can't get enough of myself

Wren rolled her eyes at Gloria’s attempt at a low blow, not necessarily finding it within herself to grant Gloria the win she so desperately craved by trying to cut Wren off at the knees. It was a defense mechanism, Wren knew, and while it might have bothered her at another time, another place, another life, now it only infuriated her. Gloria had always been stubborn, willful and prideful and boastful, and Wren had fallen in love with that very woman because of what she held within her, not in spite of it. It hurt to know that, after leaving, Gloria was still the same. She hadn’t been irreparably damaged by her own actions. She existed in the same form, just somewhere else, away from Wren. 

“Why do you care so much if I live here? What difference does it make? I’ve been here a year and you’ve managed to avoid me,” she accused, further proof that Gloria had had no interest in finding her, her mind, it seemed, made up. “What do you care that I’m here now?”

-

Wren had a point. She always had a point. It was something that Gloria had always resented; even damaged from an unstable childhood and an even more unstable parental figure, Wren was better than Gloria. It was simple fact, and it drove Gloria crazy. Initially, it was what had drawn her to Wren; to hold something so precious, so bright in her own hands - it was something magical. Gloria had hoped that some of that goodness would rub off, and that eventually she’d begin to feel it within herself, too. What a waste of time it had been.

“It’s the principle, isn’t it? It’s my hometown. My family is here,” her family who she actively avoided, “my friends,” what friends? Her shit-for-brains roommate, or the one Wednesday night regular who tipped her the full 20%? “My... house.” Her small, cluttered, busted apartment. She was fishing. She could tell she was fishing, and if Wren still knew a thing about her, she’d be able to tell, too. “And besides, do you really want to spend the rest of your time here with your head on a swivel, worried about whether or not I’m standing in the same room? I sure as hell don’t. And seeing as I was here first, I believe that’s your cue to leave.”

Wren instinctually brought her hands to rest on her hips, exasperated preemptively with whatever Gloria had to say. It was as if it was muscle memory–a recall of fights the pair had had in the past, long-buried memories unearthing themselves. They hadn’t changed that much, even in absence from one another. The thought made Wren ache.

She heaved a sigh at Gloria’s worthless question. “You hate it here,” Wren muttered, as if that made her case any better. Gloria had long lamented how much disdain she held for Eureka, which, admittedly, was what sparked such curiosity in Wren; what was so awful about such a harmless town, truly? A year in, she hadn’t found anything so offensive. A deeper, innate part of her, however, knew it wasn’t simply the idea of getting to know the town her ex-fiancée grew up in–it was the prospect of having a piece of the woman. Wren had built back a lot of her life in the wake of Gloria’s decisions, but she was far from pristine, forever marred by the woman before her and what they’d meant to each other once upon a time. “So you came to the one place you always told me you’d never go back to, and I’m supposed to have predicted that. I took the job here because I didn’t figure I’d ever see you here, Gloria. I’m not trying to impede on your territory or something.” Not exactly the truth, but, Gloria didn’t need to know that.

-

In spite of stance Wren took and the look on her face, and in spite of the anger and indignancy that was raging through Gloria, there was something achingly familiar about this situation. The topic of conversation itself was new, but they’d been through this before. It was rooted inside of them, this dance they had so often done. They knew every step by heart, even after all these years. 

A part of Gloria wanted to just skip it, and just jump to the part that they both knew was coming - the part where they kiss and make-up. 

“I may hate it here, but this is my home. I know you don’t understand the concept, but I have roots here.” Gloria hated having roots. Hated it. But what else was she meant to do? She’d never been close to this town, but when everything goes wrong, where else is one meant to go but home? “Great, you’re not trying to impede on my territory. Give me the name of your landlord, and I can see what it’ll take to break the lease, yeah? How’s that sound?”

It was a fair question, if Wren was being honest with herself. She’d ended up in Eureka by chance, deciding it to be a place to set down roots, to lead a stable life, to grow up and thrive, ideally. She’d never imagined that might be threatened by Gloria’s presence, the very person who had damaged her so badly she wondered, briefly, if she’d ever even be able to repair herself. Gloria leaving had shattered the very foundation upon which the rest of Wren’s life seemingly laid, and her sudden departure fractured Wren–she worried, sometimes to this day, irreparably. 

“I’m–I work at the hospital. Bayview. I’m a nurse,” Wren all but stuttered, finding it difficult to justify herself though she had no reason to do so. If anything, it was Gloria who should be explaining herself. Gloria was the one who had upended everything, had redefined the very world Wren existed in. “I moved up here like, a year ago. What are you doing here?”

-

There were a million words to say, and a million ways to express all the different emotions that were beginning to bubble up beneath the skin of her face. She finally settled on a roll of her eyes, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. Typically, she might pop a hip out, just to drive home the image of irritation, but she didn’t feel she could give any of her height when she was already a head shorter than Wren, and already felt so small in her gaze.

“Well congratulations, but are there not hundreds of thousands of hospitals on the planet?” Taking a step closer, she almost went to wag her finger in Wren’s face, but was able to reel herself in. “You knew at this was my home.” Home. What a worthless term for a worthless town; Wren had known that Gloria had never felt a connection to Eureka, even if this was her family had settled. Wren knew better than anyone that Gloria had fought her entire life to get out of the pit of quicksand that was Eureka; for all Gloria knew, Wren might’ve come here under the assumption that this would be the one place she’d never have to worry about seeing her again. But it still didn’t make it right. This was the one place that should’ve been off limits. They couldn’t co-exist here, and Gloria had been here first. Whether she claimed it or not, it was hers. “I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.” 

It’s not as if Wren wanted to confront Gloria at a dive bar she was supposed to be having a raucous time with her coworker in. Frankly, if she were to be honest with herself, she didn’t want to confront Gloria at all–she had longed for the opportunity once upon a time, when the wound was raw. She wanted nothing more than to pour salt in it, to feel the sting, to see Gloria again, even if she knew the woman wanted nothing to do with her. But then Wren had come to her senses. She’d grown up, she’d established a life for herself. She’d moved on–as much as she possibly could–the wound healed but the scar, jagged and ugly, remaining. 

She watched as Gloria rapidly exited the bar and quickly stood, excusing herself to the group of women who were too busy chatting to really notice her absence. Following after the woman, she momentarily lost her as Gloria exited out into the alley, and Wren nearly walked into a table chasing the woman. As she thrust open the door and saw Gloria standing there, small and defiant, she felt a pang of longing, a familiar ache. 

At Gloria’s words–well, word, really–Wren’s eyebrows slowly raised into her hairline, her eyes widening. “That’s what you’re leading with? Really? It’s been…how long, and that’s what you’re coming out of the gate with?”

-

If she’d been paying a spot of attention to the way that she felt rather than the thoughts in her head, Gloria might’ve been able to catch the way her heart had jumped into her throat and her stomach began to wring into knots. This was the woman who had haunted every single dream she’d had for years, and here she was in the flesh. There were parts of Gloria that wanted to reach out, to touch the apparition in front of her, even if only to assure herself that she was real. There were bigger parts, though, that commanded her to stand stock-still, fearing that anything might show a weakness, a softness, that Wren mustn’t know she had.

“I’m not really sure what you’d want me to lead with. Other than maybe, what are you doing here?” She shrugged, trying to force some kind of power into her voice, into her stance, like she had any ground to stand on. Like the fact that this was her hometown somehow gave her a right to everything that had happened, and should make Wren feel stupid enough to end the conversation where it was. Like maybe if she could just embarrass the other woman – her ex-fiancee, ex-best friend, ex-love of her life – enough, she might not have to answer any questions. She might not have to lay out the reasons why she’d walked away. Might not have to tell Wren that there wasn’t a reason, and that the fact that she had ghosted their relationship had haunted her every step she took, even the very ones that led her here to where she stood.

Gloria’s response, though it cast a bolt of anger through Wren, was no surprise, really–why had Wren assumed she’d play along? Why had Wren ever assumed anything about Gloria, really? It had only gotten her hurt, in some ways, the ways she didn’t talk about, irrevocably. She knew better than to vest any interest in the idea of Gloria actually seeking her out after her shift ended, either. And so she was left with no other choice. 

Five minutes. 

It wasn’t nearly a long enough period of time to accomplish what Wren was hoping to, whatever nebulous thing that was. An apology? An explanation? A declaration of love? None of them seemed apt, none of them seemed possible. Wren had let Gloria go, or so she thought–by force, initially, and then by will. She had allowed herself to grieve her loss, mourn her possible future, and move on with her life as best she could knowing that there were parts of Wren that Gloria took with her when she left. Parts Wren feared might never come back. But the least she could do, the least either of them could do, was face each other once and for all. 

-

The text that popped up unceremoniously only tugged Gloria’s heart further up into her throat until she wondered if she’d choke on it. Of course Wren wouldn’t let this go. And could Gloria actually blame her? The two had been engaged, as in engaged to be married; Wren had every expectation of spending the rest of her life with her, and despite Gloria’s infamous cold feet, she had briefly been swayed by the same belief. However fleetingly, Gloria Willis had loved the woman sat across the bar from her in her entirety, and in spite of knowing everything there was to know about Wren Goodwin, and loving every single piece of it, she’d left without a word. Of course karma would be biting her ass for something like that. Whether or not she deserved this wasn’t the question; it was whether or not she’d own up to it. Well, if she were being entirely honest, she never believed she’d have to. Glo had known the past would follow her until the end of her days, but she figured she’d be able to outrun it – or at least out-hide it. Wren showing up here? In Eureka, of all places?

She could see Bryan getting ready to remove his apron, the minute hand of the clock fast approaching upon his 15 minute break. She looked back over the sea of heads to catch Wren’s eyes once more before heaving an exasperated sigh. “I’m going on break,” she told him as she walked by, not bothering a glance at him to gauge his reaction and choosing not to turn around at the sound of his protest. She instead kept marching until she was able to slip out the side door into the fairly well lit alley that lined the building. 

It was still misty out from the previous rain, small pools of water laying in the cracks and crevices of the cobblestone. She kicked at a puddle while she waited, immediately regretting it when her trainer fully soaked through just as a familiar face appeared around the corner.

Shoving her hands into her pockets, feeling on the defensive before a single word had even been said, Gloria couldn’t help the tone that lined her simple question. “What?”

CAL’S BAR @gloriawillis​

There was a solid ringing in his head; though, the noise of chattering mouths, and the clacking of pool cues was distracting enough to reveal him. Leland had participated in his own party of one the night before. It left him in a rough state, feeling sensitive to practically every sense out there. But was that going to stop him from making matter worse? Not really. If anything, Leland was a firm believer in an old tale; if you drank more, did you even have a hangover?

Shuffling his feet against the ground, he slowly but surely bad his way closer to the bar; home sweet home. With a bit of a sigh, Leland eased himself onto an open stool, giving a bit of a nod towards the bartender.

“Start me off with whatever drink you think I’d order.”

-

Having worked with or around alcohol for her entire adult life, not a whole lot ever really surprised Gloria. She’d spent enough time in dingy dive bars to have gotten used to the ups and downs - mainly downs - of human behavior while under the influence, specifically in such environments as Cal’s, and though unpredictable, Gloria had not only learned to live with that steady flow of life, but she had come to thrive on it. 

As a barkeep, there was little she couldn’t get away with, which was just the way she liked it. Aside from the common drunken slut trying to throw hands, and the even more common drunken old man who wanted to place hands without consent, the job was ideal. Freedom, simply put. So even when handsome men with rough hands and sweet voices and sick tattoos sidled up to the bar, giving orders, Gloria was able to maintain her content smile, knowing that this was exactly where she belonged.

She stared the gentleman down for a moment, hesitating on whether to use sweet versus snarky to answer the command she’d been given. Within a matter of seconds, she figured that it didn’t necessarily matter, as this man looked like he practically lived in dive bars, meaning he wouldn’t dare stiff her. At least not in that way. “That’s fine, but you’ll be paying for it either way,” she shrugged before she set to making him an old fashioned. She herself had never really understood the appeal - never a huge fan of whiskey - but it was a common enough order among men who looked like him, and even if he didn’t necessarily enjoy it she wouldn’t put it past him to shoot it back to save his own pride. 

She set it in front of him, eyeing his face for any sign of approval or disappointment. “Once you’re done with that, you can kindly tell me your actual order.”

Wren had come to Eureka seeking a new life, a reprieve from the confines of the one she’d formed during her time in Los Angeles and in every other city her mother had dragged her along to, never quite settling. Eureka, to Wren, was a chance to start over; be something different, someone different. She started to assimilate to Eureka quickly enough, making friends through work and bonding with them over shared horror stories (though many of them were women with families and fully fleshed-out lives, and Wren was…well…). 

In coming to Eureka, she’d also left the wreckage of her relationship with Gloria Willis in the rearview, choosing to relegate it to a snapshot of her life that she’d long ago burned. This made seeing her–actually seeing her, in the flesh, in a dive bar in Eureka, California–an altogether jarring experience, forcing her body into fight or flight mode. Her stomach dropped as the pair locked eyes, then again, as their gazes lingered for a moment, undoubtedly taking one another in after so many years absence, so many things left unsaid, so many questions left unanswered. Each time their eyes flickered toward one another’s, Wren shook her leg involuntarily, unsure of whether or not to leave the building entirely or approach Gloria and angrily confront her. Finally, after a few hours of the game, she chose a not-so-happy medium.

Pulling her phone out of her purse, she scrolled to the contact she’d been too much of a coward to delete, her thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before she clicked message and went forth with her poor decision. 

Can I see you outside?

-

Despite avoiding the table like the plague, Gloria hadn’t been able to stop her gaze from wandering to the table over and over again, and it wasn’t long before she caught chocolate eyes staring back at her. She couldn’t tell if they way eyebrows pulled over them was a sign of longing or hatred, or potentially both. Perhaps Gloria was simply projecting, and Wren had forgotten what she looked like altogether. With any other past lover, she could’ve convinced herself of this, but not Wren. Not after what they’d shared. Not after what Gloria had walked away from.

Gloria watched with a sinking heart as Wren pulled her phone out, worried that a text might spring up across her screen, and even more worried that one might not. She watched with bated breath from behind the counter, ignoring the woman who was waving at her from down the bartop, eyes flickering from the woman sat across the busy establishment to the phone in her hand. Within a few moments, her screen lit up. 

Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth so that she could begin to nibble off bits of skin, she debated on just how to answer, only being pulled out of her nerves as Bryan jostled past her, headed to help the customer she’d been disregarding. Suddenly, the bar that usually felt like home seemed loud and crowded, and she wanted nothing more than to take a walk outside. The emotions were beginning to bubble over in a way that she rarely allowed, a way that she was entirely uncomfortable with, and with a sigh, she released that emotion the only way she knew how.

LOCATION  → outside of Cal’s

As per her usual Saturday evening routine, Gloria had clocked into her shift nearly 20 minutes late, immediately throwing a serving apron around her waist and setting to work on prepping her station for the evening. Her fellow barkeep, Bryan, had likely arrived early and tossed a saucy look over his shoulder at her, to which she only rolled her eyes. She tugged her sheer, tight black tank top down further, knowing that the tips she made from her cleavage were the sole reasons she could keep the heat on in her flat, and wiped her hands on the butt of her skin-tight jeans before getting to work. 

Cal’s was as busy as it ever was – which was honestly even slower than a ghost-town type of night from Retrograde, her former site of employment in LA – and she never would’ve noticed the group of middle aged women sitting in a corner, having a laugh, if a familiar scent hadn’t assaulted her as she walked by. Head on a swivel, trying to find a name for it despite the fact that she knew in her heart exactly where to place it, she glanced at each of the faces in the small circle until she caught sight of the back of one head in particular. Had she not known the woman so well (each and every goddamn curve) she probably could’ve mistaken her for nearly any other person on the planet. But the way her clothes hugged her gorgeous figure, the exact shade of her perfect complexion as her hands gesticulated, and the delicate waves that fell over gently sloped shoulders, she knew them all by heart.

Had Gloria been holding a tray, she would’ve dropped it. She could feel every muscle in her body stutter as she stumbled to a halt, thankful for the thin veil of people between her and the small group. She stood for a moment, staring, before Bryan called her name and she was snapped out of her trance and back into reality. Her feet started again, her mind slowly following, as she bolted back towards the safety of the bar. “Shit fuck damn son of a bitch.”

The woman shrugged with her question about walking alone. “Mon chéri, I walk alone pretty much everywhere,” she laughed and took a step back from her. “this is hardly bad weather, I grew up in Canada and Sweden. Comparing the two, this is basically summer.” Eleanor laughed and pointed down the way to Cal’s. “Well I was planning on grabbing a drink, it helps with the cold.” 

Eleanor wasn’t sure if she was making the woman uncomfortable or she was just plastered. “If you aren’t interested in the hike to the vehicle, come sober up in the bar. You can keep me company while I drink alone, after walking all this way alone.” She joked and brushed some of her dark hair away from her face. “I’m Eleanor, Eleanor Ansley.” 

-

The pet name was like a slap to the face. Of course she knew what it meant; ‘my dear.’ Tess had used it a few times, and this woman was unfortunately bringing her back. Maybe she did need another drink. Taking a look down the street, which was quieter than when she had arrived, but still not yet abandoned, Gloria weighed her options. “What the fuck,” she muttered to herself under her breath. “Why not?” 

Picking her head up, she gave the other woman a nod. “Yeah, sure, fine. As long as we can get out of this fucking weather.” Even with a shit ton of alcohol in her, she was still shivering. “I’m Gloria. I work in the bar so I’ll see if I can’t get us a few free drinks. What’s your poison?” She asked, leading the woman back into the establishment, ignoring the look from the bartender who had taken her place behind the counter. “Pick a seat anywhere.”

Matías had just finished up a deal with someone he had been keeping an close eye on. In fact, the night has started off normal enough. Him and his friend had stopped by Cal’s for a drink or two, bullshitted a little – played the game as they so do like to say. As far as anyone knew, they were just two good old friends out having a good time. As far as he was concerned, his job was done for the night. He was going to go home, and clash. That was until, however, someone had called out to him. Turning, he saw someone slightly familiar coming towards him. Slightly familiar only because he had seen her bouncing around inside. He arched a brow, “Unfortunately, I do not have any more cash on me.” He responded, then glancing over his shoulder towards his vehicle parked a mere few inches away. “I have a car, but I guess that’d depend on how much you’d really trust getting in a car with a stranger.” Not that he’d do anything to her, but that really should have been anyone’s first concern when in this particular situation. 

As the man came further into view, Gloria’s gut began to churn inside her stomach slightly, but she’d always been good at ignoring that feeling. He stood tall over her barely five foot frame, and all of his features screamed scary. But still, a man with a car was a man with a car, and for the most part, Eureka wasn’t too bad on crime. Or so she’d assumed. She stopped a couple feet away from him, still trying to assess the situation, but the cold and the alcohol were getting to her, and more than anything, she just wanted to be off her feet. “Well, it’s either I go with you and risk being kidnapped or murdered, or I walk home alone and risk being kidnapped or murdered. The only difference is, one has heating and the other doesn’t,” she shrugged despite the chill that ran down her spine.

It had been the first time in a long time that Eleanor found herself out of the house let alone a bar. It had been a particularly rough time for the young writer not just in her professional life but also her personal life. She had just picked up her bags and moved across the world to an unfamiliar town, in a country she’d never seen, and with people who had different customs than those she was familiar with.

Nellie hadn’t anticipated what an American style bar would truly be like, all she knew was she would sell her soul for a whiskey sour tonight. As she was walking up to Cal’s, she noticed a young woman coming out of the establishment, seemingly belligerent drunk. She heard the voice of another asking her a question, it took her a moment to fully understand what she had said. “What? -Oh” Nellie watched as the woman stumbled her way through the walkway. “I don’t presently have my vehicle,” she paused and looked around. “Where do you live? I can walk you if you don’t want to go alone. Or if you’re alright with a two mile hike to my home, I can drive you.”

-

As she approached, Gloria noted that the face of the woman was one she’d never seen before. In the pale light from the lamppost above, she could make out kind, soft features framed by long, silky hair. She looked near angelic, and Gloria almost believed she could’ve been a winged messenger sent by the heavens to look out for her – until she heard the words that came from her mouth. A mile or two? 30 fucking minutes? She scoffed under her breath before remembering where she was and what she needed; she couldn’t act like a bitch and still expect this woman to work with her. 

Swallowing her frustration, she pulled her lips up into a smile that she hoped was at least halfway convincing. “You walked here alone? In this weather?” She questioned, pulling her coat closer around herself. Perhaps it wasn’t all that cold to people who were used to these kinds of conditions, but even after a decade in New York, Gloria was still freezing her ass off. “Where were you headed, anyway?” 

-

Annie had spent the night at Cal’s doing what she typically did, watching the regulars and non-regulars until closing when everyone spilled out into the chill of the night, ready to partake in the plans the rest of their evenings held. As the bar closed, Annie, too, was ready to engage in her evening’s plans: Oreos and a Disney movie, likely before passing out on her couch like some sort of child. 

As she unlocked her car, however, she heard a voice–calling after her, notably–and turned around to see a woman crossing the street with impressive speed. A bartender, she observed; one she’d met a few times, though she couldn’t recall her name for the life of her, just now. It seemed as though she was in distress, and so Annie turned to face her, then, listening to her appeal. 

“I’m…I mean, I have a car,” Annie stated simply, eyes darting to the car at her right as if to prove as much; she quickly returned her gaze to the woman in front of her and tentatively offered, “I’d be happy to give you a lift, if that’s a thing you’d be okay with.”

These were the kinds of things Annie did and generally told no one about.

-

The closer she got, the more the features she’d recognized. While the girl wasn’t necessarily a regular - she rarely drank, and more often than not, she simply sat back in the corner just to watch - she’d seen her plenty enough. Of course, seeing someone around was not the same as knowing them, not in the slightest. Luckily for Gloria, she could make fast friends with anyone, especially when she was in a bind.

“Hey, I know you. You’re the one with the- the pens and pencils, right?” She hoped she wasn’t slurring too badly. If she came off as sloppy or like she’d be more trouble than worthwhile, there was a chance the woman might rescind her offer. “I’m Gloria. I think we’ve met before, but I don’t know if I ever caught your name. I’m sure I’d remember it if I had.” Her tone, though light and jovial, was laced with an underlying sensuality, one that she’d been practicing for years. Subliminal messages or whatever. It usually sold her case, and in most situations, people were more likely to help with what she needed.

“I’m not usually one to just take rides from stranger,” false, she’d been in plenty of cars with plenty of strangers, “but as you can tell, it’s cold as tits out here and I’m not really sure I’d be comfortable walking home. I can pay you gas money as soon as I have access to my wallet.” She flashed a tempered, hopeful smile.

“Shockingly, no. They mentioned hanging out and drinking.” She said with a wrinkle of her nose as she shuddered at the thought. Raising her brow as she looked at the other, she snorted. “I tend to like all things straight forward.” For a moment, she wondered if the look meant something else but while Harlow was someone who went straight in for the kill, she often missed the mark when people were trying to be nice or flirt with her. “Have you seen the menu? Why can’t we just use small, medium and large like normal places?” Her head shook as she sighed, placing her hands on her hip. “Wait a minute,” she paused to look over the other and rose a brow. “You need to work on being more straight forward than that because if you find me hot, then you’ve got to plainly say it.” Guys were like that and unfortunately for Harlow, she’d become akin to that. “I would have definitely introduced myself had you said I was hot.” She winked before sighing. “Unfortunately for me, Eureka is home. Well, it was. I’m here for now until I sell my father’s house and then, who the fuck knows after that.”

“Which, lesson learned, is always code for ‘do you want to have sex?’” For a moment, Gloria wondered if she might be barking up the wrong tree, but she herself lived life with a mantra: everything once. Usually, all it took was a bit of prodding, a bit of buttering up, and the person in question was putty in her hands. It was her one talent. Well, other than funneling four beers in a row without puking. “Where’s the fun in that? Don’t you feel so much more bougie sipping on a venti strawberry acai refresher? Plus, they’ve got adorable little cake pops.” Gloria stopped to glance at Harlow, a devilish glint in her eye as the taller woman seemed to catch on to her game. “Didn’t think I’d have to say it. A girl like you should already know.” She took the wink in stride, but didn’t dare make a move. She’d save that for later, after a little bit of cat and mouse. “Interesting. I’m sure I would’ve remembered you if I’d seen you around. We probably just missed each other. I was here for about ten years when I was younger; I’m only just back from New York after another...,” she counted on her fingers briefly, “well, I guess another eleven.”

Betelgeuse: What’s something you can never forget about?

“Well, that’s the trick isn’t it? Alcohol can make you forget anything.” That stupid ring.

Phoenix: Favourite thing to wear?

“I have a cute little black tube dress that looks to die for with a gold chain belt, but I try not to wear it unless I’m really going to wow someone.”

Cigar Galaxy: How are your flirting skills?

“Oh, easily some of the best on the west coast, and no, that’s not me being cocky. I was in much better competition in New York, but I can pull regardless. Perks of bartending and having a nice rack.”

Sombrero Galaxy: Do you have a crush right now?

“No, I don’t ‘crush.’“

Nebula: If you could undo one thing in your life, what would it be?