burningfrustrations
Maya was not a stranger to the unknown and the strange. This person, whoever they were, had to have caught on that Darkside Bar was not just any run of the mill bar. The patrons themselves came from all walks of supernatural life. You had Fae, Elves, Dimensional beings, Goblins, Beastmen, Wizards, Witches, Sorcerer’s, and even an Alien or two. All of which stood on neutral ground where no one could fight or cause a scene.
She felt the presence of something other than him, which was fine. If you gotta fake it till you make it, then so be it. She just really needed the help.
After a couple hours, the bar died down enough to where it wasn’t necessary to continue running like a headless chicken. Maya leaned against the counter and chugged down an entire pint of Ale.
“Not bad. I could use you for my more busier nights if you’re interested in continuing.”
Sheep in the business had begun to truly learn the proper steps of being a bartender. The implications and intricacies - the dead ones were brilliant teachers and often ones to share their craft when given the oppurtunity to do so.
So when it begins to calm down, he finds himself dismissing the New Yorker, and the ghost finds itself satisfied in teaching the lessons and movements behind a bar. Meanwhile, Sheep looks relatively invigorated yet also thoroughly exhausted.
He gives Maya a grin.
"A job? For me?" He presses a hand to his chest in a pose slightly dramatique. He watches her down the ale.
If only alcohol of that nature had done anything for him, maybe he would have joined her.
“I’d say I spent most of the evening going by sitting on my pants.” He is totally convinced that is what the phrase is, and it’s obvious by the way he says it with such a straight face.















