[LOG] The new bartender

[worldofice]

Who: Atobe, Kikumaru and Oshitari
What: The hiring of Kikumaru
Where: The Ice Bar
When: Just before Eiji is hired (close to the start of game-play)
Warnings/Notes: Acrobatics with expensive beverages. (None)


Atobe leaned back against the Ice Bar’s quartz countertop and tried to pretend he was not exhausted. However, unless under-eye shadow was the latest trend in make-up, the scion and bar proprietor was in urgent need of assistance.

Within hours of the Karura docking at the space station port, Atobe’s assistant bartender had disappeared. No reason had been given, although Atobe’s suspicions were directed towards a certain violet eyed bounty hunter. However, this meant little both because Yukimura’s involvement could never be proven, and because Atobe pretty much always suspected him. Now one week after her arrival, Karura was due to depart and Atobe had still not found replacement staff.

“I will clearly have to manage this myself,” he told Oshitari Yuushi, who had joined him in the bar before its opening that evening.

Yuushi raised an eyebrow, taking in the distinctly less-than-pristine appearance of his friend, and he didn’t need his medical degree to tell that that was certainly not the case.

“And as you do, do you intend to continue to look like you’ve been working a part time shift inside the ship’s engines?” he asked dryly. “You need to hire someone, ideally before we leave the station and I am forced to put you on life-support.”

Atobe unthinkingly raised one hand and rubbed it over his cheekbone, producing a rasp as his fingernail met the day-old stubble. It was arguably fashionable, but only arguably.

“Ridiculous,” he told Oshitari flatly. “Those machines are hardly form-fitting. I will not be seen within one.”

He turned to scan the shelves of pristine bottles behind the bar, mentally wondering if any one of them contained enough energy to keep him vertical through the long nights of business before Karura made her next stop. The answer also did not require Oshitari’s medical knowledge. He closed his eyes momentarily, exhaling through his nose in exasperated acknowledgement.

“If a remotely suitable candidate appears this afternoon, I will hire them,” he said. “But I will not compromise the Ice Bar by placing an incompetetant amataur before my clientele.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Yuushi said, getting up from the barstool he was on. He was already thinking about the sprightly, somewhat adorable redheaded chef he’d met at the teppanyaki restaurant he had dined at the night before. Certainly a little too colourful for the elegant surroundings, but he had a feeling it might work out in everyone’s favour. If not, well, he would then owe Atobe, and he was sure his friend would enjoy having the leverage.

“I’ll see what I can do, mm?” he said with a tiny smirk, leaving the bar to catch the next shuttle down.

* * * *

Eiji fidgeted all the way up to the awesome wheel-looking spacecraft. It was the biggest ship he’d ever seen, and definitely looked cool enough for him to want to work there. The weird kinda flirty guy from the night before had turned up at the restaurant again with a job offer, and insisted that Eiji accompany him to the ship - the Karura - as soon as possible for an interview.

It was only when they were on the ship that the man - Oshitari, the ship’s doctor - told him that the bar was owned by a man named Atobe, and Eiji knew that name, just like everyone else in the known universe probably did. When he stepped into the elegant, really fancy looking bar, he had to pause to swallow, hard. This was way out of his league!

Oshitari took one look at him and chuckled (this was not funny!, Eiji pouted inwardly). “Good luck,” he said mysteriously, and left him to whatever awaited him inside.

Atobe looked up as the Ice Bar’s doors slid open to reveal a redheaded individual who was clearly lost. Doubtless he was looking for a common fast food chain or a circus he could be sold to for lion meat. “This is not the establishment you are looking for,” he told him, and returned to scanning the account sheet for the bar’s monthly intake.

“Atobe!” Eiji exclaimed, recognising the man immediately, then slapped his hands to his mouth because that was probably the worst way to start an interview. “I’m Kikumaru Eiji,” he said, starting over and making his way over to the famous rich man who he was trying to convince to be his boss. “I’ve been working at Hibiki’s Hibachi till - like - just now, but the doctor guy said I could work as a bartender here? I’ve got loads of experience doing stuff so -” He remembered what Atobe had said and continued, “This is definitely the establishment I’m looking for!” He finished with a little v-sign and a grin.

Atobe slowly raised his head once again from his account book. “The… doctor… guy,” he repeated slowly. Not that this was a question: Atobe could well imagine who had been the helpful intermediary in this rendez-vous. The query would be exactly how Oshitari Yuushi would explain this… individual… as a ‘suitable candidate’. Nevertheless, if he did not demonstrate the excitable chipmunk’s ineptitude, Oshitari would doubtless claim Atobe’s famed insight was damaged by lack of sleep.

“This…” Atobe forced the ridiculous name from his lips, “Hibiki’s Hibachi… what makes you believe it qualifies you to tend the Ice Bar?”

“Weelll,” Eiji began, counting off the points on his fingers “Like I said, I’ve worked at a ton of places before - I’ve even helped look after a buncha space boar-things once - but! Bartending’s all about mixing stuff together, right? I’m awesome at that! I can even do it in ways so that nothing explodes! Plus I’m a great cook, just ask Hibiki!” He paused, wondering if someone important like Atobe knew his old employer. “Hibiki from Hibiki’s Hibachi, I mean.”

“I surmised,” Atobe said dryly. How had his afternoon deteriorated to interviewing a cultureless urchin whose experience appeared to involve selling home brew at a pig rodeo? Life support had never looked so appealing.

This debacle needed to be finalised so Atobe could attempt a few hours sleep before the Ice Bar’s opening that evening. He snapped shut his account book and met the wide blue gaze of the rodeo rookie. “Mezcal Mule, an Arcturus and a Martini,” he told him crisply.

The first two drinks were complex while the third was deceptive. The Ice Bar stocked several different types of gin, but only one would had the delicacy needed for a Martini fit to serve its clientele. If the urchin used vodka, Atobe would have him cast into space.

“Mix those to my satisfaction and the position is yours.” Atobe offered his interviewee a cool smile and indicated the shelves of bottles behind him.

Eiji blinked. “Mix wha-?” He shook his head clear quickly. “O-kay!” he said, vaulting the bar counter smoothly to get to work. He started off on the easy one - the Martini, and he studied the bar shelf for everything he’d need. Scrunching up his face, he scanned through the gins and picked the one he liked best - it wasn’t as weird and paint-remover smelling as the others. He served it up in a martini glass - ‘cuz that’d be a rookie mistake and Atobe didn’t look forgiving.

Confident in his first drink, he added a bit of theatrics for the second and third, juggling bottles before he tipped them into shakers and serving up the drinks with a flair. “Order’s up!” he announced, presenting them to his maybe-boss for inspection.

Atobe winced at the unhirable circus bait’s shoes soared over his pristine bar top. He was shortly forced to look away entirely as the pearlescent collection of the Ice Bar’s bottles spun around his head. If a single one broke, he was billing the Karura’s senior medical officer. Then … three drinks.

The slate-grey eyes narrowed as each beverage was inspected. The glass type was correctly chosen and the colour was the accepted hue for the requested cocktails. Atobe lifted the Arcturus by the glass stem and flicked the rim. A shimmer ran down the liquid, turning the aqua-marine blue a rippling scarlet.

An eyebrow raised.

Surprising.

For that effect to be successful, the liquor proportions had to be near perfect.

The sharp gaze returned to the drinks’ creator. “How long have you been mixing cocktails?” he inquired.

Eiji hopped impatiently from one foot to another as he waited for Atobe to finish his inspection, and looked at his watch to answer his question. “I kinda helped at a bar a coupla years ago- sooo three days ‘n twenty minutes~” he announced. “Are they good?” he asked, giving Atobe what he hoped was a scrutinising gaze to figure out what he was thinking.

“I kinda think they look pretty perfect, but you’re the boss, soo… plus you gotta taste ‘em. But don’t get drunk!” Because then where would he be?

Atobe attempted to process the nonsensical answer to his straightforward inquiry, before realising it would likely take more time than this vagabond's bartending experience. That alone should have meant an instant dismissal from his presence. Yet, to produce the complex colour changing Acturus on so little training… it was passingly intriguing. Atobe lifted that glass and sniffed. Then he raised it to his lips, allowing a sample of the liquid to roll over his tongue.

“I do not get drunk,” he informed the redhead disparagingly. The Ice Bar’s stock was to be savoured, not guzzled for drug-induced euphoria.

He placed the glass down on the counter and lifted the Mezcal Mule. The milky coloured liquid infused his mouth with sweet and sour aftertastes. Finally, he lifted the Martini, sniffed and sipped. The eyebrows raised a second time. It was the right bottle. He placed the glasses back on the counter and considered them for a long moment. Then he lifted his eyes back to the clown before him. His scrunched up face suggested he had worms.

“You will require training,” he informed him crisply. “We do not spin bottles or juggle glasses in the Ice Bar.” He thought back over their exchange in the last thirty minutes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do not talk with the patrons. Any questions?”

The correct response to this would be ‘no’. Atobe already held out little hope for correctness.

Eiji decided to word his protest in the form of a question. “But spinning bottles ‘n stuff is fun? People like that kinda stuff…?” Because nobody wanted a bartender who just boringly poured your drinks. Where was the appeal in that? “Who’s gonna train me? Are you? ‘N what if patrons talk to me?”

Atobe resisted the urge to put his head down on the countertop. He then resisted a stronger urge to bang his new bartender’s head on that same countertop. “At the Ice Bar,” he said with deliberate care. “Our patrons” --he stressed the the term-- “come for class, not clowns. The showpiece is the drink itself, made perfectly and presented with exquisite attention to detail. Silently,” he added. He took a breath, realising the awful truth of his next statement. “I will train you. You will arrive back here at 7. Wear black.”

Eiji pursed his lips. He was still sure people would like having drinks that had previously been flying through the air, but he could probably convince Atobe of that.

“It’s not being a clown! Clowns are way cooler than bartenders,” Eiji scoffed. He figured he could convince Atobe eventually. “Black what? Do I hafta wear a tie?”

Atobe stood, walking to the door of the Ice Bar and indicating with a gesture that the babbling lunatic he had hired should exit before him. “Black everything,” he told him. “Black trousers, black shirt, black socks, black shoes. If it is on you, it is black. Clear? You do not have to wear a tie.” Atobe could see anything loose was asking for still more problems. “You are on probation until the New Year, during which time you can be dismissed without recourse.”

It was only halfway out the door with a mental list of all the black stuff he was going to have to buy that Eiji realised two important facts: one, he could lose his job any time if Atobe wanted and what did someone do if they lost their job on a space ship? Did they get flung off? That would be pretty awful.

But more importantly, TWO, he had a job on an actual space ship!!!

He stepped out spun on his heel and just stopped from hugging Atobe because the man looked like he might fling Eiji into space right then if he did. He did, however, cheer and hop nearly a foot in the air in his excitement because job on a space ship!!!. “I’ll see you at seven!”

The expression on Atobe’s face resembled a man who had been force fed multiple lemons. He let the door to the Ice Bar click shut before turning away. Only at the last minute did he pause. “What did you say your name was?”

Eiji was sure he’d started off by stating his name - which was the first rule of job interviewing - successful job interviewing, as he’d just proved (mwahaha!). However, Atobe wasn’t looking very good so maybe he was just sick. “Kikumaru Eiji,” he repeated for his new employer’s benefit, “But there’s loads of us Kikumarus, so you can just call me Eiji, boss~”

Kikumaru. Even the name sounded ridiculous. And apparently, it was also common. How wonderful. Atobe did not turn back around as he started walking once more. “Kikumaru-kun, welcome to the Ice Bar.”