Pretend all the good things for you

[shifting]

WHO: Sam Merlotte, OPEN
WHERE: De Chima & other places
WHEN: Throughout the month
WHAT: February catch-all with open starters for his bar. Action or prose welcome!
WARNINGS: TBA


Morning
[given the recent whirlwind of blackout and bullshit (the least of which involved a guard dog role he got more grief than reward for, and the most a body to hide), Sam's downright ecstatic to lose himself in work for a few days. Even with the week's worth of lost revenue, Merlotte's is doing well. Word travels fast in De Chima, and at least for now the good food and imPort novelty has meant steady business.

Sam tends to reserve the mornings for interviews he may have scheduled, happy to chat with a potential hire in a booth or in his office, whichever they prefer. Each applicant gets a handshake, a grin, and the offer of a cup of coffee on the house. This early in the restaurant's life (and with a long memory for the high-turnover troubles at his place in Bon Temps), Sam hardly turns anyone away before he's had the chance to chat with them first. He's got his fingers crossed for more imPort hires in particular, but the ads he's placed online are careful not to mention that. He wouldn't want to look discriminatory.]

Afternoon
[De Chima's a place of businessmen and tech innovators, which means a swarm of quick customers for the lunch hour. So Sam already has both hands full when a weasel-eyed journalist for some sensational periodical strolls in to try and goad the shifter into an impromptu interview. Every time Sam crosses within earshot, here's this little asshole flashing a slick smile and the ugliest gator-skin loafers Sam's ever seen in his life, tossing out boisterous questions: How's Sam's love life? Anybody warming the sheets lately? The papers know he gets around. Guess he's giving the word 'dog' a new meaning, right? And hey, since he let the cat out of the bag - excuse the pun - on that shapeshifting thing, does he mind going into detail on that? Give the people a little taste? And is that a health concern, a guy who turns into animals working in a restaurant? Why hide it for so long in the first place? Or himself, for that matter? Good-looking guy hoping to run his own business, poster boy for a vineyard, and then that run for Ambassador even, and he's never reached out to a single media branch. Does Sam have any answer for people thinking that's kind've weird? You know, they say it's the quiet ones for a reason; they say they're the folks with something to hide. Those are the sorts of rumors people start, he wouldn't believe the shit that gets published these days, and if he'd just sit for a quick interview, they could jump in front of them...

Sam ignores the bastard until the exact moment he can't anymore. He whirls around in the middle of the restaurant to step into the other man's space, barely-leashed anger cording up his forearms and into the set of plaid-dressed shoulders.]

You want some words for your article? Huh? You really want some goddamn words from me?

[the journalist's unperturbed, shit-eating smirk suggests maybe that's exactly what he wants.]

Evening
[the closer the restaurant gets to closing time, the less hustle and bustle left to slog through. Tonight's seen mercifully smooth dinner service, guests coming and going in easy streams. Sam splits his time between his little back-office and the bar, mixing cocktails to get away from inventory orders and sales numbers.]

Get you somethin' cold? [is the little greeting he chooses for the next body to sidle up to a stool, offering a beverage napkin and a friendly smile.]

Or hot, if that's more to your tastes. No judgement. I mix a pretty damn good hot toddy.

Comments

Morning

[maevelous]

[ Many of these porter given jobs are ridiculous, but Maeve finds hers to be more absurd than most. She showed up for a grand total of one whole day before she left and never went back since. And that was all fine and good, but the monthly stipend of $200 wasn't really cutting it.

So she needed a job. Nonah was a boring place to work, but a quiet place to live. And given that all the other cities were only a single step through the porter, it made sense to look elsewhere.

Sam's place is a stepping stone. Something she knows until she can learn something better or obtain something of her own. So once one potential applicant leaves, Maeve takes their place with an air of confidence. ]

Let's cut straight to the chase, darling. It'll be a mistake if you let me walk away without hiring me. Because this place certainly could use a bit of sprucing up, if I do say so myself.

[ Teasing. Saucy. Maeve isn't going to pander to him just because he's the boss. And with any luck, that's something he respects. ]

[shifting]

[now there's an entrance to wake a man up. Sam lifts both brows and straightens in his seat, taking Maeve in like a shot of espresso. Good morning. Between the almost-cold war and nationalist sentiments of this America, diverse accents aren't common. ImPort? he guesses. Could be. They do tend to stand out, and Maeve is nothing if not eye-catching.]

Is that right? [Sam taps his pen against his clipboard thoughtfully, leaning back against the wood of the booth. He might be insulted if he weren't so intrigued.] And what is it you think needs sprucin' up?

[he can feel his lips twitch, wanting to turn up into something amused, but he keeps them schooled for now. He doesn't want her to think he's amused by her, necessarily. It's more the amount of swagger and confidence she's packing in that slim body. You'd never expect it at a glance.]

Might also want to tell me why it is you think you've got the expertise to do that. And - while I appreciate you tryin' to get right down to brass tacks - I could also do with your name. Call it a Southern thing.

[he extends a hand.]

Mine's Sam. Sam Merlotte.

[maevelous]

[ One leg swiftly crosses over the next and she folds her hands on the table before her. After his inquiry about what needs sprucing up, Maeve offers him a mysterious smile and lets it go without comment for now. She'll circle around to it later. ]

Most men are only interested in the assets and nothing else. So I suppose that gives you some points, sweetheart. The name's Maeve Millay. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam.

[ Her attention drifts toward the row of alcohol at the bar, sizing up the bottles on display. It's a healthy stock, but it could always stand to have more. ]

I worked in a bar back home. Or a saloon, more like. [ Her eyes flicker back to Sam. ] I may be a bit old-fashioned compared to this modern world, but I know a thing or several about men and their thirst. And let's face it. I've seen your staff, Mr. Merlotte. Quite a few pretty young girls on board. And I can't shame you for it. They bring in business. But are you well equipped to take care of those pretty girls? This might not be a brothel, but they are no less immune to the wandering drunken hands of men.

I was a madame back home and a damn good one, might I add. I know about business, but I also know how to protect my girls. I can keep out a watchful eye, diffuse a situation before it detonates like a bomb, and not even miss a beat when it comes to serving up a drink to another customer. I'd say my whole presence here would be the spruce up your place needs, but modesty has never been one of my higher traits.

[shifting]

Pleasure to meet you too, Miss Millay. Always happy to earn what points I can.

[A saloon. There this world goes again, proving that imPorts really can come from anywhere and everywhere. Sam has to admit he has a soft spot for Western themes, the old cowboy movies being a favorite from his childhood (and one of the only types of action movies his church-compliant foster parents let him rent). There's a charm to them and to Maeve that even his recent run-in with a certain black-garbed man can't sour.

She has his interest, that much should be apparent.]

Well, you're right that this ain't a brothel. I think that should be made clear. I'll hire male servin' staff same as women if they want the job, and tryin' to lure people in with shapely thighs ain't the focus of my business.

[although she wasn't wrong in pointing out Sam's well-proven hiring trends.]

Merlotte's is more about usin' food and atmosphere to foster community. That's the focus. That bein' said - I think those skills you just listed could be useful for that. This is a job for someone who know how to work with people, which you seem to, and I can always appreciate someone who looks out for their own.

Tell me more 'bout the business side of things and your skills there. Paperwork, management, knowin' how to make people feel welcome - whatever you think you're strongest at.

[maevelous]

I'm an expert at reading people -- at looking at them and knowing what they want before they even do.

[ She takes a moment to look at Sam, to study and assess him as much as he's doing to her. She knows she can get hired here. She knows that Sam will put his trust in her to do the job and do it well. And she knows she doesn't really have to work that hard to sell herself. At least not down to all of her skills and robotic assets. ]

I know how to work a crowd, and I excel at taking my staff, knowing their strengths and managing them accordingly. I also know alcohol. There've been more than a few occasions where I've had to step in for the bartender. Most often than not when he's been killed and we're awaiting a replacement. Which I suppose is also an asset of mine -- being able to handle dangerous situations.

[ Maeve shrugs it off as though it's nothing but common place for shoot outs to happen in the saloon. ]

But I shouldn't be the only one sharing. That makes for a boring and one-sided conversation. So come now, darling. Tell me a bit about you. Is this business something you're happy owning or is it something you're doing because it's something you know how to do?

[shifting]

Knowing people - that's half the job.

[There's nothing fake in Sam's approval, bright and interested in his expression. Knowing people is what allowed a young man without even a high school diploma to open Merlotte's in Bon Temps and start a new life.

Well - that and a big bag of stolen start-up money, but the skill was a necessary key.

There's some obvious confusion (and interest) at Maeve's casual mention of replacing dead men, since last he checked bartending wasn't supposed to be a job with hazard pay, but he shelves his question for Maeve's. Already Sam's thinking a higher position for her than she might expect, so it's only fair to build this bridge with a two-way street.]

I'm happy owning it. I like positions where I can be involved with my community, be a part of the people around me. There's a sense of home in food 'n company. That's what a person's favorite bar becomes for 'em - a second home. And I've always enjoyed providin' that.

And I've gotta tell you, Miss Millay, I've got a pretty good sense you could be a part of that, if you're interested. I think a week's trial basis, and then if we both like the arrangement, I could hire you on as a full-time manager.

Sound good?

[maevelous]

[ It's an honest answer. A good answer. He definitely reminds Maeve of a slightly more scruffy Teddy -- humble and pleasant, but not afraid to stand up for those he cares about. If Teddy was less an adventurer and more a man who just wanted to make his way in the community, he might have been exactly where Sam is now.

But it's the offer that does surprise her. While she knew she would at least get hired on, she figured she'd have to work her way up. The fact that Sam is willing to entrust her with such a high role already means she's already gone above and beyond.

Or maybe it's the cleavage in her corset. It's probably the cleavage. ]

Sounds like a fair deal. We'll both work hard to sell ourselves to one another. I do have to say, it can't be worse than being a Fortune Teller at a Pizzeria. [ Exasperated. ] Yes, that was my porter given job. It certainly didn't last long. I can only predict people -- not futures.

[ She spares a glance around the bar once again. ]

Any reason why you chose De Chima over the other porter cities?

[shifting]

Only seems to make sense to me, since this isn't the sort of situation where you can trade resumes. [the Porter's an unhelpful bitch like that.] You already seem intelligent and confident, so it's more important to me just to test how we get along.

[maybe (hopefully) there won't be as many dead bartenders to deal with, but restaurants still make for stressful employment; he needs to make sure having Maeve by his side will make that easier on him, not harder. He has a good feeling about her, though.

(The cleavage does help.)]

Fortune...? [Sam's trying not to smirk, picturing her at a plastic table in a crowded pizza place, waving her hands over a snow globe for high teenagers and stressed families. He shakes his head.] One of these days I've really got to meet whoever they get to come up with those job assignments.

As for De Chima, this is where I've lived since I came here. And Virginia's nice. Weather's good, the forests are gorgeous... it's close to what I'm used to, back home in Louisiana. Closer'n tryin' to live in Florida, anyway, and Maurtia Falls is too damn cold. I could've gone for Nonah, I guess, but I already like where I'm livin'. I've got a little property twenty minutes out. Do you live here yourself?

[maevelous]

I would be interested in meeting with them as well. They probably get a good laugh only because they never think we would actually come face to face with them.

[ She comments in amusement, one arm idly draping over her stomach, adopting a more casual position than a business-oriented one. They're done with that portion of the conversation, so it's time to learn each other more. ]

I lived in New Orleans temporarily. When I came over from England. I didn't make a life of things there quite obviously, but I can't say it was a terrible place to live. Certainly better than where I was.

[ At least, that's the memory she was given. Truth be told, she never stepped foot in New Orleans a day in her life. But it feels as though she has. Perhaps she should plan a visit. ]

Oh, no. They put me in Nonah. I'm uncertain how long I'll stay there. It is a bit dull, honestly. At least De Chima seems to have a bit of excitement and bustle. Then again, it never hurts to have the place where you lay your head be a bit dull. Makes sleeping a bit easier at night. Can't imagine how the poor sods deal with it over there.

[shifting]

You did? [that alone endears Maeve to him a little more - Sam's a sucker for any taste of home these days. It also means he'll have another discerning tongue to try his recipes and tell him whether he's fucking up the cultural cuisine or not. Sookie's usually too nice to say so.]

To go from England to New Orleans - you'll have to tell me that story sometime. I can't help but think that'd be some hell of a culture shock.

'Course... [he rubs at the scruff of his beard.] ...I guess it can't be much worse than movin' from the time you're from to this one. And with superpowers. ...Actually, yeah, the more I say it, the worse it sounds. But if excitement what you're goin' for, I've got to tell you I'm sure you'll find it here.

[and just to cap off all this old-fashioned, Southernly business dealing right, Sam extends her a hand to shake, grinning broadly. His eyes rake over her again, flickering over her pleasant demeanor, the sharp intelligence of her face and the stylish color in her clothes. Honestly it seems like Maeve's got the sort of confidence and personality that could get her a job most anywhere she liked, but he's not about to ask why she chose his restaurant. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?]

Just hopefully not too much of it in Merlotte's. I really am pleased to have you joinin' me here, Maeve. We can go get some of the details worked out here shortly, but I really do hope we work well together. I've got a feeling we will.