for no one

"Well, what can I say, I aim to please", he said before sculling the contents of his glass. Slamming it down on the bar, he groaned. "Oh, y’know, just busting my ass for Daddy Copeland’s every need and whim. And we both know he’s got eyes like a fucking hawk. So, I haven’t exactly been able to… fraternize lately. Not with our boss breathing down my damn neck.”

“Sorry, Nathaniel, I have just no clue what fraternizing you’re talking about.” Eliza said this while furrowing her eyebrows with a smirk, as they both knew exactly what he was talking about. While sometimes the thought of getting caught by the corporation with Nathaniel kept her up at night, most of the time Eliza just shrugged off the thought of them getting in trouble, assuring herself that she could just erase the minds of whoever saw the incriminating evidence – even if she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to.

You have exquisite ideas for how to fill the endless boredom. Eliza, when victims have no memory of whatever can be arbitrarily defined as grievous bodily harm, it means we don’t have to deal with pesky and frankly unnecessary consequences.

Now that I'm thinking of it, I'm sure I could sacrifice the satisfaction of having people remember what you did to them if it meant keeping Daddy Copeland off of our backs. Though I'm sure next week he'll find a new grievance to rag about.

"Another", Nathaniel slurred, gesturing towards the empty glass in front of him. "Actually, make that two. I have a friend coming." He smirked to himself - Eliza was more than just a friend. Not unless friends often slept together on a regular basis, but that was about as far as their relationship went; Non-exclusive and no strings attached. At least, that’s what Nathaniel told himself when he chose to ignore the glaring looks he would catch Eliza giving Heather Maxwell, and when he found himself doing the same when Eliza was flirting with whoever her next conquest was.

Eliza took in the bar, looking around. As per usual, there was some stranger making a fool of themselves in a brightly lit corner crying and singing karaoke to some Adele song, to which Eliza tried her hardest to block from her precious eardrums. She didn't recognize the bartender, though that didn't necessarily mean he was new – Eliza had a tendency not to notice people that didn't impact her in the slightest.

It makes you my informant. Now, has your intel already dried up, or can you provide information on the unenlightened? We could make a house call, have some fun, straighten the facts out, prove to them that I’m the ice queen, and you’re the manipulative bitch. 

I don't think I'm physically able to come up with a better way to spend my afternoon than torturing whiny, soft-skinned, shits with Madison Copeland, but I'm afraid my power is rather useless to you, considering I can't really see you wanting your victims to forget what you did to them. 

If you would like to lodge a formal complaint for supposed unnatural water damage, leave your name and address and I will personally resolve the issue. 

I've had more than one person call me "the ice queen" recently, and I thought you might want to defend your title. Does that count as a complaint, or just me doing you a favor since you take a fair bit of pride with that name?

Aw come on, Liz. You know I wouldn’t heckle you about alcohol unless it was really too much. I’m a bartender for Christ’s sake. But Liz, respectable amount is so…relative.

Mmm, you have a pretty good point. Respectable in a bartenders view, I think, though I am just completely bullshitting this all right now. Maybe I should make a point to come to see you, though, considering I see none of you in the bumble of Valens.

Unfortunately, Spence’s shack of a place prevents him from doing the same with us. Such a shame that he took that whole ‘live beneath your means’ shit so seriously. 

Well at least Valens has a modern day Muhammad or Siddhartha or something in Spencer. We should feel very proud.

All you have to do is ask and I’d be happy to give. You are my sister, after all.

The offer extends. Even though my house is literally your house, you get the magnanimity of this generosity. 

What Mom doesn’t know, won’t hurt her. Eliza, you know my daily inventory check of my liquor is just as intense as when I chug it down, there’s no plausible way I could have forgotten.

Yeah, if there's one thing I'm definitely doing it's stealing alcohol from my little sister.

Fucking cleaning lady.

Don't question mom's choice of help, or that bitch'll kill you. I find it much more likely that you finished the bottle on your own and you forgot? Happens to the best of us.

Right. So how much alcohol are you drinking daily now…?

C'mon Spencer, you know the reason I avoid Awol when you're working is that you'll never find that information out. But it's a pretty respectable amount.