Roman

''You're not so bad. I'd enjoy this all even more if your compliments were sincere and not sarcastic,'' she teased back. She was really just fishing for compliments. She knew her worth, but she liked when others did too.

“Drivin’ from where?”  The older man questioned, curious and making light conversation.  “I see,” he commented.  “Dunno, this town seems to pick up a lot of people lookin’ for somethin’.”  He then looked up towards the bartender needing a refill.  “Any reason you left home?”

She exhaled softly through her nose, her attention drifting to the bottles lined up behind the bar. “Didn’t expect to end up back in Ennora,” she said after a moment. “Got pulled into things I thought I’d already walked away from.” She kept it vague, unsure of how much she really wanted to disclose without a little liquor to numb her senses. “Still trying to figure out where I fit in all of it now.”

Listening to her speak, he nodded.  At one point he thought about disappearing from the town, but he had children…although staying really didn’t do them any favors.  “Well damn, sounds serious.”  Roman’s eyes gazed towards her.  “On the bright side, tonight you ain’t gotta figure out shit.  Just have a few drinks and let that be tomorrow’s problem.  So what will you be having?”

The Rusty Dog was far more casual than the places downtown, and far closer to her current residence. She felt the actually rusty air the second she walked in, and, although she was too shy to actually look around in search of familiar faces –hopefully someone who would not hate her– she acknowledged the not-so-small crowd gathering in that place that evening. Keeping her eyes down, Nin made her way to the bar where she was greeted by a rough voice that did not come from behind the bar, but rather beside her. "Oh– do I really look that bad?" Nin chuckled, clearly not taking it to heart, but she did feel slightly self-conscious about the way her unwashed hair was perhaps not falling the right way. "Wait, only the first?"

“Nah,” he smirked.  “Don’t look bad at all doll face.  Just maybe someone who could use a breather.”

“And yeah,” he added, the corner of his mouth tugging into a faint smirk, “only the first. Gotta make sure you’re worth goin’ broke over before I buy drink two.”

The man motioned for her to settle down next to him as he lifted a finger towards the bartender to come their way.

“By the way, name’s Roman.  So what brought you into a place like this?”

Daphne could be too much; she knew that, and everyone around her knew that. She rarely had a filter and even more rarely thought hard about what she was saying to people. But that was what most liked about her, the unpredictability and the constant motion. Tapping fingers against the bartop as if it were drums, she locked eyes with him and stopped her body's movements to focus for a second. "I bet that is why I get so many tips from all the tourists," she said, motioning with her chin to the group. "You've been hiding from me," she repeated her text's accusation.

Roman’s smirk deepened, slow and knowing, like he had all the time in the world and none of the shame to match it. “Well now,” he drawled with his southern accent that often managed to slip through. “If I’ve been hidin’, darlin’, it’s only ‘cause a man’s gotta recover sometime…and you don’t exactly make that easy.”

She hoped he would never find someone to really love, no matter how mean it was to wish someone eternal loneliness. "I knew I would find you here," she said as she sat next to him in the shitty bar she’d never usually step foot in. Sign she had been looking specifically for him. She looked completely out of place, but barely a few years ago, this would’ve been her scene.

“What brings a pristine, high-class woman here?”  He questioned in a teasing manner.  Licking his lips, he lifted a brow.  “You came all the way here just for lil ole me?”  Roman pointed to himself.  “You keep comin’ around, one might think you actually enjoy company.”

She'd just been given a couple of days of down time when the town museum had announced a big temporary exhibition loan of 18th century art from none other than Ca' Rezzonico in Venice. VENICE, of all places. This was a big deal, requiring a massive coordination between Ennora museum's staff, terms negotiations, paperwork, agreement on return protocols, the duration of the loan and finally, insurance of specialized transport. A week later of being swarmed with work and overtime, Amy had to pull extremely late hours to oversee the paintings and sculptures being delivered. This being a cross-ocean transit, the shipment after clearing all of the numerous steps in between, finally landed and was being delivered to the museum somewhere around midnight due to time differences, delays and such.

Two to three hours later, Amy was finally allowed to leave, in desperate need of sleep. Though knowing that she didn't have to go to work the next day (who'd even be able to?!), just thinking about what will come in the following weeks made her want a drink as well. But it was too late, or rather too early to be this irresponsible. Walking down the street to reach the parking lot where her car was (she'd arrived during rush hour and found her usual parking space right in front of the museum taken and was too busy to actually report it so she left the matter as it was), she noticed a familiar figure a bit further ahead from her. If she did not know the man, her otherwise unshakable confidence would likely quiver a little to see a random guy skulking about at this time of the night. As it were, it was perfectly normal to find Roman on the streets at night, as he bounced a strip club nearby.

Amy knew this man very well and he was no threat whatsoever. If he shaved sometimes, he'd look even friendlier. "Roman? Is that you?" Her clicking heels approached, a rare moment when Amy actually regretted heels because she'd been standing and running around in them all day.

A figure down the street caught his eyes, a bit late for someone to be out that wasn’t part of the club scene.  He squinted down the street and noticed Amy Everly.

A crooked smile pulled at his face as he flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his shoe.

But the staring was beginning to get to him, the third time now. "Alright, you got me. I didn't pay for a ticket," he said, the confession feeling like it echoed through the mostly empty theater particularly loudly.

The man’s eyes kept looking over at some kid, he wasn’t exactly sure who he was or if he had seen him.  The place was dark and well, Roman often refused to wear his glasses thinking it made him look older.  “Huh?  No one here gives a fuck.”  He replied back.

“If you’re feeling something sweet, I’d go with the caramel latte—smooth, not too cloying, with that nice little burnt-sugar edge. Or the honey lavender if you want something softer, floral but not over-the-top. Both come hot or iced, your call. He slid his gaze back to the guy, reading him a little. “If sweet’s not your speed and you just want something straightforward, we do a solid black coffee—dark roast, nothing fancy, just strong and clean. Or an Americano if you like it a touch lighter but still bold.”

Diego’s smile turned a shade warmer, playful. “And that’s not even getting into our cold brew selection. We’ve got the classic, a vanilla bean one that’s stupidly smooth, and a salted caramel cold brew that’ll ruin you for regular coffee forever.”

“Fuck,” he grumbled under his breath as he shook his head.  “Um,” his eyes reread the menu and all the different drinks.  And people did this on a regular basis?  Come to coffee shops and have a specialized drink order?  “Timeout did you say iced?  Who the hell gets coffee iced?”  Shaking his head at this damn generation, he finally settled on the honey lavender.  That should go with whiskey right? 

"You are my new favorite customer, can't believe you won't be staying here longer," Daphne was saying as she leaned on the bar, lace covered arms covering the space between herself and the man that stood there. It was calmer than usual, definitely calmer than a normal Friday night and she figured it had something to do with the fact that one could have their ass freezing out there. But even now, there were people here. A group of stranded tourists who were staying at the motel and had come out for some drinks.

Daphne had been pulling good tips all evening. One of them left a number folded into a napkin as she waved him off toward his friends, the paper slipping easily into her pocket.

And as she took out her phone to kill some time the door opened, letting in the freezing air and Daph looked up through escaped curls to see Roman walk in.

Now, that was indeed one of her favorite customers, not just smooth-talk.

A sight for sore eyes, as one might say. Her lips' corners tugged up and she leaned forward again, eyes twinkling mischievously as she waited for him to come closer. "Ah, here I thought you'd bail on me because your balls might freeze off by the time you come," she teased as she gave him a wink, turning to grab a bottle with his poison of choice.

Roman eased his way towards the bar counter, his dark eyes set on Daphne.  “All I heard was you have been thinking about me,” he smiled as he settled onto one of the barstools.  “Any other parts you have been thinking about?”  He questioned as his tongue brushed against his upper lip.

“Who are these people?” Looking around, it was evident there was a group of people that weren’t from these parts.  

When the drink was placed in front of him, he reached for the glass and took a sip.  “Damn, you do such an amazing job with that pour.”

Diego leaned against the counter, wiping down the bar for the third time out of sheer boredom, apron dusted with coffee grounds and a little milk foam heart dried near the pocket. Thirty minutes. So close he could taste it. And then, as if the universe was here to cure his boredom, the bell above the door jingled. Diego straightened instantly, slapping a hand to the counter like he’d been summoned to duty.

“Hello, Scotty? Yeah, it appears we’ve beaned another one up to the motherboard. Get the espresso engines running!” He grinned wide as he looked up, eyes bright with mischief before softening into something warmer. “Welcome to The Bean! You’re in luck—I’ve got about thirty minutes left on shift, which means…” he leaned in just a bit, lowering his voice like he was letting them in on a secret, “you’ve got thirty minutes to have your out-of-this-world coffee made by the coolest barista in the whole galaxy.”

As he entered, he sighed hearing the kid speak.  “Lucky me,” he murmured to himself as he slowly made his way inside to look at the menu.  Everything to him looked way too fancy.  Did simple drinks exist anymore?

“Uh, what do you suggest, Skipper?”  He inquired with a cocked brow.