AZ.
Az has never really been one to keep himself to himself, almost as though he got off on the attention he would get when he would indulge his exhibitionist ways and on a certain level, it helped him in his job as a bartender. He even would Frankenstein his own drinks and name them after himself from time to time. He smirked to himself as he served up 4 drinks in a row before leaning on the bar as he spoke to the nearest patron, smirk on his face.
“Well, Mon Ami, what can I get for you this evening?” he asked with a grin, allowing the accent he took on to become thick as he spoke
resisting the urge to roll his eyes as far back in his head as they would go, tove rapped his knuckles along the bar top, mahogany ringing hollow beneath the white of his bone. ‘ a whiskey will do, az. my wife speaking french doesn’t mean i’m going to reciprocate. will you make sure not to put any ice in that? ’














