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

[crystalmethod]

[open to all]

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.

Comments

[crystalmethod]

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.

[warmheartedly]

"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."