03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
Post by Arturo Diaz de Frontera on Mar 11, 2024 3:07:32 GMT
Once again, the vampire found himself enjoying an evening out. Though this one was more less directed. He didn't often visit the bar, especially considering it was a particular hang out for the werewolves of Sweetwater. But it was also a watering hole. A place to come together. To remember that there was a greater good for everyone if they shared and connected.
He made no grand entrance, but as with most things, his car drew attention. This time, it was the metallic orange Lotus Elise coupe. He wore a cream sweater pullover, comfortable dark jeans and brown leather boots. He took a seat at the bar, offering Bex Brekker a smile. "'Ello there, barkeep. Long time no see," he said in a friendly tone. He recalled the woman had worked here the last time he had been in. She had a sort of wanderlust to her scent that he hadn't thought he would ever see her again. And yet, here she was, tending bar in their own little corner of purgatory.
Once she was finished with her current clientele and task and he had her attention, Arturo leaned forward, elbows on the bar, fingers steepled together. He tilted his hands toward her. "I've decided to put my life in your hands and ask you to make me your signature drink," he posed. He wasn't asking for the bar's, but for hers.
It was a decently busy night so Bex didn't pay too much attention to the newcomer until he had actually sat down at the bar. She smiled at him as soon as he did, ever the friendly barkeep. Smiles were important for tips. She remembered him though, even if she'd only seen him once or twice. It wasn't necessarily his face that stood out, though he was decently good looking if you were into that sort of thing. You know, men. She was not but she could understand the appeal. But no, it wasn't his face that she remembered as much as his general demeanor. There was something about him that was...alluring. He seemed to draw attention wherever he went. "Heya! I'll be right there," she said in reply as she finished up what she was doing.
When she was able to make her way over she leaned over slightly, her palm on the edge of the bar so she could hear him over the chatter of the bar and also to show off her cleavage. All about them tips.
"My signature drink, huh?" she asked with a smile. "Well tell me this, is there anything you like or don't like? Certain alcohols or general vibes? Sweet, sour, bitter?" She'd hate to make him something that he would absolutely hate and some people were more particular than others.
Post by Arturo Diaz de Frontera on Apr 13, 2024 5:14:18 GMT
Arturo leaned on the bar top and watched the bartender work. There was a pleasing sort of movement to her body. Between her tattoos and how clearly comfortable she was behind the bar mixing and pouring drinks. Being a barista was a form of art in his book. He was quite content to watch and wait.
"Ah, no, that's not how this works," he said with a smile. He pulled a five out of his wallet and folded it between his fingers, holding it out to her as an offering. Only to refuse to let it go if she did grab it. Either way, he left it there. "I want your drink. And if you don't have one, make one up. Surprise me," he demanded, firm but playful. At which point, demand made, he would happily part with the bill. No cleavage required.
He had no qualms with any alcohol. Of course he had preferences, but when one lived as long as he had, one drank a lot of the same things. sweet, sour, bitter, and everything in between. Nothing really satisfied like blood, but even a thick Bloody Mary was just an imposter. He got much more out of toying with and learning about the bartender than he did out of a mixed drink.
He corrected her in what he wanted, holding out a small bill and she moved to accept it. Though when she moved to take it from him he did not let it go, feeling the tug of resistance. She grinned curiously, her fingers still holding the money as he told her that he truly didn't have a preference and wanted her drink. Though she had zero interest in men, she had to admit that his playful demand made her blood feel a little warmer. Tucking the five into her pocket safely she smiled. "I think I can manage that," she said with a grin and went to work.
She grabbed a shaker and added ice to it before she grabbed the jigger and started to measure out various alcohols. It was clear she was rather practiced in this. Her movements were fluid and lacked any sort of hesitation. But it was more than just throwing together a recipe. There was an art in it. The dance of the bartender. In the shaker she added equal parts gin, Campari, and sweet vermouth before she shook it up, chilling the liquid against the ice. Pulling out a glass she grabbed a large perfectly square of ice with some tongs, resting one side against a mold that would emboss the ice with the Purgatory logo and placed it face up in the glass so the image could be seen. She strained the drink into the glass in a circular motion and then sliced an orange peel, rubbing it over the rim before adding it to the glass.
She placed a logoed napkin in front of him and then placed the glass in front of him. "A negroni," she said with a wink. It was not a drink that was typically popular with women. It was too strong and too bitter, not nearly enough sweetness, but Bex had always loved them. Classic like an old fashioned but leveled up.
Another guest sat down but she waited with a smile to see how Arturo liked her signature drink.
Post by Arturo Diaz de Frontera on May 15, 2024 20:16:45 GMT
Arturo was here for her dance. Not the sort that some men might prefer from a woman, but it was much more aligned with what he wanted. It wasn't about the drink, it was about the art of making it. It was about getting to watch her work without any friction or resistance or drag weighing her down. Just the bartender and her mosaic of tattoos and that easy focused slant to her eyebrows and the entire bar at her disposal.
Campari, vermouth and gin. It had been a while since he did much with mixed drinks but he knew he knew the name of this one. Somewhere. Mostly he was getting stuck on gin, short version of 'genever,' flavored with juniper berries. Sometimes the amount of random facts and history he had lived through made it difficult to simply recall the name of a drink. The other two alcohols felt very Italian together.
He hummed softly, finding it worth a smile that her drink of choice was a rather strong mix of bitter alcohols only enunciated by the citrus. "An aperitif. Very good," he said, plucking the glass up so he could inspect the color and the fanciful ice cube. He took a sip, keeping his eyes on her and that clever smile of hers. "Bold choice. I like it. Thank you." It certainly had the amount of alcohol he was looking for in a drink. More than that, he was looking to chat, but he knew from just the seats filled at the bar that she was busy. That was alright. He could wait and order more drinks. Perhaps they would get to talk, perhaps he would have to come back another night with more cash.
Bex, of course, always wanted her customers to enjoy what she made them but for some reason she was particularly interested in making sure that Arturo truly liked this. After all, he had asked for her signature drink and not something based on his own preferences. It was more likely that what she liked didn't align with what he liked. But he said he liked it and she grinned. "You're most welcome, let me know if you need anything else and I'll come back to check on you in a bit."
She moved to the new customer to get started on their drink, a simple beer which was the most typical drink she served, but as she worked she found herself continually glancing over to Arturo to check on him. A couple of served drinks later and she moved back in front of him.
"Drink still treating you okay? Is there anything else I can get you? Our full menu is also available at the bar," she suggested. She looked out at the crowd. It was not a live band night but there was still a decent amount of people here. Perhaps he'd be more interested in mingling. "Looks like there are both pool tables and dart boards available too..." Why did she care so much that he was having a good time?
Post by Arturo Diaz de Frontera on Jul 9, 2024 23:40:33 GMT
While Arturo didn't drink heavily, he drank often. As of late, he had become quite a bit bored of his usual favorites and adding blood to wine only took one so far. He had tried many a drink in his time, most much stronger and less sophisticated than what one would find in a bar these days. His tastes had learned to adjust and much like his enjoyment of life, found there was something to be said of the experience. Certain drinks and flavors, like scents, were a window into other times long faded. That was what he was here for.
Besides the view of the bartender, of course. "Of course," he said, watching the woman slide down the bar, pouring beers, mixing drinks, talking to cute and ugly customers alike. Their eyes met a few times, but he would only smile slightly, making no indication her attention was needed just yet.
The negroni was American, if Italian inspired, but as much as he had spent a lot of time in the country ages ago, that was not the memory that surfaced with the drink. The first time he had had one was in the 1920s. It put him just after the Great War, in London, watching the city pull itself back together from zeppelin bombings. It was a bittersweet thought now, knowing it would face more strife not long after. He remembered sitting in a bar in the evenings, drinking to the patter of rain on the windows, the view of the street one of rubble. He'd taken more than his fair share of women home in those days. And men. He remembered spending the early hours of the mornings and evenings working odd jobs. Lamplighter, chimney sweep, mason. But what he had really been doing was getting a good look of the city. The people. A place he had never been before and worried would never see again. There were so many of those and never enough time. Or too much, perhaps. He remembered one morning, being run into by a young woman on a bicycle and once again struggling to remind himself he had only to call for someone and they would be there, rather than tangle yet another poor soul in his web.
Sometimes, it couldn't be helped. Some people found him charming as a person. Others could sense just enough of that je ne sais que that it seemed to pull them in. Perhaps the same was true of the bartender. Especially because he noticed she had a special smile for the women she deemed pleasing.
His distant look flickered away as she spoke to him again. Arturo looked down at his drink, half empty by then. He did follow her gesture to the menu but only smiled and shook his head. "No, no, I like this. And surprises." He took another sip and tilted his head curiously as she continued. He didn't often mingle. For a few reasons but upholding his millionaire aloofness and playboy charm demanded he refrain. Or rather, he demanded he refrain. "They are but one would need some company for that and I already have that right here. Maybe instead you can tell me about you? About why this is your favorite drink? Or your sleeve?" He gestured to her left forearm. Much as he loved the ink on her arms, he knew better than to touch. He wanted to know what brought her here, but he could guess. Besides, what mattered was that she was here.
