(2018-09-22) Bar RP - darts and gender issues
Random bar RP including a dart game. Sadly, I lost the +rolls. :(
Players:
ethan..jo..kyrie..luke..maddie..

The Boardroom

An old-school layout puts a wooden bar in the center of this small, hole-in-the-wall establishment, lacking for things like "free wi-fi" and slick interior design. The whole place has fewer than ten small, round tables with mismatched chairs scattered across the wooden floor and one curved bar in the middle with five stools in front of it. This is not the place to come asking for specialty liquors, but it's a decent joint if you're looking for some place downtown, and the location means it turns a good bit of business on a weekend. The food menu is limited: wings, fries, chili dogs, hamburgers, typical bar-food coming out of a tiny kitchen through the back. But there are decent beers on tap, and you can get a middle-of-the-road cocktail for a not-unreasonable price. There's one, good-sized TV stuck to the wall next to the bar, inevitably tuned to sports, and every other spare space on the wall is occupied by a random assortment of decorations - advertisements for liquor or local businesses, a smattering of framed photographs of South American scenery, pennants for the Rockies and the Broncos, and a dartboard at the back. The smell of beer, peanuts, and patrons hangs in the air, often battling with whatever song someone convinces the old-school jukebox to pump out.


It was early in the evening, which means the Boardroom wasn't yet hopping and popping. A few locals have filtered in to take up spots at the tables and a few at the bar, and one of those locals included Luke, who'd found himself a stool early on in the evening. A still slightly more than half-full glass of beer sits to his right, and his attention seems mostly placed on the television, which was tuned into one of the evening football games.

Jo has her place just down the road, and since she doesn't actually know anywhere else to drink in town.. here she is, stepping inside the door. Red hair is long and loose for a change, over feminine long sleeved blouse in deep green. Jeans are just jeans, but she's wearing boots with a heel and not her combats, for a change. She'll head for the bar with the barest of glances around… she doesn't know enough people yet, before she'll grin. A hand will reach out to touch Luke's shoulder as she pulls up a stool. "Doctor Swipe Wright. How's it going?"

The Boardroom weathered the storm, though there are still signs up about the kitchen offering 'limited' options (basically it's just nachos and chili dogs, fryer's down), and there's still a lingering damp smell in the air as of drying wood, but it's mostly 'business as usual.' It's still early, so the regular bartender isn't here yet, just Ethan and a waitress muddling through drink orders, with the former right now leaning a hand on the bar so he can keep an eye on the same TV that has Luke's attention. "When the Rockies game starts, we're changing the channel. Better brace yourself," he comments at the beginning of a commercial break, looking up when Jo takes a stool, his 'what'll it be' face in place.

There's a twitchy energy about Maddie today, though she looks contrastingly tired, like she's been up all night. Her dusky, dark eyes have a bit of bagginess to them, and her hoodie is tugged tight over her head, caramel bangs trapped against her sunkissed brow. She can be seen stubbing out a cigarette through the window to the street outside before she enters, and once she's inside, she's lighting up another. A trail of smoke follows her to the bar, and she flops down into a seat near the others, a lazy glance all the greeting she gives. "Tequila redbull, if you have it?" she requests, giving the bartender a little flickering look as she rubs at some itch on her nose with the side of her palm. "Si! Please, no sports."

The evening is just beginning, so it's clearly the start of Kyire's day, as the young DJ wanders in with a yawn, her blonde curls walking the edge of unruly, and a pair of dark sunglasses hiding her eyes, serving no meaningful purposes in the waning hours of daylight. Her step is light as she bounds over to the bar, spotting a few familiar faces that cause her lips to curl in a skewed smile. "Doolittle! Nic!" she calls out to each in greeting as she leans up against the bar, "I see you guys managed not to float away during the storm."

"I don't know if I can handle the change," Luke sighs dramatically at Ethan as he swipes his beer from the bartop, leading it to his mouth for a gulp just as Jo comes to touch him on the shoulder. His attention swings her way, the man brightening. "Your nicknames are getting better. I like that one," he decides, raising his beer to her in mock salute before he finally takes his drink. "How's the garage?" he asks Jo, looking over to the door as it swings open to let both the twitching Maddie and bounding Kyrie in. Maddie gets a squint of some concern, before he flashes a lopsided grin to Kyrie. "Hey LA. How's the radio business?" Then, to Maddie, he mentions, "The Rockies -are- sports. So don't get your hopes up."

Jo will wave to Ethan, smiling brightly, and miracles of miracles, it looks like she's actually wearing lipstick! She looks aside at Maddie, brows lifting. "Good luck with them not watching sports." She looks vaguely amused. "Get your dad set okay?" She'll smile at the blonde, before looking at Ethan. "Bourbon, neat, please. "

Ethan gives Maddie a look, though whether it's for her appearance or her drink order is unclear, since his expression is mostly confused. He relocates an ashtray from down the bar to her vicinity and makes with the drink order, passing it off with a nod to Luke's comments about the Rockies. "It was touch-and-go for a minute there," he notes to Kyrie, "but everything still seems to be standing. Whatcha drinking, radio star? And you got it." The last to Jo, and he turns to look for the bourbon - longer than the actual bartender takes, but he figures it out after a couple seconds.

Once her drink comes, Maddie fiddles with it more than she drinks it. The first sip is met with a crinkle of her nose, and she murmurs, "Should have gone with Vodka; failed experiment." Not like a Redbull and anything is that tasty. Her fingers tap-tap-tap against the glass, restless and full of idle, unspent enrgy. The question about her father seems to stress her out, which she deals with by taking another swig of her drink. She pulls her hoodie off her head then, her bob of hair messier than usual, a little matted, looking unwashed. She's a mess. "I do not know what to do with my father. He is driving me insane. I wish he would just croak already." She's… in a mood, apparently. She sucks on the end of her cigarette, long and savoring, ash building on the tip. She taps it over the tray just in time to prevent it from ashing all over her yoga pants. "What is the Rockies? Football? Baseball?" She glances at Luke, giving him a soft, lopsided smile before she looks back down into her disgusting cocktail.

"We managed to keep the signal going through the storm of the century, so I'm counting that as a win. Steve kept telling these stories about climbing up the transmitter back in the day to fix some thingie. I think he really wanted to give it another go just to prove to us 'kids' that he was still spry enough for it," Kyrie says shaking her head and tossing her glasses off onto the bar, "I'm pretty sure all he would have done is win a Darwin award." She glances back at Ethan and replies, "Um, how about a Coke. And some…" she squints at the signs indicating the limited menu, "… nachos. Yeah, breakfast of kings." She offers Jo a quick wave in greeting and says, "Hi, I'm Kyrie, by the way. Luke here just has trouble remembering names." A quick glance finds Maddie's direction and gives Kyrie a pause, unsure of the woman's state and words.

Luke cants his head, keeping half an eye on Maddie. "It's baseball," he replies to her, before asking in a far more gentle sort of way: "Are you.. okay? Maybe you should switch to like. Club soda or something." He flashes a frown in Ethan's direction, holding the man's attention for half a second and just vaguely shaking his head. A silent gesture, perhaps. "Red bull and anything is just disgusting anyway. Who ever decided mixing downers and uppers was a thing?" He says that to no one in particular, before he smirks over to Kyrie. "Pfft. I remember your name just fine, LA," he winks at her, taking another drink of his beer. He points his thumb in Kyrie's direction and says to Jo: "Kyrie's the voice of Croc, the radio station."

"Ahh, so it was your voice that helped keep me company, alone in a new town, pouring rain, setting up shop." Jo will comment to Kyrie, smiling. "I'm Jolene." She'll look back to Luke. "Speaking of, the shop is going really well. Just need to wait now for my internet installation, and that's not really something I absolutely need to open up." There's a flicker of excitement there, a glance at Maddie, but she bites her tongue and sips at bourbon. She'll glance at the menu. "Did someone say nachos? Oooh, and chili dogs. Perfect for watching baseball, if I can have an order of both, please?" She'll beam at Ethan.

Although Ethan absolutely receives the message from Luke, the only answer is a helpless-looking shrug, as if the matter is out of his hands. Re: tequila and Red Bull, he mumbles something that sounds a lot like, "I coulda told you that," while he sets Jo up with her bourbon. He says nothing at all, not even a mumbled comment, about the whole 'wish he would just croak' bit, just raps his knuckles on the bar in front of Kyrie. "Coke and nachos, sounds almost as healthy as climbing a transmitter in the middle of a storm." The waitress is responsible for getting food from the kitchen, so she sullenly goes about that task ("Sure, two nachos and a chili dog.") while he pours soda into a glass of ice.

The actual bartender comes in about then, eyeballing the crowd for a second with a stern frown, as if to suggest that all these people shouldn't be here at this time of day; this is not kosher at all. He bypasses them all, headed to the back before he starts his shift. Leaving Ethan free to suggest, "Anybody play darts?"

Maddie's smoking like a chimney, and she finishes that cigarette in record speed. She lets it fall into the ashtray, where she leaves it to burn out on its own. Another is drawn from her pack and placed between her lips. She strikes a match and lights it up. Maddie glances back at Kyrie when she looks at her. She's not unfamiliar with uncertain looks, being the daughter of an immigrant and utterly impoverished. She just smiles into it, and introduces herself. "Maddie," she tells the blonde. "You're the radio lady, si? How much do I have to bribe you to get an ad on the air?" Luke's concern makes her uncomfortable, and her shoulders squirm a bit — now there's something she's not familiar with. "I am, ah, fine… And in my eyes, tequila /is/ an upper." There's another smile. She's trying her best to stay light and amusing for everyone, apparently aware of her little over-sharing outburst. "I'm excellent at darts," she proposes to Ethan, confident as ever as she takes a big gulp of her tequila-redbull — her hand is slightly shaky, like someone who's had too much caffeine.

Kyrie positively beams as Jo recognizes her, "Guilty as charged. I'm just glad that I could be a little help. With all the flooding and all those amazing people out trying to save everyone … I felt a little useless. But, I guess we all do what we can right?" She brushes a renegade curl from her face and asks, "What kind of store are you setting up, Jojo?" As Maddie approaches and asks about business, the DJ finds a more confident smile, "Um, to be honest, I don't know. They don't trust me with the money side of things, but if you want a read, I'd be happy to write one up with you. Getting to support local businesses is one of the perks. I'm totally into locally sourced commerce." She gently elbows Luke in the ribs, "You should join the dart game, Doolittle. Show us how steady a Doc's hands are."

Luke scoffs at Ethan's helpless shrug, but he says nothing at all. He just sips at his beer, finishing it off and setting the empty glass aside. There's a longer look at Maddie, before he just shakes his head. "At least drink a glass of water with your crap concoction," he mutters, before he stretches out of his stool, chuckling at the elbow from Kyrie. "It's magic hands, LA. -Magic-," he wiggles his fingers in her direction, before uttering a low laugh. "But I couldn't possibly show off my tricks to a group like this. I'll end up creating mass swooning and Ethan hates when that happens. Isn't that right, Ethan?" He doesn't give the man a chance to answer, fishing out a couple of dollars to pay his tab, before he flashes a grin. "And I've got some things to take care of, besides. So I'm out. But it was nice chatting for a minute."
You have already given luke a cookie this week.

"It's a garage, actually. Grey's Garage, down on Main. Due to be open any day now, so I'm pretty excited." Jo will glance around, checking out the dart boards. There's a glance at Luke, a hint of a smirk. "Did you get into the dart set up at Bagram, or was that just us lowly enlisteds?" She'll smirk. "Come by soon with that binder, and drive safe, Doc."

Ethan's laugh chases Luke out the door, even while he's fishing around to find the darts, and he calls a quick farewell to the guy. Apparently, they keep just about everything behind that bar, because he comes up with two sets of darts a few seconds later. "'Excellent,' says the senorita with the shaky hands." He passes a trio of darts over to her, holding another set in his hands toward Joe and Kyrie. "Any takers? I'm thinking this won't exactly be the hardest fought match."

The bartender emerges, immediately changes the station to the pre-game for the Rockies. The waitress puts down nachos and a chili dog then disappears into the back, her shift over. Business as usual.

Maddie downs the rest of her cocktail in one big gulp, her face brave and impressively unaffected as she chokes it all down. Her fingers twitch a bit, and then tap out a pointless rhythm against the wood of the bar. She pops up onto her sneaker-clad feet, and snaps the stretchy waist of her yoga pants up a little higher, her hoodie discarded for the moment. She folds it over an empty stool, and collects the darts in her hands. She rolls her shoulders, and then says: "We should make it interesting, si? Put some money on it?"

"Sorry, Nic," Kyrie says with a slight laugh, "but I might be the last person you want throwing sharp objects around. Usually if I am throwing things it's part of a patented rock star tantrum and it's all about how much noise I can make. Aim…not so much. But, I'm down for watching. Drinking. Competition. Pointy things. Money changing hands. This has all the makings of a good time. I'll have 9 and 1 keyed in on my phone." She takes a smothered tortilla chip and shoves it into her mouth as she hops up onto the bar to get a better view of Maddie and Ethan's budding competition. Once her mouth is half-cleared, she says to Jo, "A garage? Cool. My gramps has a pick and pull outside of town. Every Sunday, after church, he makes me help him put old wrecks back together. I think he finds it symbolic or something. He's got kind of shitty sense of humor." She smirks gently when thinking about her grandfather and asks, "How'd you get into cars and things?"

Maddie's face gets a little pale, and she looks like she's going to be sick. She sets the darts down on the bar, and gathers her hoodie into her arms. "Sorry… Nevermind. I have to go." Sweat drips at her forehead, and she rubs it off with her gathered coat, her cigarette burning in her lips as she turns around and heads for the door, escaping into the cool evening without another word.

Jo goes into the bathroom. Maddie runs out the door. Ethan looks at the only one left - Kyrie - and brow-lifts. "That was weird."

Kyrie finds a more serious look, "Um, yeah, I'm not one to gossip, but, well, if I had to guess, I'd say she wasn't exactly clean and sober." She hops down from the bar and says, "But, no sense letting your urges go unsatisfied. I'll throw a few darts with you. But, no wager unless you make more interesting than cash."

Ethan recoils as if shocked, gasping with the dart-holding hand laid over his heart. "You think?" he replies, scandalized! For a second, dropping the act, he looks out the door and very clearly contemplates whether or not he ought to go check on her… but talks himself out of it, instead sweeping a hand to the darts that Maddie left on the bar. "Like what? I'll mow your lawn if you win - which, by the way, you won't." His grin is unapologetic.

"Bad news, Nic," Kyrie says with a grin, "I don't have a lawn at the loft, so it has to be way more interesting that that. Let's see," she picks up the darts and presses one to the edge of her lips as she makes a point of thinking, "If I win, how about you give me some pro photography lessons? I've been meaning to get better with my camera for a while now. Once I'm decent, I might even let you model for me." She inclines her head and asks, "Not that it matters, because you are totally not winning, but what kind of prize do you want?"

Although he waffles on accepting that deal, Ethan does eventually come up with a counter-offer. "Fair enough. When I win," when, "you gotta give us a shout on the radio, say something cool, something that brings in young people that drink a lot instead of more old guys that nurse one beer for four hours." He lowers his voice to deliver that criticism, looking beyond Kyrie to a guy at a table that's doing that exact thing right now. "You're seriously about to regret being arrogant, kiddo." He gestures, be-my-guest, toward the dartboard at the back of the room.

"To be honest, I'm not sure a shout out will change your clientele too much," Kyrie says as she looks around the room, "If you want to bring in young guys who are going to spend money on booze, you need to get women to show up. Men will follow. They always do." She lines up her shot and thinks out loud, "Have you thought about hosting something like a ladies night? Or maybe karaoke?" She moves her arm back and forth, milking the preparation for all she can, "I dunno. What kind of creative things could you do here?" And off the dart goes …

… and it lands on the board. Not an awesome shot but the wall is spared. For now.

"Beginner's luck. Let's see you do it again." Ethan marks off whatever it is that Kyrie just hit on the chalkboard next to the dartboard, which exists for exactly that reason. He lingers, waiting for her next two throws to follow, then shouts a quick laugh. "There were a pile of women here a minute ago, then Luke left and now?" Using the chalk, he indicates Kyrie as the last (wo)man standing. "But I could see ladies night. Karaoke, though?" His eyes skim the room, which ain't exactly wired for sound.

Kyrie nods emphatically, "Karoke is the bomb. Don't tell me you've never gotten worked up and belted out…" she pauses in the game to look Ethan over as if she might evaluate his taste in music by his appearance, "Sinatra? Springsteen?" her lips purse together as she tries to figure Ethan out, "Metallica? C'mon, help a girl out here. What's your go to song when you're lathering up in the shower and getting yourself going for the day?" She turns back to the board, a few more mock throws are pantomimed before she pulls back and tosses the dart …

…and it lands on the board with a light thud. No patrons or structures harmed yet.

Ethan watches the second dart hit and narrows his eyes at Kyrie; "Is this a scam you pull regularly?" He marks off her second throw on the chalkboard, looking sullen in an over-the-top way. Which makes it easy for him to answer her, deadpan, "I like gangster rap. Comin' straight outta Compton, a crazy motherfucker named Ice Cube." Mind, he's waaaaaay too white for this, and - if that's his karaoke? Probably explains why he's not so keen on it. "I was thinking about a pool table."

While Jo was in the can, Maddie bailed out, and Ethan and Kyrie relocated to the back by the dartboard.

Jo's on her phone when she comes out, and from the way she's talking into it quietly and her expression, it's the conversation that's kept her away. There's an almost snarled farewell before she hangs up and slides her phone into her pocket. She's heading back for the bar and her bourbon and chili dog. "Who's winning?" She'll call out.

"Uh huh," Kyrie replies to Ethan's purported musical taste, "Tom Jones. You are totally a Tom Jones man." She starts to sing softly to herself, "It's not unusual …" and gives a taste of 'The Carlton' dance to see if it sparks an uncontrolled response from the bar owner. She laughs and spins around, setting up her final shot, "And, yes, you have me totally figured out. I travel around the country, stalking artists and luring them into dart games to force them to unveil the secrets of their talents. I am a monster." She pulls back as if to throw and then pauses, "I'm totally kicking his ass, Jojo." She doesn't mention Ethan hasn't thrown yet. "Do you think I should get a bonus if I make three in a row? I think that's fair."

"Man, I hate being someone's mark." Ethan looks pretend-daggers at Kyrie, slouching against the wall with his arms crossed, chalk in one hand and his three unthrown darts in the other. His nod after Kyrie's summary of the game answers Jo's question, and he tacks on, "Oh, totally. She's absolutely wrecking shop here. I'm disgraced. And nooooo," to the bonus. "There are rules in darts, Little Miss Hustle. You cheat and I'mma have the big guy throw you out." (Probably that's not true.)

"Can we make it a single Jo? Jojo was a guy I worked with, back in Bagram." Jo will flash a bright smile at Kyrie, picking up that chili dog to munch on. She'll glance at the game on the tv, but then the entertainment is /clearly/ over by the dart board, so her attention is too.

"Ooo, rules? That's going to be a problem. I'm terrible with rules. Besides," Kyrie offers the sweetest most obviously fake smile one can imagine, "You'd never throw me out. You need me to brighten up the d?cor around here. Imagine how dull it would be here without me." She nods to Jo and says, "Alright, Jo, just one for now. But, we'll get you a good name soon. Just keep an eye on Ethan here. Anyone that worried about cheating has to have a guilty conscience." She lines up her last shot and makes a big presentation of aiming and taking several practice draws before she finally unleashes her final dart of doom …

… and the dart sails high and wide, deflecting off the wall and sliding across the floor.

Head cocked, Ethan asks Jo, "As in, Afghanistan?" He 'huhs' a second later, surprised, but gives up on it when Kyrie blows the last throw. "What were you saying about the decor?" Leaning over, he scrapes the errant dart up off the floor, pulling the other two from the board in the same series of gestures. "Now if you will just step back, I will put on a clinic." He offers the chalk to Kyrie, batting his lashes to take the sting out of his boasting.

Green eyes flick to Ethan, holding and watching him a long moment. "Yeah, as in Afghanistan. Luke and I figure we probably just missed each other, or maybe had some overlap and just never met. " There is something just a little defiant, a little challenging in her tone and her eyes, as if to say 'what of it?'. Then she snorts, leaning up against the bar. "Oh please, Yoda, teach me." The sarcasm is thick.

Kyrie recovers her nachos and Coke and leans up against a table as she prepares to watch Ethan go to work at the dart board, "Oh, wow, so you all served over there? That's intense." She takes a sip of her drink to gather her thoughts as much as quench her thirst, "I think Jo should go after you, Nic. Seeing as you have home court advantage, I think it's only fair that she should get to jump in for my team. The Cool Kids."

With his question asked already, Ethan nods after Kyrie's inquiry - yep, what he was gonna ask - and follows it up with a laugh at the idea of Jo going next. "Sure, why not." Unlike Kyrie, and despite his boasting, he doesn't make a big to-do about lining up his shot. Instead, it's all one quick, no-fuss, no-frills throw.

And would you look at that? He does good. "Nervous yet?"

"It's where I got sent. I wasn't in combat, or anything. I just fixed all the shit that kept breaking because sand gets into everything over there." Jo says, with a shrug. "If it had an engine, I worked on it, though technically I was helo repair." She'll sip at bourbon after finishing her chili dog. Fingers will wipe against paper napkin before palms rub against her jeans. She'll move to fetch darts, rolling one between her fingers as she moves back to the line to eye the target. "It's been a couple years, but.."

Kyrie makes a show of slowly eating a nacho, tilting her head from side to side as she works her way through her "breakfast" of choice and says, "Yes, yes. I am so very nervous. I can hardly stand it." She takes a languid sip of her Coke to further demonstrate how overwrought with anxiety she is, "Just make sure you don't step over the line on the next one," she points out, gesturing to Ethan's foot, "You only get to do that once." She smiles as Jo's first shot lands home. "Now it's a party," she observes.

Ethan, stepping aside to let Jo have her go, "It's okay to admit that you're out-classed, kid. No one will think less of you." Beat. "Well, I will, a little bit." His thumb and forefinger hold about an inch apart, that little bit, and he puts his hands together when Jo's first shot is a good one (the best one so far?). "All right. It's time to get real." Knuckles cracked, he lines up a second throw.

…and would you look at that. He steps back, beaming like a prick.

Jo will move and lean to snag her bourbon for a long swallow. She'll just eye Ethan a little bit, before she moves back to take another go.

Kyrie whistles as Ethan lands a an impressive shot. Jo's is not bad either, but Ethan has the slight edge in scoring. She thinks. Not really knowing the rules she is sort of guessing. "Methinks the barkeep doth protest too much," she teases, "You know my random drop ins are the highlight of your week." She looks over at Jo and says, "One more. Aim for that tiny red bit in the middle," she offers very helpfully.

"You sure do talk a lotta shit for someone getting spanked." Ethan pauses to let Jo's second dart land. "Twice." His third throw is away…

…"And what a spanking it is, too. Sting a little, does it?"

Jo will arch an eyebrow at Kyrie. "I'm familiar with the concept of the bullseye, Blondie. I'm just terribly out of practice." There's a flash of a smile, before she'll take the space of a breath to try and line up a shot.

Kyrie puts on an impish grin and replies to Ethan, "Maybe. Or maybe I like being spanked? You've never asked." She casually takes another taste of her Coke and a sampling of cheese-covered nutrition as he watches Jo's last shot and winces, "Damn it. Well, you did better than I did, Jo, but old Nic's ego is going to get even bigger after this. We'll have to figure out some way to keep him humble."

Excessively somber, Ethan concludes (re: spanking), "And I never will." When Jo misses the last shot, he steps back and opens his hands as if humbly, looking between the two of them with a smile full of false humility. "Now now, it was just a friendly game of darts between new pals. Why would this go to my head? It's not like I smoked you two." He pops the darts out of the board, palming the bunch of them, and quietly sings to himself: "Whose house? Run's house~"

"Because you're a guy, that's why. Men always like to get puffed up and strut around like a peacock." Jo says, her tone dry as she moves back to her drink and her nachos. Nachos makes everything better though, right? "Let me get a little practice in, and we'll have a rematch."

"Someday, Nic," Kyrie promises, "I'm going to figure out something that rattles you. I don't buy that unflappable exterior." She looks over at Jo and says, "That's the spirit. Go go rah team?" It's more of a question than a cheer. "But, everyone is on notice," Kyrie says with a level of serious that is not legitimate, "when we get the karaoke contest going, I'm going to own this place."

"Yeah? Gonna figure it out, are you? 'Kay. Keep me posted on that." Ethan dimples a smile at Kyrie, offering the darts out on his palm to the two of them with a questioning brow-lift; they wanna play again? "See, that sounds like sexism right there, Miss Jo. Why's it gotta be about guys in general? Why can't it just be me specifically that's an asshole?" All this while he's headed back toward the bar, regardless of whether or not they accepted the darts from him. The Rockies game has started, and there are actual patrons to attend to.

Jo will signal the bartender for a refill of her bourbon, as she's eating nachos. "I'm not much of a team player, these days." She'll say with amusment to the blonde dj. Then she's laughing. "And if there's karaoke, there will be a night I spend at home." She'll look at Ethan, those green eyes focused on him with some intensity. "I'm sure you can be an asshole of the first water, cupcake. But speaking as a woman working in a rather male dominated field, I'm speaking from my experience."

"Don't worry, Nic. You'll always be a special kind of asshole," Kyrie teases, "But, Jo is not wrong. I've met a lot of men who are just…" she wrinkles her nose in disgust and says, "I mean, yeah, everyone is an asshole in some way, but some guys…" She shrugs and downs a final nacho before she stands and stretches, "Anyhow, I'll come up with a nice shout out to liven this place up, Nic. Fair bet's fair." She looks over at Jo and asks, "Hey, do you mind if I stop by the shop sometime? I figure Gramps could use a steady shop to bring wrecks to but he certainly isn't going to ask for himself."

Ethan squints at Jo for a second, asking, "Is darts a male-dominated field? I guess I never really thought about it in terms of gender before…" He frowns contemplatively, then shrugs off the whole line of thought. "Thank ya kindly, ma'am," to Kyrie, in his best rancher-drawl, complete with a tip of his non-existent Stetson. "If you ladies'll excuse me, I'm off to rest on my laurels for a little while. Drink up," before he trots into the back room, where he does god-knows-what for a good bit of the night.

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