Somewhere where the Captain won't be mad [Sett]

[Thomas Lajoie]

The night had been a long one, and one containing some particularly strange events. For starters, Thomas had met up with a bunch of his non-meta friends downtown, one’s he had met out partying and they stuck together to get drunk on nights where they wanted to let loose. They had all pregamed at one of their apartments, and were pretty drunk by the time they got to the bar - which made the social awkwardness inside a lot more tolerable. It was a wednesday night, and most people were not out looking for a party on hump day - so the bar was full of regulars and randoms who had moseyed in alone, more often than not. One of these randoms decided Thomas was a pretty little thing, and had been buying him drinks all night. This man was also three times Thomas’ height, weight, and age - which gave him the creepy crawlies the entire evening. But hey, no one declines a free, un-drugged drink, right?

The creepski magee got the hint that Thomas was not interested, and left the bar around midnight, leaving the group of semi-rowdy twenty-somethings to relax and have fun. They had all sat around a long, round table, and ordered round after round until they were pretty plastered. Thomas could tell he should leave soon, and knew that the best way to surprise his cheap friends would be to pay for the tab without them knowing. In his drunken state, this was no longer a favor. This was an undercover mission. Without saying a word, he slunk out of the bench he was sitting in, and walked up to the bar to see if someone could help him. He leaned against the bar playfully as he waited to be assisted by the staff working that night. His balance was not what it normally was - but he wasn’t about to fall over. He just turned his slight wobble into an adorable sway and hoped no one would poke fun at him. The bartender was facing away from him, and he couldn’t get a good look from his standpoint.

"Ahh, pardon me sir?" he called out, his accent ringing out as thick as his blood was thin.

He sure looked cute from here, though.

[Sett Richmond]

"Here's your dirty martini, extra olives and my number." Sett flashed his trademark grin at his customer who blushed and ran off to her friends. "Call me!" He called out, chuckling to see her friends all turn to him with little giggles behind their hands. It was turning out into a good night.

Especially when he turned around at a call to find a very cute young man signaling for him. Throwing the dirty rag he'd been using over his shoulder, Sett approached the man and leaned against the bar with his easy charming grin and nodded. "What can I do you for, partner?" He asked, trying on his best American accent.

[OOC: Bitty post >_< sorreh ^^]

[Thomas Lajoie]

Thomas’ eyebrows lifted as he watched the man give his number away to some girls, and call after them as they ran away. He made a mental sigh as he figured the kind of bartender he was working with. Douche-tastic to the ladies to get tips, a total bro with the guys to do the same, and the first one to tell you you’re too drunk to order. It was this kind of person, exactly, that made Thomas sure he could never work at a bar. Genuine people can’t work in bars, he had been told, they get taken advantage of too quickly. His face had a stern furrowed look as he waited for the man to turn his way, and couldn’t help but feel his pupils dilate as he did. This boy was... well... not hard on the eyes. In fact, this boy looked like so many of the boys in Montreal that he almost spoke French when he was given the chance.

”J’-... I umm... am paying for the ahhh...” he lost his train of thought and forgot completely what people called it in English. A thousand French possibilities were streaming through his inebriated brain and not one of them indicating “tab”. “I’m paying for the drinks of our table. I ‘ave a visa.... partner.” he said, his eyes avoiding contact with the other man’s as much as possible, attempting to sound more American in response. He wasn’t one to avoid complimenting people, or flirting even, but this guy - based on his little interaction with the women prior - knew he was cute. And Thomas did not do arrogance.

But he was right earlier.
Oh boy was he right.

[Sett Richmond]

The accent made Sett's eyebrow fly up. So he wasn't the only guy around with an accent. Bugger all. He actually had competition in this town for foreign talent. That would suck. Especially since this man was a fine specimen of foreign talent. How unfair.

But a smile spread as the man stammered through, trying to explain he wanted to get the tab for his table. The word choice he used amused Sett. "You want to pay your tab with a visa, buddy? We're not the immigration clearance." He joked, back with his English accent. He was only joking around of course. Hopefully in his inebriated state, the man still had a sense of humor.

It would be ashamed to end this, whatever it is, on a sour note. Although now that Sett's seen the front, it wouldn't harm peeking the back. "Which table were you from then?" Sett asked, still grinning in amusement.

[Thomas Lajoie]

Thomas had so much trouble understanding American jokes. It wasn't an English thing, he could get that, but America had so many weird ideas about what was funny. He always wanted to let out a corny 'har har' to most of the jokes sent his way, but this boy was too cute much of a challenge for him to be blatantly rude to. If he wanted to tease, Thomas would tease right back. And he knew just how, seeing as he was not aware that this man's accent was not in any way American.

"Ah well, I was confused, but I 'ave a feeling Americans don't 'ire many immigrants to keep out their immigrants, now do they?" he noted, tilting his head to the side just enough so that when he made a muted half smile - the boy would see his playful side. And his charming handsome features, but whatever.

"Yes, the tab please. Unfortunately for myself, I am with these belligerent tools over 'ere." he said, making a small quarter turn to point in their direction sneakily. He realized his tiny point was very childish, but he didn't want them to see him pay for the drinks, and he was pretty drunk. So drunk, in fact, that he kept talking after he placed his Visa down for the man.

"Closing time must be nice. You can go 'unt down those girls you seemed to be eyeing." he said, an eyebrow raised in a judgmental/playful way. He wasn't normally this sarcastic or playful, but he also wasn't around stunning British men. Who, he kept having to remind himself, was attracted to women. TO WOMEN.

[Sett Richmond]

"You'd be surprised." Sett winked at the man before chuckling at the smile and headtilt. Sett's eyes moved when the other man pointed his friends out, laughing at the raucous group who were now singing America's national anthem in very off key harmonisation.

"They say your friends are a reflection of yourself." He took the card and swiped it through the card reader. Sett then looked over to his customer and grinned. "For my sake, I hope that doesn't include the off key singing." The receipt slid out smoothly from the machine and Sett produced a pen from his pocket for the man to sign. "Can you hold the pen?" He paused before chuckling slightly. "Can you see the pen?"

Sett took hold of the other man's hand and closed it around the pen and slid the receipt over to him. He raised his own eyebrow at the other man's inquiry. "They're college freshmen and I haven't been eyeing them." Sett chuckled lightly. "Just a spot of fun, seeing them giggle. It's almost always the same effect I get. Go figure. They program the girls the sae here in Pilot Ridge I think." He joked.

"You can't be going home already, can you?" Sett asked, his tone of voice suggesting the Frenchman should stay.

[Thomas Lajoie]

And then the liquor hit him.

It began with that wink. In the shallow light of the bar, Thomas was struck with a feeling so intense he nearly made a nervous giggle. The man before him seemed to be glowing (of course, the whole bar was after being so drunk). There was no one else there. Just this bartender. His smile too, which deserved to be acknowledged separately. No human could own that smile - it owned itself. And in this moment, it owned Thomas.

"'ardly my friends - but maybe your enemies. I am thinking they just broke a chair." he said, hearing the splintering of wood, but not turning. His eyes were fiercely locked with the man's. Just the two of them, and his smile. Thomas' eyes jumped briefly from their place to roll in their sockets at the bartenders implication of his inebriation. Yes, he was drunk, but he could hold a pen. And just as soon as he was holding the pen, he realized he was holding his breath.

And the man was holding his hand.

Thomas' heart jumped into his throat, and he was lucky to hear the man explain his situation with the girls over the pulse beating in his ears. He quickly grabbed the mans hand with his right hand, and forced it, palm up, on the table and pushed his palm into it as well. He would not be dominated, or made to be so easily plied. This boy would have to work for it, despite how little work that may take at the moment. He signed the receipt and placed the pen in the man's open hand after removing his own from it's palm. Thomas pulled on his hand slightly, pulling he bartender closer to his face, maintaining that fierce eye contact. He couldn't let this man know how he was feeling, this man was straight. He could be punched in the face - or killed! If that fucking smile didn't stop hsi heart first.

And before he could respond with any ounce of drunken flirtatiousness, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. With the hand he had free, he reached into his jeans and pulled it in eye sight, and once his eyes could focus he read what was on the screen.

Incoming Call
Hammel Institute

Sighing a heavy, adorable sigh, Thomas showed the phone to the man he was gripping. He released his arm, but kept his face equally as close to the mans.

"I'm afraid so, monsieur. Work has me by the..." he paused, and stopped himself from uttering an awful American phrase. "Neck."

And with that, Thomas left the bar without even saying goodbye to his friends, leaving his Visa on the counter, and his heart at the bar.

[Sett Richmond]

"What," Sett looked over the customer's shoulder and sighed before continuing to help the man with his receipt. Noticing something very different about the man as he pulled Sett's hand away, the bartender kept quiet about it and was surprised when he pulled their faces close.

He could blame the man's obvious inebriation for the move, but Sett couldn't blame anyone for the sudden rush of blood to a place that shouldn't have that much blood. Not when he was working at least. The shifter wanted to say something but was interrupted by the sigh, momentarily breaking the spell Sett had seemed to fall under just a split second ago.

What the fuck just happened there?

As he left, Sett's eyes were locked on to the figure moving away from him until it disappeared out the door.

Seriously, what the hell had just happened?

Sett physically slapped himself back to reality and looked down at the receipt on the counter and turned to the card reader and a small smile formed on his lips. He pocketed the card and receipt and continued with his work. He'll just have to find that out from Thomas one day.

[OOC: Lookit confuzzled Sett! Wrapped yo ^^]