright smile and pulled out her card to pay.

“DIDN’T CATCH her name. Bad at names.” That was a lie. He was excellent at names and faces but he hadn’t bothered to pay mind this time when he was escorted into the clinic for his lecture. “New-ish. Came after your big bad whatever and sort of peddled around for a while. Decided to work to pass the time until the next big bad whatever.”

He had to appreciate the fact that the guy was blatantly saying he wasn’t going to throw Kris under the bus, but that didn’t mean that he was going to trust the guy completely. Kris found it hard to trust people with more than a handful of things. He had before, and it got him fucked into a hole.  “That’s good to know. My name’s Kris.”  He offered a hand to him, cold.

HIS OWN handshake was stern. The sound of their palms meeting was a dull thud and the obligatory squeeze that came with a strong token of introduction. “Bishop. Non-religious.” The slight chill that lingered when the handshake broke off was amusing. He’d never held the blood-favoring supernaturals any ill will, but he supposed he never had a reason to either. There was always an implication that he should but...Bishop was never one for implications.

She could definitely see why the patrons liked him. The guy was dripping in charm. Tori even laughed for a brief moment and wrinkled her nose at him for finding a target in her choice of drink.  “Don’t you know that’s where all my sass and good looks comes from?”  A flip of her hair over her shoulder, overly exaggerated for shits and giggles, she started wiping down the bar for the night.

“I THOUGHT that most women inherited their evil from their mothers.” It was a joke. The softer rumble of a laugh in his chest was the marker for the joke but he often caught flack for even those. People were too sensitive nowadays. Maybe he was just old-fashioned but either way he had a feeling she’d at least feign hurt at the remark...if she did at all.

It was like watching everything falling on deaf ears. A pile of her words were bumbling around on the floor and the woman just stared at him with a blank look on her face. She wondered if he thought he was slick or afraid with his words, though she could all but see the way he started building a wall around himself.  "Oh, yes. I have a crystal ball in my office that I look into before each patient. It tells me exactly which spiel they’re going to ignore.“  A smile flit across her lips, all too pretty for just a doctor that was sick of preaching to walls.  "You’re all set. See you next time someone drags your unconscious ass back in here.”  Standing up as she spoke, she opened the curtains for him.

THERE WAS no wall to build. Bishop didn’t know the woman and felt less inclined to listen to her advice just because of her profession. While he’d never once been sorry for the choices he’d made in his life he also couldn’t respect those who felt their words weighed more heavily because they chose a path that more respected. If he had a wound he’d seek medical attention. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him he was an alcoholic, or that he should stop it any time soon. However his expression didn’t flicker or fade from the pleasant smile that had been there, though it seemed a little amused too. “You still weave the yarn though. That’s dedication.” With a clap of his hands Bishop stood to match. He had to fight not to chuckle. “I’ll pay anyone who can actually carry me here. Even if it is just dragging.”

“Give me the whiskey and we’re onto a winner.” He was right she wasn’t exactly on a sightseeing tour of the bar, Alice found that sometimes it was nice to drink outside the comfort of her own home sometimes. “Bourbon is only for when the whiskey has run out.”

“WELL IT’S better than a loser, that’s for sure.” It always made him smile when people ordered whiskey. There was a small sense of self within the patron at that moment. It usually faded faster than it stayed but it made the more honest of his jobs seem worth it. When he returned to the woman it was with a glass of whiskey and the bottle itself...intentions to refill her beverage already there. “Bourbon is also for when you feel a little classy.”

“Make it a bourbon. Bulleit, if you have any.” Thea shrugged “You can drink while you look, though.”

“BUT THE point still stands that you come to a bar to drink. Do whatever else you want while you do it, but to drink.” Bishop nodded as he accomplished his task. It only took a moment or two for two fingers worth of bourbon to appear before the woman. “Most people come to a bar to drink and get laid simultaneously. They still do it to drink.”

The woman wasn’t going to sit here and have a semantics discussion with him over the concept of someone dragging him back into the hospital again. There was the softest of smiled on her lips when she crossed one leg over the other anyway and allowed the conversation to fall away. He was oddly defensive over this, even when she wasn’t scolding him in order to change his ways. The man seemed happy where he was at and until she knew otherwise, he was fine.  "Dumb decisions are what life is all about. You’ll make them until long past your puppy years are over and you’re hitting geriatric. That I can promise you.“

IN ONE ear and out the other. This was not the first or last time Bishop had heard any variation of the conversation regarding his health and habits. It was always by people who feigned some level of caring about him and while he wasn’t terribly bothered by their distance it also meant he wouldn’t truly listen to them. “You a psychic too with these words or wisdom? Maybe I shoulda went to college. Earn magic powers too.” Of course he was teasing and that was part of the charm with him...though it was easily mistaken as dripping sarcasm as well. “Am I all set?”

He actually offered a laugh when the guy pointed out who would be the scapegoat if everything was about to go down. There was only one thing that stood in the way of that one: everyone knew that Kris didn’t care enough about anything to really do much harm to the city, itself. No point in arguing it.  "Just don’t go pointing fingers at me and I won’t drag your ass down with me, bro.“

“I’VE SPENT more time avoiding being tattled on than I ever have tattling. If someone blows a whistle on you it sure as shit ain’t gonna be me.” The thought of it was amusing though. Bishop had a nice and easy relationship with law enforcement: he avoided them at all costs. Even if he wasn’t doing something illegal he felt as if he were and thus it was easier not to involve himself. “So your secret’s safe with me.”

For a brief moment, she wondered about the simple answer. Some people came to look for a way out. They looked for the best way to forget the shit that haunted them. It didn’t matter all that much to Tori. All she did was provide that escape.  "Vodka’s fun. More open to possibilities of different things..“  It was a weird reason to like it, but she thought it was fun and kicky.  "Refined choice there, Bishop.”

“WHAT CAN I say? I’m a refined man.” The sarcasm was strong with him but it was enunciated with a smile. There was no fun in life if you couldn’t poke fun at yourself and Bishop was particularly talented at poking fun. “Vodka is what old rich women drink for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Screwdriver, Bloody Mary, and Cosmopolitan for the working woman.”

“That was not the getting caught I was talking about, Mr. Ashbourne.”  Though there was an amused look on her face for a moment, she managed to temper it down within a matter of moments. At least when he laughed, she knew that she hadn’t offended him. She felt that already, but it only solidified it when she had that wave coming at her. He only explained exactly what she meant in the first place and her head cocked to the side, allowing her dark hair to spill over her shoulders.  “One day you might consider slowing down. It would be good for your health.Plenty of health benefits from drinking less.”  She really wasn’t one to talk, honestly, but it was her job.

“GETTING CAUGHT and being found passed out are two different things, Doc. The former suggests there’s a punishment involved for doing something wrong. Getting wasted ain’t hurting anyone but myself and I heal pretty quick from the liquor’s damage. Perks of being a pup, you know.” He had to drink more than his weight in whiskey to get drunk...and then to stay drunk. The lectures were all things he’d heard before anyway and instead of taking them ill he just laughed again. “One day maybe. I’m still young in dog years. I’ve got time to make dumb decisions.”

Accepting the shot glass and plucking the lime from the skewer with her other hand, Persephone’s shoulders rose into a small shrug once more. “If I planned on getting wasted, I’d have ordered a much cheaper alcohol in a much larger quantity.” Tossing the shot back, she wasted no time in placing the lime in her mouth with a hum. “I’m alive, and today was a good day so I figured what the hell? Why not treat myself to something nice.”

“I WOULDN’T consider Patron to be an expensive liquor in the first place. Maybe a bit pricey but expensive suggests it’s worth the money and the flavor. It sure ain’t worth the latter.” One brow rose at her reason to drink but who was Bishop to judge? He certainly wasn’t as positive a woman as she was and he certainly found any reason at all to get himself drunk. “Another?”

“Hey, honesty is the best policy,” she laughed. “What’s your first, then?” She raised her glass, sipping now instead of downing it so quickly. She tried to figure that there was a little bubble around her. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to go from her home to such a public space. It was too late now for the maybe’s however, as she was already out and Winnie was never one to leave mid drinking session. “Good advice. I think I’ll take it.” She giggled as she finished the shot again, and pushed the glass forward. “What about margaritas? Could I have one of those?”

“I’M A sales man of sorts.” That was all he said on the matter but at least there was a charming smile added onto it. It wasn’t a lie. Bishop sold things to people but most of the time those things were lies: words, objects, false money...it didn’t matter and he’d done it all. Though here he was a simple bartender and it was nice to be something simple for once. “Any flavor margarita or just one of the basic ol’ boys?”

“Either one, really– whatever you think tastes best. See, I always say the same thing, but I still get teased for supposedly ‘having the drinking habits of a middle aged wine mom’.”

“ME? WHEN I go fruity in a drink I tend to go sour. Something with lemon or lime. Even that Midori can be pretty good if you like melon liquors. So are you drinking Beringer every night with dinner and explaining that it’s your serving of fruits and veggies for the day whenever someone mentions it? ‘Cause that’s what a wine mom does. You look a bit young for that.”