More often than not, she worked at night dealing with the people off work looking to relax or get drunk.  Today was no such day.

Lilith had to be up earlier so she could work the day shift, and she was most certainly not a morning person.  She staggered over to her bathroom, showered, dressed, grabbed her coffee, and stood in front of the mirror for an hour putting on makeup in between dozing.  Having finally gotten ready, she grabbed her coat and left the apartment, coffee in hand, locking the door behind her.  Tired as she was, she definitely wouldn't forget to protect her belongings.

As she left the building, she finished her cup of coffee, yawning and starting down the sidewalk.  Passing car after pedestrian, she slowly woke up.  By the time 10:00 rolled around, she was behind the bar, and mostly ready to go.  It looked like it would be a slow day judging by the number of people, or lack of people, in the building presently.  It didn't really surprise her, however, as it was the middle of the week and late enough that everyone would be at work.  A few guys having drinks while pretending to be sick for work, a few job hunters faking working hard at finding a job while they decided to drink instead, a few students from the college skipping classes, or off of classes for the time being, deciding to relax or party while they had some spare time.  Those were her clients for today.  Those were always her clients when she worked during the day.

Since the day was slow, she had a glass in hand, polishing it with her rag while she waited for something to do.  She had the stereotypical bartender time waste methods down to an art at this point.  She took a moment to pour herself a glass of water and took two tylenol, the feelings of an exhaustion headache setting in.  She hated being up early, she hated that people even bothered visiting bars at this time.  She just wanted to work at night, where she would make a decent amount from guys hitting on her and throwing their money away thinking they might be able to buy her affections, tips, and the steady flow of income to line her pockets with.

Outfit

Chris was in a good mood today. He'd woken up early and decided to drive upriver, all the way to Harriman State park. There he'd parked in a glen and spent the morning swimming in one of the lakes. There had been a thick fog over the water until it was dispersed by the rising sun, and the water had been cool and energizing. The Hudson water was just muck in comparison.
After catching his own breakfast, a big perch, Chris had gotten back into his van, changed his clothes and decided to drive back to New York. His good mood persisted as he parked his van on a side street and started walking down the street, looking for a place to spend the day.

He stopped outside a bar, trying to peek in through a window. It was a bit too dark inside compared with the sunny street, so he pushed the door slightly ajar. Just enough so he'd be able to look inside.
The place seemed calm enough. Not too much people, and much darker and cooler than the street outside. Chris entered the bar and closed the door behind him. Most of the clientele were too engrossed in their conversations and beverages to look up when he passed, except for a young female who was giggling at something someone in her group just had said. She glanced at Chris when he navigated around the tables towards the bar desk, and then she did a double take. The grey skinned mutant was used to it, so he just pretended to ignore her blatant staring.

Chris climbed up on one of the bar stools and gave the female bartender a small nod. Seeing as she wasn't occupied at the time he started to rifle through his jeans pocket, digging up a some dollar bills and some spare change. He placed the crinkled money on top of the lacquered bar desk and pushed it slightly towards the bartender while he said solemnly:
"Five bottles of water, please. Flat. And..."
He squinted as he tried to read the signs behind the bar on the wall above the shelves with colorful bottles, but his eyes were too worthless on land for him to be able to read something at that distance. He gave up and turned back towards the blonde bartender, leaning his elbows towards the counter.
"How much for a beer?"

She was staring off into space as he spoke. Snapping out of it, she managed to avoid the basic response to say 'huh?' and managed to pick her brain for an instant. "Five waters, coming up. Running a marathon?" She joked, her bartending social skill taking effect as she looked under the counter for the water. All she'd seen of him was that he was pretty short, just barely taller than she was, and while that made him short by male standards, it wasn't weird enough to draw a second glance. Grabbing 3 of them, she turned and placed them on the counter, finally getting a good look at him. The first thing to hit her was his skin. She stared a little longer than she would have liked to, knowing she was not supposed to make people feel uncomfortable, and then snapped herself out of it and went back down for two more.

"Beer here is $5.23 for the domestic pint, $6.95 for the drafts, and $6.50 for bottled beer." She said, putting the other two on the table. 'At $1.50 each bottle,' she calculated, 'his tab is... $7.50 currently'. She made sure to write it down should he be another stay and drink customer. It was a little weird to her that he had ordered five waters, usually even people trying to drown their intoxication later would only order two bottles, but if he believed water would help to remove the alcohol from his system, it wasn't overly farfetched that he would think 'the more water I drink, the more sober. 5 bottles should do it.' She figured he'd just really have to pee after, if he even finished the five bottles, but it wasn't her place to question it, just to supply it.

"Anything else I can get you? Menu? Specialty drink? A pint?" She offered, given they were a bar, and people usually went into a fast food place for water since water in a cup was free, while a bottle cost them. She tried to avoid staring as much as possible, occupying herself with anything she could think of, and occasionally sneaking looks while she did so. A grey skin colour, she would have said he was a goth, trying to go for the dead skin look, but it didn't look goth, just grey. It didn't make sense to her, if he had no colour, shouldn't that mean his blood wasn't flowing? Wasn't that a thing for deceased people to turn grey? It was baffling to her, but she wouldn't pry and she'd try her damnedest to not make him feel uncomfortable by staring.

Chris frowned when she asked if he were running a marathon, interpreting her joking response as a literal question. He looked down on his clothes - a black, long-sleeved t-shirt and baggy and worn jeans that didn't exactly look comfortable running in.
"No."

When she listed the different options he hesitated. Beer was more expensive than he had thought, and since this was the first time he'd ever ordered it he had no idea what the difference between a pint and a draft was. He decided to just go for the cheapest option, and after making a quick calculation of the money he had in front of him to make sure that he had enough to pay for his order he looked back at the female bartender.
"A... pint, please."

He steepled his long fingers in front of him and glanced over his shoulder. The group he'd passed on the way, with the young dark-haired female, seemed to have hushed down a bit. When he looked, the girl gave her friend a quick jab with the elbow and they both looked away from him. A couple of years ago that kind of attention would have freaked him out, but now he was able to tell that they meant him no harm. They were probably curious. He couldn't really blame them, since he was curious about them in turn.
One of the reasons why he'd gone here instead of to a supermarket was that he wanted to know what it was like - he'd never been at a bar before, and it seemed safer to go there during the day instead of during the busiest hours. It was not exactly like he'd expected; he'd thought it would be dingier and that the clientele would be older, for starters. This felt a bit like a restaurant - except that it was a bit darker inside and that most of the people were drinking something instead of eating.

When the bartender asked if she could get him anything else returned his attention back to her. She wasn't outright staring, which he was grateful for. He shook his head as an answer to the question.
"No, just the beer."
While he waited for her to get it he looked around once again. The bartender seemed polite, and at the moment no-one else was ordering something. If he wanted to learn more about this place, it seemed sensible to ask her. Chris hesitated and then asked:
"Sorry to bother you, but... what is it like working here?"

She motioned to the bottles on the shelves. "What brand? Budweiser? Heineken? Coors?" She began wondering if he'd ever ordered a drink before then, and started trying to consider what he'd like. Knowing nothing about him except his clothes, she realized she had nothing to work with. How did other bartenders do it? Did they offer their personal preferences? She hated beer... she preferred fruity drinks herself, less abrasive alcoholic flavour.

She put the glass she'd been aimlessly polishing back on the shelf of glasses, and turned her attention to surveying the bar. The girls off to the side kept staring at him and turning away when he looked in their direction. She instantly felt bad for even sneaking glances. He probably had tons of people stare at him, and she doubted he'd specifically asked someone to make his skin grey and his face different from others. If she knew anything about being different, and he was anything like her, he probably hated the attention. She vowed to stop trying to sneak glances. She'd try to treat him as if he was just another customer. No different from anyone else.

As he refused any other purchases, she rang up his tab. Deciding to just charge for a domestic, so she could save him a little money for his first beer, or at least... so she assumed, she told him "12.73 is your bill." Putting the receipt on the counter, she started to turn to change the radio station. Just because it was a bar didn't mean she couldn't choose to listen to something other than country. She stopped, however, as he asked her a question.

"Um... well it's not a bad job, really. I get to make drinks and chat with people while I make money, and I learn alot about them while serving them. I also don't work as much or as often as most people have to in a week, and make enough to live comfortably. It's an easy enough job, though my student loans don't let me live as well as I would like for now." She shrugged. She never really talked about herself much. "It's a nice enough job, though if vomiting isn't your thing, you'd hate doing this." She didn't really know what else to say about it. "What about you? What brings you into the bar today?" She inquired, changing the attention from herself and to him instead.

The bartender started to list different brands of beer - but Chris just shrugged, since he had no preference one way or the other.
"Anyone will do fine."

He listened to her explaining her career of choice, nodding thoughtfully. Yes... you probably had to have some good social skills to be a bartender. Not that he was intending to be one, though. He frowned when she said if vomiting isn't your thing, you'd hate doing this. What did that have to do with...? Oh. Gross.
With one webbed hand he pushed the money over the bar desk towards the bartender - exactly 12.73, since the concept of tipping never had been explained to him. The rest he collected back into his pocket while she asked what he was doing there.

"Curiosity. It's my first time visiting a bar," he said in a serious tone. He didn't realize that that was probably pretty obvious to the bartender. "I wanted to see what it was like."
The whispering conversation behind him had now escalated into giggling. He pretended that he wasn't hearing it, but in truth it was beginning to make him a bit nervous. 
"So far I don't really see the point," he admitted in an apologetic voice, and then quickly added: "No offense. It just seems that it would be cheaper and calmer for people to stay at home and drink."

She poured him a Budweiser, as it was one of their top sellers, and rested the glass on the bar. She saw him react to her comment about vomit and tried not to laugh. It was probably just as disgusting as he was imagining it, if not worse, but it didn't bother as much now as her first time. There was a reason she wore coats that closed up above her chest, after all. A bra full of vomit was not comfortable.

She took his bill and placed the money in the register, assuming the tip would come before he left. It didn't really cross her mind that perhaps he didn't frequent establishments, and didn't know about tipping. She could hear the group off to the side giggling and ignored it. Girls who couldn't hold a simple beer without their demeanors changing were common amongst the bar scene. She agreed with him on that at least. Drinking at a bar seemed pointless when you could just drink at home. "Some drinks are a little less... everybody-knows-how. There are drinks with a little more flare, a little more to it than just "soda and alcohol makes my drink". I guess for some it's an adventure. Any drinking I do is at home, though. I guess as a bartender, I get the benefits of knowing the drink concoctions so I never get tired of the same one over and over." She shrugged.

She saw a man in the corner raise a hand to signal her, and excused herself for an instant. Taking the glass from the table, she went back to the bar, making him his 4th beer, trying not to roll her eyes as she did. She knew his kind by now. The "I'll look for a job but secretly come to the bar and waste time and money because I have no interest anymore and my wife can pick up shifts because I just don't care anymore" kind. She didn't understand how they got away with it, because if she were the wife, she'd smell the booze, cigarettes, and all that on him and kick him out the door instantly. Making sure her face was pleasant before she returned to his table, she placed his glass down and quickly noticed the ring. 'Yep. Married'. She thought to herself, as she turned around. He took a quick swig left handed, spilling a little down his shirt, and slapped her from behind. "Thanks doll." Her face immediately darkened a bit. "Please don't touch me. I'd rather not have to have you thrown out." She warned, continuing on her way to the bar. The bar had quietened a bit to see what was going on. The man just seemed amused by her comment and continued sloshing his drink.

"Sorry about that... drunk people tend to get a little... feisty." She said, shrugging as if nothing was wrong.

He accepted the glass of beer with a low "Thank you."

He gave it a suspicious sniff. Of course this wasn't the first time he felt the smell of beer, but usually the smell was one that was part of the background, like grass, sweat or gasoline. He'd never tried drinking it before. Usually he couldn't eat the food the people around him was eating. He wondered if it would be the same with alcohol. Getting sick was not really a tempting outcome of the evening... especially not after her comment about vomiting earlier.

While he contemplated wether he should drink it or not he glanced out over the rest of the bar again, just as the man she'd served gave her a slap. Chris' eyes widened in shock. Of course he knew that alcohol lowered the inhibitions, but it was one thing to know about it and one thing to see it happen. The bartender's icy reaction clearly showed that it had not been a welcome course of action, but the man didn't seem regretful, he just continued leering after her while she returned to the bar. Chris frowned, wondering how much of one's behavior could be blamed on the alcohol, and how much on that one was just being a creep.

Still, the bartender didn't seem overly bothered with it. Perhaps this was some kind of regular occurrence. Chris hoped that wasn't the case, for her sake.
"I see," he just said, unsure of how he should react.

He cast one last look on the beer in front of him. 
Think of it as a learning experience.
He took a gulp.

It tasted... plain horrible. The taste was sharp, and incredibly bitter. It tasted like a mix of wheat and nail polish, but strongest of all was the numbing taste of carbonated water. Chris grimaced wildly as he swallowed the mouthful, which settled uneasily in his stomach. He could still feel the bitter aftertaste in his mouth.
He quickly reached out for a bottle of water, stuck the cap between his sharp teeth and tilted the bottle upward. A crunching sound could be heard and he spat out the cap into his hand, placing it in a nearby bucket filled with caps. After a long swig of water most of the taste was gone.
"That... sure was something," he admitted and gave the bartender an incredulous look. "People enjoy drinking that? Just... what is the point of it? To get feisty?"

She chuckled a little at his face. He definitely wasn't a drinker. She had to marvel at his jaw strength, though. Quite a few people struggled just to open a bottle, and here he was, popping it off like it was nothing. She chuckled again when he showed his clear disdain for the drink. "They do. Everyone seems to have their reason." She knew it was a bad idea to go too far into her own opinions. She didn't have much to say on it that wouldn't offend someone, and if she said it, she risked someone else hearing it and her losing her job. The hardest part of this career would by far be watching everything you say. "Feisty behaviour is not uncommon, but I wouldn't have said everyone becomes feisty."

She filled a glass with water from the tap and took a drink, quenching her thirst. She knew the guy was still watching her, but she wasn't wearing as revealing of clothing as was worn at night since she was out during the day and more people would see her walking to and from the bar. She wanted to ask about his skin, it just seemed interesting, but that definitely crossed the line. Most people would be offended by such an intrusive question. She noticed some students come in and sit at a table, pulling out some folders to study. She wanted to roll her eyes at that, too. Studying while around alcohol made no sense. Everything they learned they'd just drink out of their memory. But, if it meant more tips, she was fine with it. She went and took their orders, and came back to the bar to get them going. Her first specialty drink for the day, meant it would take a minute to get their order together. It wasn't so bad, though. It gave her something to do.

Chris took another swig of water. The four other bottles he intended to save for later - the amount of water you needed when you were an aquatic mutant and your skin had to be kept moist was quite staggering. He contemplated what she'd said - everyone seems to have their reason. His grandfather had been drinking a bit now and then, but he'd never talked about his reasons. But then again, his grandfather had never been big on talking.
"I see," Chris said a bit glumly. He wanted to understand why people did what they did, but even a seemingly easy question as why do people drink might have as many answers as there were drinkers in the world.

As the bartender went to greet a newly arrived group Chris took a hesitant gulp of his beer. He had payed for it, after all, and it wouldn't be much of a learning experience if he gave up after just one swig. To his surprise, the second gulp wasn't as bad. It still tasted overwhelmingly bitter, but it wasn't nearly as rank this time. Curious.
"Hi... excuse us?"
Chris quickly turned around and noticed the dark-haired girl from before standing in front of him together with her friend. The rest of their group - two guys and another girl - were still sitting at the table, but they were watching what went on with clear interest.

"Is that seat taken?" the girl with red, wavy hair said and pointed towards the bar stool next to Chris.
"No," he said with a small frown - the stool hadn't been taken anywhere, it just stood there. With a broad grin the red-haired girl sat down on it, while the dark-haired girl sat down on his left side. Chris glanced warily from side to side; he didn't like having strangers so close by, especially not one on each side. But they didn't seem hostile.
"I'm Alex, and that's Jennie," the dark-haired girl said. "What's your name?"
"Chris."
The girls exchanged amused looks.
"You don't exactly seem like the beer type," Jennie said. "Would you like a mojito, Chris?"
"A what?"
"Hey, bartender! Three mojitos, please."