[Closed] Happy Birthday to Me (Charlie)

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Intas 21, 2720

A pub in King's Court, evening.

Sebastian was ever thankful for the warmth of his colleagues at the machine shop in which he worked. The owner had known Baz's father back before he took up a teaching position at Brunnhold, and had taken Baz on as a favour. Baz had, so far, made sure the man wouldn't have cause to regret it. The other men had welcomed him with open arms, and despite sticking him with a considerable majority of the dirtier work that came in, had treated him well. He had been set to spend his birthday alone, when his employer and several of the other lads whisked him off to a bawdy little bar not far from where they worked for drinks and a bit of celebrating. The rest of his group had since retired, some of them having families or other obligations to get back to, others needing to be at work bright and early the next day.

Baz, on the other hand, had been granted the next day off, and so had decided to remain at the bar and enjoy a few more beers. He was certain whatever brew it was he was drinking had been quite watered down, but had managed to build up a comfortable buzz and was content to enjoy the atmosphere of the place. The Rose was a melting pot of people and cultures, and pubs and taverns were places that made that exceptionally clear. Baz liked people-watching almost as much as he liked bird-watching. There were some parallels between the two, which amused him.

He watched as a young man, thick with liquid courage, tried to puff himself up enough to convince a charming young lady to join him for the evening in much the same way a bird would, short of hopping about and singing. At least not yet. Baz had to think that with a few more drinks in him, the lad might just be fit to start. Others caught Baz's eye as well, his attention not lingering on any one person for long enough to arouse suspicion or ire. Not through any sort of intentional diversion, really. It was more that new things would catch his attention with enough frequency that no one could really accuse him of staring.

He drained the rest of his beer and flagged down the barkeep, ordering another before turning once more to gaze out at the sea of people.

[Charlie Ewing]

Intas 21, 2720 - Evening
A Pub in King's Court, Old Rose Harbor

Charlie Ewing was already drunk by the time evening started. That wasn't unusual; Charlie started his night early often enough it was hard to say it was "early" at all. The trick--no, hey, look, there was a trick--was to maintain it at just the right level where everything was fun, all the lights so twinkly and everyone his friend, and then just... hold on to it. Not let that slip out of your hands and become Regular Drunk. Regular Drunk was less fun than Twinkly Drunk. So you balanced out your drinks and your snacks and your water, right? And then you could just sort of keep it going. Nice and easy.

Charlie wasn't really Twinkly Drunk right now; he was possibly moving beyond Regular Drunk. It was, by his estimation, not his fault. There were just an awful lot of fields in the bar, and even though the drinks were watered down--well, you have enough of them, and it'll get you there eventually. Helps if you slip in a little something extra from your pocket, too. A lot of something, maybe.

A-li-oe, he was bored. The small mechanic wasn't looking like much of one right now--clean as a whistle and dressed too nicely besides. That had been entirely on purpose; this particular pub never really took to him much when he came rolling in covered in grease and machine filth. Poor taste, by Charlie's estimation: he looked handsome no matter what he wore. Still, he cleaned up nice. So, he came cleaned up tonight. All that work though, and what to show for it? Nothing, that's what. Nobody interesting, and nobody interested either. There had been some ruckus when a group had come in earlier, singing and celebrating--Charlie hadn't gotten a good look at the lucky birthday boy until most of the party had left. Which took a while, and Charlie had gotten distracted by a new bartender on the way.

Now they'd all gone though, so he could look all he wanted. If he could just--focus and find him, again. Brownish hair (there was a name for the color that escaped him at the moment) and freckles. That was what Charlie remembered catching a glimpse of, earlier in the night. How hard could it be to find a freckled golly in Anaxas?

Right. Yeah.

Ha! But there he was in the end, sitting at the bar, flagging down the less new, less pretty bartender. Not a single member of the birthday battallion in sight. Charlie grinned. Maybe he could get less bored. With a ruffle of his dark hair, Charlie stood and crossed through the room like a shark. If sharks were, you know, sort of unsteady on their legs generally speaking and had consumed maybe a little too much liquid bravado. But whatever, that was beside the point. The point was: he was a shark, and the tall freckled thing at the bar looked like a fish if Charlie ever saw one.

"Having fun?" Charlie sidled up to the bar, an amiable smile plastered on his face. Charlie did not, as point of self-preservation, reach out for even a polite caprise when he met someone new. Luckily, this was the Rose, and nobody gave a shit if his manners were poor. What he did do was bow a little, inviting himself to the open seat next to the assumed birthday boy. "Your party seems to have left you."

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Intas 21, 2720

A pub in King's Court, evening.

Baz hadn't noticed Charlie making his way over, and as such, was slightly caught off guard by the voice at his side. His attention snapped to the newcomer, a look of slight surprise and confusion on his freckled face. His gaze lingered, taking in who it was that had decided to join him.

Charlie was a pretty thing, Baz had to admit, all shined up like a new concord. Well dressed and well-kempt. He felt a little drab by comparison. He and the rest of his entourage had come straight from work, and although Baz had had the time and presence of mind to make sure he didn't have grease smeared on his face, he was certainly not dressed to the nines. Charlie was dressed to impress. Rakish, that was the word. He looked rakish. And somewhat familiar, really, though Baz wasn't quite sure why.

His expression shifted into an easy smile as Charlie struck up a conversation. Asked if he was having fun, pointed out that he was alone. Baz rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"A bit less fun now that they've left me to my own devices," he admitted. He had a suspicion Charlie intended to try and change that, but didn't mention it. He feigned a look of hurt. "Some friends, eh?"

His beer arrived, and he took a swig of it. "But oh well," he continued, "Some of them have work in the morning. Can't really blame them for not wanting to stay out all night, I guess."

He shifted in his seat and held out his hand to shake. "Baz," he said, "and you are?"

[Charlie Ewing]

Intas 21, 2720 - Evening
A Pub in King's Court, the Rose

"Some friends indeed," Charlie agreed easily. Up close like this, Charlie agreed wholeheartedly with his initial, more distant assessment: handsome, with an open face and a kind of easy geniality that Charlie only faked. He had the strongest suspicion that this one was for real; how quaint. Charming, really.

The other man continued; it was all Charlie could do to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He could and would blame someone for not staying out all night--they were strangers, after all. Honestly, Charlie could happily have thrown them under the kenser even if they were close comrades if it worked. This might be, just maybe, why Charlie didn't have so many of those.

Charlie looked from the hand held out to him to the handsome face of Birthday Boy--Baz, he'd called himself. In all his years in the Rose, Charlie could admit he had never become quite accustomed to the hand-shaking thing. It was still vaguely distasteful, though he did it enough. There remained a kind of rough-and-tumble, good-old-lads type of feeling to it that was wholly foreign to Charlie Ewing. Or Charlton Almond, but the less said about that miserable sod the better.

Charlie took the offered hand with a firm grip and slightly tilted smile. "Charlie," he said, letting his hand linger just a beat longer than was, maybe, the normal thing to do. "Pleasure to meet you, Baz."

There was a drunken sort of languor to Charlie's movements, which was unintentional but, by his own estimation, very charming. Everything he did was charming by his own estimation. In his defense, it was usually charming to others as well--for a night, anyway.

"What brings you all out here then, if there's work in the morning--and why have you stayed behind?" Charlie leaned his cheek on his palm, the very picture of attentive interest.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Intas 21, 2720

A pub in King's Court, evening.

Charlie. The name suited the face, oddly enough. Rakish indeed, all sharp angles and delicate bones, framed by a charmingly unruly length of dark hair. There was nothing there in those angles, or the bright blue eyes, that sparked any particular recognition, so Baz — for now, at least — let go of any notion of having met the man before. He must just remind him of someone else. The handshake lingered, not overly long, but a bit longer than expected, Charlie’s slender fingers brushing his palm as his hand was pulled away.

“The pleasure is mine, I’m sure,” Baz replied. Or it might be both of theirs. Or neither, he supposed, depending on Charlie’s intentions and what direction the night took from here.

He couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth as Charlie leaned on the bar, face perched on his hand, as though he was hanging on to Baz’s every word. Baz cast a brief glance out into the bar behind them, watching as the cock robin he’d seen earlier headed for the door, having managed to woo the girl he was after. Lucky him. His attention returned to Charlie when he asked why Baz had decided to remain behind, and why he was here at all. Baz smiled, having another drink before he answered.

“Well,” he began, “It just so happens that today is my birthday. I was going to spend it alone, but my boss and some of the lads I work with decided that wouldn’t do. So we came here."

He fiddled with the handle on his mug as he continued. "As for why I’m still here, my aforementioned employer was kind enough to give me tomorrow off. I thought I’d have another drink, and that just about catches you up.”

“Speaking of drinks,” he said, “can I get you one?”

[Charlie Ewing]

Intas 21, 2720 - Evening
A Pub in King's Court, the Rose

"Not yet," Charlie said with a grin that leaned just the slightest bit to the wicked, "but it could be."

Okay maybe that had been a little tacky, a little more direct than Charlie usually tried to be. But whatever, right? He was more than a little drunk and didn't really care. The smirk was encouraging. At least he was pretty sure it was--good taste. Charlie was in a good mood and wasn't going to let a little thing like shame or common decency get him down.

Charlie had definitely already heard the birthday part--it was really hard not to. But he feigned surprise anyway. Like, oh, wow! Your birthday? How terribly thrilling! Charlie sat up a little straighter--only a little, because sitting up seemed like a lot of effort right now. Tocks this Baz fellow was tall though. Charlie was short, he supposed, but even sitting down Charlie could tell that the freckled galdor had something close to a head on him. Not quite human-tall, but definitely bigger than average. That was not in any way, shape, or form something Charlie would complain about.

"Alone on your birthday? Your boss was right--that wouldn't have done at all." Nevermind that Charlie had absolutely spent his own birthday alone just last year. Just Charlie and Tippy and some work he'd gotten to bring home. It was probably one of the best birthdays he'd had since--well. Since school, probably. His family had sent a letter; it remained unopened on his dining table, some seven months later. "But still--lucky me."

Lucky him, indeed. This was actually going really much better than he had expected. Not that Charlie wasn't very attractive and charming, but sometimes that still didn't quite work out in his favor. He had no idea how, but it happened every once in a while.

"Only if I can get you the one after," Charlie said in response to the offer of a drink. Assuming there was a one after--Charlie generally assumed there would be.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Intas 21, 2720

A pub in King's Court, evening.

Baz’s eyebrow quirked rather high at Charlie’s words. Not yet, but it could be. How incredibly forward. It seemed that his first impression was, indeed, correct. The other man had some ulterior motives in his approach past genial conversation, which were now made incredibly and abundantly clear. It caught him off guard, how candid Charlie had been. A grin crept it’s way across his lips, and his cheeks reddened. He quickly made some effort to hide it behind his mug of beer. Whether it worked or not, he didn’t know, but it was worth a try. Never mind that when he blushed, it crept all the way up to the tips of his ears. Couldn't hide those with a mug. Best to hope Charlie wouldn't notice.

He gave a more intentional smile as Charlie sat up a touch straighter upon learning his reason for being out and about. If he’d been in the establishment long enough to see the group Baz had come in with, he probably knew before he’d asked. Chances were the whole bar knew. It was cute, he had to admit, how Charlie acted surprised all the same. His smile grew as Charlie called himself lucky. There wasn’t much being left to the imagination now. It was clear as day what he was after. As for Baz, he normally wouldn’t entertain the thought of picking up a stranger in a pub, but good Lady, Charlie was a pretty one. Baz had just enough alcohol in him that it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world. What was the harm in a little fun? It was his birthday, after all.

“It seems that’s the thought everyone else had,” he replied, “it didn’t sound so terribly bad to me. I suppose, though, if I had spent it alone, I wouldn’t be here talking to you. Lucky for both of us, really.”

Another round of drinks sounded fine to him. He waved over the bartender again, and then turned his attention back to Charlie. “What are you having, then?”

[Charlie Ewing]

Intas 21, 2720 - Evening
A Pub in King's Court, the Rose

The smile that had graced Charlie's face had tilted to the wicked before. As the blush spread across Baz's face, it grew to positively devilish. Sometimes there wasn't anything wrong with the direct approach, Charlie thought. Sometimes the direct approach had entirely unexpected and perfectly pleasing side effects. Baz tried to hide it, which was just--cute, really, that's what it was. Charlie didn't always have a use for "cute"--it often translated to "irritatingly shy" or even, Alioe forbid, "attached"--but tonight he didn't think he minded so much. Tonight it was just fun.

Gods, he really was guttered.

"Lucky us," he echoed. He made a modest effort not to look completely self-satisfied. No more than he usually did, anyway. If he really wanted this to end up the way it looked like it might, though, he really needed to slow down with the drinking. It had been a boring night, up until now. Thank the gods for pushy coworkers, eh? As much as Charlie thanked them for anything.

"A Busy Bee for me, thanks," Charlie said in response to the question. He'd been drinking harder earlier in the night, but cheap beer would probably keep him afloat without drowning him. Probably. He'd find out, really. Baz had waved down the bartender--it was probably good that it wasn't the new pretty one, because flirting with the bartender wasn't a great look at the current moment and Charlie knew he couldn't have stopped himself. Charlie waited for Baz to put in his order too before he started speaking again.

When the bartender moved away to get their drinks, Charlie decided that this was time for some light conversation. Small talk, you know? He didn't make a point of being too terribly interested in other people, but they did like to be asked. And sometimes it proved interesting. Not usually, but that was fine. If you looked good enough, being interesting was usually optional.

"So what is it that you do, if I may ask? A big rowdy group like that--don't tell me. Investment banking?" Charlie waved his hands around as he spoke, gestures adding dramatic emphasis. At the end of it, he raised his eyebrows and waited; his smile was amused.

[Sebastian Morgenstern]

Intas 21, 2720

A pub in King's Court, evening.

Baz tried not to acknowledge the devilish turn Charlie’s expression took. It almost made him wonder just what it was that he was getting himself into. It suited Charlie, though, the devilishness. The grin made him look like an osta that had swallowed a canary. Was he to be the canary, then?

Once the bartender made their way over, he passed along the drink order. A Busy Bee for Charlie, and one for him as well. He turned his attention back to Charlie, watching him as he parroted his own words — lucky us. He smiled, leaning on the bar himself. He couldn’t help but chuckle as Charlie gestured along with his question, and laughed a bit harder at “investment bankers”.

“Oh yes, absolutely,” he said, grinning, “investment bankers throw fantastic parties, didn’t you know? Very rowdy bunch. They have to get all their energy out somehow. Can’t expect them to just sit behind desks all day without some sort of outlet.”

Jokes aside, he gave a real answer next. ”I’m an apprentice at a machine shop near here. We build and repair steam engines, mostly. The owner took me on as a favour to my father. It’s a nice place.”

He left it at that, as their drinks arrived. He gave a polite “thank you” to the bartender, sliding Charlie his Busy Bee and taking a swig of his own. Some group of loud gentlemen came through the door, making it almost hard to hear anything else. Perhaps a pub wasn’t the best place for a chat, but they were here, and their drinks were fresh. Baz took a second to slide his stool a bit closer, lessening the gap between them in hopes that the proximity would make it easier to hear each other over the increasing din.

“How about you, then, Charlie?” he asked, “What is it you do for a living? Surely you don’t spend all your time looking dashing and chatting up strangers in pubs. You must have something else to keep you busy.”

[Charlie Ewing]

Intas 21, 2790 - Evening
A Pub in King's Court, the Rose

"You would be surprised," Charlie said, arching thin dark eyebrows meaningfully. "The most respectable faces tend to give rise to the most debauched of excesses." If there was something tight and bitter to his voice and his smile when he said it, it was slight and not worth commenting on. At least Charlie didn't think so; if Baz said anything, Charlie would just ignore it. It was one of his primary skills, ignoring things he didn't want to talk about.

This time his surprise wasn't feigned at all. He would have guessed something a bit rougher than investment banking, to be sure, but the same general field as himself? Charlie cast around internally, trying to remember. A machine shop, near this pub, that built and repaired steam engines. He bit back the urge to frown; some of his discomfort rippled through his field anyway, weak as it was. His smile didn't falter. Charlie had the distinct impression he had tried to get employed there and it hadn't worked out; his reputation preceeded him.

Their drinks arrived and Charlie bought himself a little bit of time by muttering his thanks to the bartender and starting in on his Busy Bee. A new group came through the door, and they were as meek and retiring as Baz's birthday party had been. Pubs, it had to be acknowledged, were not the best place for conversation. Luckily, Charlie didn't care very much about having them, usually.

Baz slid a little closer; a smirk hovered around the edges of Charlie's mouth. Couldn't let it bloom all the way, of course. He still wasn't entirely certain it was meant to come off as flirtatious as it had. Charlie's own intentions were almost definitely crystal clear, though, so he thought--probably? Like, why else would Baz had done it and not shut Charlie down by now if there was no interest at all? Unless he was truly thick--which was possible, but Charlie didn't think so. At least he hoped not, as that was a different hurdle he was too drunk to surmount with much (or any) grace.

"What a coincidence!" His voice was as smooth as he could make it, given the slightly sloshy feeling of the inside of his head. "While indeed being this pretty does take up quite a lot of my time," Charlie said with a laugh and a slight angling of his body so he was even closer, "you're right; I just can't seem to go professional. I'm a mechanic. I've been, uh, taking on some freelance work here and there, you know. To broaden my options."

Yes, that sounded reasonably respectable. And it wasn't his fault that no employer seemed to value skill over social graces. It was their loss, really, all of them. All six of his previous employers--they just didn't know what they were missing.