undergrounds | [OPEN] HERE IS SOMETHING YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND:

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They call them pubs here. Trevor dislikes this. He refuses to use their slang, and he has already gotten into a verbal fight with someone over language. Of course, this was all incited by Trevor himself after some hapless bar patron decided to insinuate that "English" was better than "American." Or maybe he wasn't insinuating anything; Trevor just assumed he was. Or maybe the man just politely told Trevor to calm down. Trevor can't remember the reasoning anymore because it was a blur of rage.

He now can be found in the middle of a rant - one in a series of many - shouting out into the dingy pub and attempting to cause another scene, which for some reason hasn't gotten him kicked out yet.

"Lager is a fucking scourge. It's goat piss. It doesn't get the distinction of being bull piss, because that shit is strong. Which one of you pip-pip jerkoffs tried to buy the whole bar pints of lager? Is that how you show your affection, you sadist? I know you're still here! I'm gonna find your presumptuous hide and carve it right off!"

[closed to clara]

There is one ray of light in this shithole. An older woman who seems content to just watch him do his thing. He's caught her looking at him and, fearless, steps right on over and takes a seat right next to her. Leaning on the table, he turns on his "charm", which just consists of him lowering his voice and staring at her with an intensity that'd make most people uncomfortable.

"Now this is a fucking crime. Beautiful girl like yourself all alone, having to buy your own drinks. Here, lemme handle that." He takes out his wallet, picks through it and procures a-- £50 note. God dammit he hates pounds. Forgot he had some of his money converted the other day.

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"Uh, yeah, I can see you." Trevor's rifling through his wallet in an attempt to find a nice, pure, American bill that he can slam down instead of this stupid pound-note. "C'mon, darling, have some self-esteem!" He's totally ignoring her rejection of his buying her a drink, by the way.

As far as everyone looking at him, Trevor's far too used to that kind of treatment. He seems blind to the fact that he's got a whole lot of eyes on him, focused more on his current situation with this lovely stranger.

"Self-esteem? Wha-- No! It's not that." She tries to protest but she finds herself more distracted by the fact he could see her and no one else could here in the pub. So that meant he was... a fae? A werewolf? Someone who just happened to catch sight of her when she wasn't careful?

Okay. She'll figure that one out later. For now she needs to focus on their immediate problem: Him talking to her when she isn't really there. It's not going to take long before people are going to start asking questions soon. Like 'what are you hitting on?' and things snowball from there. "Excuse me, sir, I appreciate your gesture. I do! Your offer is very sweet and all but I'm not that thir--"

The bartender approaches the 'two' before she can finish the sentence, the young man no doubt on the first night of his new job. He's eyeing the bill with some confusion since they don't take dollars. Though after looking at Trevor and looking back at the dollar, he decides it's not worth the danger of bringing it up and timidly asks what Trevor would like.

Trevor feels a sense of profound joy when the idiot bartender meagerly takes his $50 bill. That's right. Let's ignore how incredibly rude it is to force someone to take the wrong currency when you totally have the correct one right there at your disposal, but Trevor doesn't particularly care about his feelings. What he does care about is the woman next to him.

"Rum and coke." Barked at this shithead. He isn't complicated. Trevor then turns very pointedly to Clara, spreading his arm out possessively over the bar as he leans and looks at her. "And what about you? Anything you want, gorgeous. On me." His tone of voice changes noticeably when addressing her. Yes he's good at this.

Well. At least she knows he won't be too scary towards her. That's a good thing. Maybe. For now she thinks she's going to play along to avoid anymore attention being brought on them. Pretend that she'll drink, say she needs to use the restroom, and phase out of said restroom. A bit rude to do but, in the long run, she thinks it's the best for them.

She smiles at him nervously and tucks her hair behind her, trying to calm herself. Her nerves are getting the best of her though and the coolness of the pub becomes more noticeable as lights flicker overhead. Some of the regulars and try to focus on their drinks some more, muttering crappy electronics and letting it slide.

"Ummm... You're planning to get a rum and coke? That's my favourite! I would love to have that too with you."

Thankfully the bartender thinks the bill is meant for several drinks and he begins to prepare them all in advance, nervously looking behind to make sure Trevor was still in the same seat as he nervously tries to flag down one of the bouncers to please please please come here oh God.

"I'm Clara. It's a pleasure to meet you...?"

So help this barkeep if he dares make some sort of comment about Clara not being visible. Fortunately, he hasn't yet, so his limbs are all still fully attached. Trevor ain't magical one bit, so it must be some kind of glitch for the ghost-lady. But Trevor's none the wiser.

The lights flickering? Whatever. This place sucks. Trevor doesn't particularly notice either, too busy focusing on this wonderful woman.

He gives her a wide, terrifying smile once she says she wants what he's having. "Shit, good taste, too! Me and you need to get to know each other. Name's Trevor." He reaches out. Tries to take her hand and kiss it like a true gentleman. Whether or not he actually does is based on... a lot of things.

"Great minds, great tastes as they say, Mr. Trevor." To his credit and his luck(?), he is able to hold her hand for a second there. Clara is concentrating on sitting down, making her touchable to the rest of the world. She's also very chilly upon touching but that's clearly the pub's terrible wiring or something.

Clara, for her part, is getting flustered again and tries to say something, maybe a polite 'you're so sweet but no thank you' or maybe just pull her hand back and claim she has the flu, but someone intervenes at the worst time.

The bartender gets back to Trevor with the drinks he's ordered and just in time to Trevor and... and... and he has no idea what to do so he just ends up staring for a second before he politely clears his throat. At that very second he knows he's made a terrible and wishes he took up a retail job instead of here. "Sir? U-Um? I think you may have had one t-too many tonight."

[OPEN] HERE IS SOMETHING YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND:

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