The Grand Opening of Merlotte's Bar & Grill

[shifting]

WHO: Sam Merlotte and hopefully a whole mess of imPorts!
WHERE: Merlotte's Bar & Grill, De Chima
WHEN: Mid-December
WHAT: After much anticipation, some contracting woes, a failed election bid and one super sweet cash infusion, Merlotte's is ready to have its opening night. Let's mingle, y'all.
WARNINGS: n/a

[the only upside to losing an election was more time to focus on getting his bar ready and opened. Time it turned out he needed, as contractor setbacks and a wrong food order pushed the opening day back a few precious weeks. But tonight's the night - the bar is stocked, wood polished, lights lit, and Sam himself is cleaned-up in a nice shirt and jeans, ready to greet what he hopes is a good and hungry crowd. He's impressed himself with how good the place looks, a testament to what one can do with the backing of a generous investor.

The menu is Southern comfort pub food, with a smattering of Louisiana-particular dishes intended to excite: boudin and rice for one, shrimp gumbo for another, and beignets just for this month. Who doesn't love pastries around the holidays? The bar, the restaurant's obvious main feature, is wide and well-stocked, with De Chima Vineyards the house wine of choice, five local drafts on tap, and a wall of shining liquor bottles. A large chalk board proudly proclaims the shot special of the evening:

A Chill Ton
– 1/2 oz. Goldschlager
– 1/2 oz. Baileys
– 1 splash of Bacardi 151
– a cinnamon rim, ignited with a match

"Sure to fire up its drinkers and leave them with a headache, this blow-hard shot goes down like a bitch."
Everyone walking through the doors will get to enjoy special discounted prices this evening, and imPorts in particular get one free drink. The pool table and dart board in the corner are sure to see some use, a DJ rented for the evening has set up karaoke for the more adventurous, and those looking to enjoy a quieter night can enjoy the fire pits crackling away on the patio. Sam himself will be found chatting up everyone he can, at times helping to serve drinks and run food, but otherwise eager to mingle and get feedback from his guests. This has been a long-time coming, and he finally both looks and feels like he's in his element.]

Comments

Daisy Johnson | OTA

[morethan084]

[While Daisy's had some experience with bartending, she's a bit out of her depth with serving. She really was trying though, even if she did switch up a table's order with another.

When she has a free moment she's watching the karaoke take place, and it honestly gets more amusing as the night goes on and people are further along in the amount of drinks they've had.

Most of the night though is running back and forth between the kitchen and the tables. As well as trying to dance around personal questions the natives seem to want answers to, as if they had a right to ask them to begin with.]

[wordaday]

[After she gets an earful from someone about a food mixup for the third time, Sookie decides enough is enough and hunts down the waitress she thinks might be the root of the problem. Daisy, Sam had told her, another imPort, and she's looking a little lost.]

Honey, you doin' okay?

[Sook takes her by the arm gently, pulling her behind a wall partition so her camera crew doesn't get a good shot. She's not mad, not at all, but on a big night like this it's easy to get overwhelmed. Her fragile mental shield is stressed enough.]

I've got a few tables saying that got the wrong food.

[divaricate]

[At one of Daisy's free moments when she's standing off to the side and observing karaoke, Wanda spots her and gets up from her own table to walk over to her. It's been a bit since she's spoken to Daisy; she offers her a smile.]

You should definitely go next. [on karaoke.]

Frederick Chilton | ota

[slightlyoffchilt]

A Chill Ton.

[He frowned while speaking the words, verbal movement that demanded a sneer. The ribbing did not elude him. Perhaps, he reasoned, he ought to be flattered that Sam Merlotte dedicated such attention to him. Perhaps he ought to engage the obvious nascent obsession, humor it for the sake of analytic study. For the sake of science.

He needed a drink.]

A round of Chill Tons.

[Sarcasm, the obvious garnish.]

[shifting]

I've got this one, Jessie. [this to the busy bartender Chilton had just addressed, nodding the woman off.] You go on and work the other end.

[some things are best handled personally, particularly when it provides a generous angle from which to view the good doctor's irritation. He'd intended to pay Chilton back eventually for that too-public jab a while back, and hell if the money rolling in off these nominal shots doesn't feel like a debt repaid.]

I can pour you two at a time. Virginia law. [smiling and at ease, his hands going through the practiced motions of rimming the glasses and mixing the liquor. Blue eyes flash up with good humor as he tops them off.] Now, you're gonna want to blow them out before you drink 'em down.

[which is when he lights the shots with the click of a lighter and a showman's flare, the cinnamon rim crackling beneath a short, yellow flame.]

Sookie | OTA

[wordaday]

[There's a 90% chance that Sookie is the first person in all of history to be relieved to go back to her old waitressing job. It's not quite the same- no sticky floors, or sticky tables, or sticky brother and his friends getting a beer right off work- but it's comforting to be working in a place with the same name for her same boss. The new uniforms are cute too, and she has to admit that she likes 'em a lot more than white polos and t-shirts. Number one reason, ketchup stains won't show as bad, thank the lord.

While she hustles around the place expertly taking and delivering orders, Sook's followed by a camera crew of three. Two for the video and sound, and one surly looking dude with a clipboard standing off to the side desperately trying to dictate what's going on in front of him. If she's taking your order, chances are he'll ask you to to say a specific thing or order something else, or spill something on someone else. It's up to you if you listen, but she's ignoring him with all the effort she's got.

Break time can't come soon enough.]

[shifting]

No complaints, no vampires tossin' people from one end to the other, no murders in the parkin' lot... I'm startin' to wonder if I spelled the name on the sign wrong.

[dark humor maybe, but one Sam hopes his head waitress would find to be familiar, common ground - a shadowed little in-joke for two Bon Temps refugees.

Sam's grinning when he steps up behind her, hands in the pockets of his jeans. They're off a wait, the place lively but no longer chaotic. A moment of almost down-time he can use to mingle and check in with the woman helping to make this possible. ...And her camera crew. Unfortunately. But Sam's put in a solid effort to ignore them most of the night and isn't about to ruin his record. (Although he'd put his foot down about them trying to get into the kitchen; like hell he was going to let his ass get sued because one of these fancy-shoed fuckers went sliding on a lemon or a streak of grease.)]

Any troubles yet?

[snoobs]

What would you recommend?

[ Hemali's accent gives away the fact she isn't American-born, thus Louisiana styled food and drink is completely unfamiliar to her outside what Sam has already cooked her.

She's seated by herself at a table, dressed maybe a little too fancy for the opening of a bar of all things, but she looks quite comfortable in her solitude. ]

Mark Vorkosigan | OTA

[jacksonian]

a. Walking in
[ Mark walks in with his usual air of oily aloofness, hands in his expensive suit pockets, trying hard not to look impressed or happy by how the place turned out. But it does look good. Sam clearly used the money effectively; the aesthetics (as much as Mark has a sense for aesthetics) are impressive and elegant, the menu well-rounded, the drinks well-stocked, the crowd well-heeled. The vague sense of contentment doesn't only come from his power (though his power is fizzing up, assuring him that in spite of the discounts and the giveaways tonight will be profitable), but also from a little wave of pride. Merlotte's Bar and Grill, a Mark Pierre Vorkosigan enterprise. Yeah. That's something to be satisfied by. ]

b. At a table
[ Later, he orders a plate of those beignets. And when he bites into one, his air of ironic distance melts completely away. They're so good that he forgets to keep up that posture; instead, his face comes open in wonder and delight and hunger. And for a brief moment, with a smear of powdered sugar on his nose, he actually looks seventeen years old, and he actually looks happy. ]

Oh, wow.

c. Circulating
[ Of course, it's not all fun and games. Later in the night, he goes up to people, running a quick informal customer satisfaction survey. ]

Hello. Mark Vorkosigan. Tell me, was there anything lacking from your experience tonight? Anything you want to see in the future?

B

[wordaday]

[Sook is actually on her way to her blessed dinner break, but she keeps getting pulled aside by her producer to talk to more people at each table, for filler shots, she guesses. The end is almost in sight, the door to the patio is right there, but here's a customer who actually needs a little help.

UGH, she might as well.]

Here, you might need these.

[Sookie fishes a stack of napkins out of her apron, slides them across the table with a helpful smile.]

Got a little bit of sugar on your nose.

C

[purple_reign]

[Inanna tilts his head curiously and hums around a mouthful of food before answering.]

Vorkosigan, hm? Well, no, there wasn't anything I thought was missing. It was a fine evening.

Kitty Jones, OTA

[rathercommon]

a. At the bar
[ Kitty comes into the bar, checks the place out - and then reads that drink special and immediately goes to the bar to get someone's attention. She raps her knuckles on the wood and calls out - ]

'Scuse me. The description of the Chill Ton drink is sort of misogynist. You ought to change the wording, please.

b. At the dart board
[ Kitty hasn't ever played darts before, and so it takes a little while to get used to the shape and weight of the projectiles. But, hell, she's a practiced knife-thrower; after a brief learning curve, she starts throwing in earnest. After the third bullseye, she steps back and looks very pleased with herself. And she throws out an invitation to someone nearby: ]

Don't suppose you'd like to wager a bit of money on this.

A

[wordaday]

[Sookie doesn't really do the bar, but she's back here while the current bartender runs outside for a much needed smoke. She's pouring a few pitchers of beer for a table, when she's inturrupted but some girl knocking at the wood in front of her insistently. She prickles, but quickly smooths herself out and slaps on her finest "happy to serve you" face.

Though, it's kind of hard to suppress an eye roll so intense, her eyes would fall out if she indulged. Honestly?]

Thank for bringing it to our attention, I'll let the owner know when I can.

A

[brushoff]

They should have named it the Kitty Jones because you regret it as soon as you lay eyes on it.

[ it's your favorite person ever, Kitty. Dorian looks remarkably out of place considering that he's wearing designer slacks and a way too expensive sweater, but hey, it's a bar opening, of course he's going to be here. ]

A

[slightlyoffchilt]

I do not think it should be named whatsoever.

[Said the namesake, already feeling tipsy on a couple doused Chill Tons.]

Should be nameless -- better mystique.

[shifting]

You tryin' to fleece my customers already? [a grin and a cocked eyebrow from the man of the hour. The staff has finally found a rhythm with the flow of customers and gawkers alike, so Sam has a minute to wander over and greet a friend.] You ought to at least wait 'til more of them are further in the sauce, you're missin' out on a huge advantage here.

...Not that it looks like you need more of one. [with a glance at the bullseye.]

Dorian Gray | ota!

[brushoff]

a: food option
[ So, for someone who's traveled all over the place, Dorian hasn't really been to New Orleans. He's been to Florida and the Everglades plenty of times, but not New Orleans. As such, this is his first time actually eating a beignet.

And holy shit. These are so good.

Dorian's on like his fifth beignet trying his hardest to look put together and classy. The fact remains that there's a little bit of powdered sugar on his expensive slacks and right now he's trying his hardest to figure out a way to eat the beignet without getting powdered sugar on his equally expensive sweater. It's a little amusing watching him struggle cause hoo boy is he struggling. ]

b: karaoke
[ Oh my God he's so doing karaoke. Dorian is a fairly decent singer (he used to be in a band, after all) but that doesn't mean that people really want to hear his varied (and slightly dubious) taste in music. After arguing with the DJ about what do you mean you've only got one Adam and the Ants song, they had plenty of hits, Dorian's become a regular on the karaoke side of things, performing songs that range all over the place, from the Kinks to Culture Club to Oasis.

He's also been hogging the mic. Karaoke = people paying attention to him!

So, as he pours over the songbook, Dorian frowns a little, obviously trying to decide on what to go next. He gestures for whoever's standing near him to take a look. ]

Tacky 1980s new wave or tacky 1980s Europop. Take your pick!

A

[shifting]

[Sam's initial reaction to seeing the contentious immortal in his bar was a (in his opinion) well-earned annoyance. But he could be the bigger man and ignore Dorian, especially if there was a chance Toby would be working his bar some nights. Had to wonder if the married couple had that conversation yet, considering Dorian's never seemed to fond of Sam either. Likely even before he threw Dorian through that window.

But when he spots Dorian going to town on some of the house-made beignets, obviously enjoying them and obviously wishing he had a fork and knife for those tasty morsels. The effect is almost endearing, and definitely satisfying enough for Sam to wander by his table.]

Need some napkins? ...Maybe a bib?

Tohru Adachi | OTA

[sleight_of_hand]

[ Like hell Adachi wasn't going to say no to a new bar opening up, even if it was in a different town. He made it a goal to make sure he knew all the bars, which ones were good, bad, or a good place to hide in if you needed time away. This was definitely going in the "good" category, just by looking at the setting, but the menu made his stomach do a flip. Why did he get the feeling all that was stupid levels of spicy? Geeze, Americans... ]

[ The shot of the day caught his attention though, and he grinned at that. Goes down like a bitch, hunh? Challenge accepted. ]

I'll take one of those Chill Tons.

[ He was totally going to regret this, wasn't he? ]

[slightlyoffchilt]

You might do better trying anything else.

[Said Doctor Chilton, though now he was reluctant to introduce himself. All part of Sam's conniving, brutal plan -- he would assert.]

daenerys targaryen. closed to sam merlotte.

[jalan]

[ There's a girl who hasn't arrived that long ago but has yet to take off her coat. She hadn't intended to stay very long.

But Daenerys finds herself sitting, anyway, drawn to the firepit. She is nearly nondescript in fabrics of greys and blues, a woollen coat and a knitted scarf, all modern cuts and techniques -- necessities of the mild Virginian winter she'd travelled through. Her spill of silver-blonde hair is light-catching and woven into braids, fashions of another world, distinct to her. The promise of a free drink for imPorts means she has a wine in her hand, a fat glass of dark red.

Content to sit and drink and scry her thoughts in the flames, Daenerys only looks up when she hears Sam Merlotte's voice drift nearby, and so she stands in a formal, expectant sort of manner, in order to best net his attention. ]

[shifting]

[Sam's riding a high of well-wishers and good company. Months of planning and setbacks, but he has it now - something tangible to cling to, make his own. For just a minute, seeing that neon sign light up with his name on it, this world felt a little more like home.

Ostensibly, he steps outside to check on things, but the breather doesn't hurt. Muted celebration and music hum in the backdrop as he collects a few empty glasses from abandoned tables, only glancing up when a woman stands from her seat to greet him - a woman whose smell Sam remembers.

The look on his face suggests this is a surprise.]

- Hey. [a pause. He sets down the bundles dishes in his hands, wipes his palms against his jeans. Suddenly awkward. He glances briefly behind him, as if making sure there's no one to overhear.] Little surprised to see you here tonight. You... enjoyin' yourself so far?

[a valid question considering he knows next to nothing about Daenarys, beyond her connection to a fire-breathing beast and what it feels like to have her slim weight atop his back.]

Not too cold?

Miles Vorkosigan | OTA

[dendarii]

[ True to his word, Miles is gladly here for the bar's opening. He's utterly fascinated by the spread of food even as he's mystified by the logic behind it. Give him Russian or even regular French food and he's good; Southern food, on the other hand, is totally alien to him. Especially this stuff that seems sort of French but ... not. ]

I'm not sure boudin is supposed to look like that.

[wordaday]

[Oh, mister. There's Southern food, and then there'there's Louisana food. It's another class in and of itself.]

Nope, that's what it's like! You sure you're not thinking about andouille? Because it's a little more sausage-y kind of sausage.

[So helpful. Oh so helpful.

Oh hey you look just like the guy horfing down beignets.]

Inanna | OTA

[purple_reign]

[At some point during the evening Inanna appears in a cloud of sparkles. There just isn't any other way he'd ever want to make an entrance; it's this or nothing. He picks out a spot on the bar to order himself a plate of beignets and listen to the people brave enough to try out karaoke. And eye the evening's special.]

Sounds like someone wasn't a fan of this fellow.

[slightlyoffchilt]

On the contrary, Sam and I are. Such. Great. Pals.

[Chilton already had a few of his christened drinks underway.]

will graham & dog | ota

[infomodder]

[Will Graham might look like the owner of Merlotte's at first glance. Somehow he managed to pick out an outfit damn near identical to Sam's. He notices that the moment he lays eyes on Sam and can't help but smile. But the best handsome boy is the delightful Sharkbait at his heels, attentively keeping in line without need for a leash. He will gladly eat food tossed his way, on the floor or at his mouth. He will make many friends tonight; Will plans to make neither friends nor waves.

Will can be found watching Sharkbait meander and try his luck, eyes on the dog until he knows for certain Sharkbait won't be considered unwanted or treated poorly. He can be found wallpapering it up near the wallpaper, sitting with Sharkbait in his lap or at his feet, wolfing down the gumbo like he hasn't ever tasted something so delicious before (he has, but it was people). (Sharkbait has, too, but it was not people.)

He cannot, of course, ignore an item like A Chill Ton. Once he realizes it's aflame, though...the drink seems to spark something less lively in him. He stares at it and drinks it down like a bitch, because that's exactly what Will Graham deserves from Frederick Chilton, and then he orders more. Because he deserves it. He deserves the headache.

Everything happens so much.]

[brushoff]

[ Dorian is drunk. Like, hammerdrunk at this point. He's been doing karaoke, had one too many Chill Tons and has settled into that happy state of drunkness and oh my god dog? Dog!!! Dog.

For someone who's all 'oh blah blah blah, I'm Dorian and I'm too good for a lot of things like dog fur on my clothes,' drunk Dorian has a lot less of those hang-ups. Doggggggggg.

So, as Will stares down the Chill Ton, Dorian just kind of meanders over to pet Sharkbait. Because he recognizes that dog. It's Will and April's dog! Ooh, is April here, he can probably convince her to do karaoke. They can do an awful duet. Maybe he can convince April to join him on Cyndi Lauper, that would definitely be more to her taste.

Sharkbait's getting belly rubs when Dorian realizes that oh. Sharkbait's other owner is here tonight. He's interrupted from some half-assed baby talk that never really gets past the "whoza good boy" to find that oh. Will's there. At the bar. A few feet away from him. ]

Oh! Well, this is odd. [ paaaaaaause. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, Dorian asks, ] I don't think I can convince you to do karaoke either, can I?

[ we all know Hugh Dancy can sing, GIVE IN TO IT, WILL. ]