4th Winter, 514 A.V.
The Obsidian Club
Some light music slunk it’s way through the bar, a slow pause between two faster dance jigs. People had wandered off the dance floor back to their private rooms or stools at the bar. Ben glanced around the dimly lit club with a pair of half empty glasses in his hand. He was happy with the job, though his ambitions hinted at more. Everyone started somewhere, and this was as good a place as any.
Ben slid behind the bar and poured out the two glasses into the brass trough used for that purpose. Then he set them in the large basin under the bar, it’s sudsy surface gleaming in the orange candlelight. He glanced over at Rynas. The lean man struck a suave figure, all fitted black suit and slick hair. He oozed efficiency and confidence. The man made Bennar feel like a child compared. But he was not discourteous to his employee.
“Witt, a few ladies just set up in the second room.” Rynas said with a sideways glance and a tipping of his chiseled, pointed chin in their direction. The owners of the Club always referred to him by his last name. They said it was less boring than Ben or Benji. He chose not to take offense to that.
Benji nodded and moved around the bar. The band that was currently set up in the corner, a group of self-righteous petchers who had caused friction with both Naia and Rynas before, was plucking a light tune on their mandolins. Naia liked their music enough to give them a few hours during one of the slowest parts of the night, but her patience for their antics was wearing thin. But as they say, a kina is a kina.
As he stepped across the dark floor Ben shot a look at the ever-closed corner door. Deniss, the most aloof of his bosses, was behind there doing what only the gods could know. Benji had to admit he was a bit curious, but it was clear that no question concerning the back of the Club would be answered to him. For now he was content to just do his job the best he could and get by with the paycheck promised by honest work.
With that thought, the server slipped into the private room and was accosted with a flurry of laughter. Four middle aged women were leaning over the table in the center. They seemed to be pretty well off financially, each clad in a different set of silk robes and two sporting amulets of beaten brass. All were laughing, four sets of shoulders shaking in mirth.
Bennar had not experienced a room full of drunkenly blissful people while he himself was sober until coming to work at the Club, and it had been odd at first. Benji was used to it by now though. He paused to let their laughter subside, breathing in deeply and glancing about for empty glasses. There were four with just a hint of color in their depths. A testament to their fortitude. Ben smiled, carefully arranging his face in a passive pleasantness that reinforced their own mood rather than put a damper on it.
To get the best tips you had to mimic the customer’s mood rather than impose your own on them.
“Good evening, ladies. Can I get you some more drinks?” Benji asked, letting the smile on his face reach his eyes.
The Obsidian Club
Some light music slunk it’s way through the bar, a slow pause between two faster dance jigs. People had wandered off the dance floor back to their private rooms or stools at the bar. Ben glanced around the dimly lit club with a pair of half empty glasses in his hand. He was happy with the job, though his ambitions hinted at more. Everyone started somewhere, and this was as good a place as any.
Ben slid behind the bar and poured out the two glasses into the brass trough used for that purpose. Then he set them in the large basin under the bar, it’s sudsy surface gleaming in the orange candlelight. He glanced over at Rynas. The lean man struck a suave figure, all fitted black suit and slick hair. He oozed efficiency and confidence. The man made Bennar feel like a child compared. But he was not discourteous to his employee.
“Witt, a few ladies just set up in the second room.” Rynas said with a sideways glance and a tipping of his chiseled, pointed chin in their direction. The owners of the Club always referred to him by his last name. They said it was less boring than Ben or Benji. He chose not to take offense to that.
Benji nodded and moved around the bar. The band that was currently set up in the corner, a group of self-righteous petchers who had caused friction with both Naia and Rynas before, was plucking a light tune on their mandolins. Naia liked their music enough to give them a few hours during one of the slowest parts of the night, but her patience for their antics was wearing thin. But as they say, a kina is a kina.
As he stepped across the dark floor Ben shot a look at the ever-closed corner door. Deniss, the most aloof of his bosses, was behind there doing what only the gods could know. Benji had to admit he was a bit curious, but it was clear that no question concerning the back of the Club would be answered to him. For now he was content to just do his job the best he could and get by with the paycheck promised by honest work.
With that thought, the server slipped into the private room and was accosted with a flurry of laughter. Four middle aged women were leaning over the table in the center. They seemed to be pretty well off financially, each clad in a different set of silk robes and two sporting amulets of beaten brass. All were laughing, four sets of shoulders shaking in mirth.
Bennar had not experienced a room full of drunkenly blissful people while he himself was sober until coming to work at the Club, and it had been odd at first. Benji was used to it by now though. He paused to let their laughter subside, breathing in deeply and glancing about for empty glasses. There were four with just a hint of color in their depths. A testament to their fortitude. Ben smiled, carefully arranging his face in a passive pleasantness that reinforced their own mood rather than put a damper on it.
To get the best tips you had to mimic the customer’s mood rather than impose your own on them.
“Good evening, ladies. Can I get you some more drinks?” Benji asked, letting the smile on his face reach his eyes.
