As it grew nearer to the spring finals, a sort of agreement had been reached between Locke and his roommates. As long as they did not throw him over the fence again, or try to steal his laptop, he would stay out of their way. Not the most favorable conditions, especially since he would be stuck in the same location the next year in the fall, (provided of course that they had not destroyed the apartment building by then,) but it was still a better arrangement than he would have thought possible. In the end, the ones that Locke was forced to live with were entirely different from him. They say that opposites attract, but there was no companionship between Locke and the frat boys that he was stuck with.

The only reason why he was even in a bar was because he ended up being a designated driver of sorts. Locke didn't even have his learners permit. A fear of cars being the least of the reasons why he wasn't able to drive. If anything it was more like Locke was the designated walker backslash taxi hailer. Had he not come along to chaperone people that were older than him who knew what kind of disasters may befall the new Kurt Corbain who made life in the dorm a complete hell. Locke may still hate the guy for labeling him as "fresh meat" and leading other inhabitants of their noisy building in the torment of him, but he didn't want the guy to pass out in the street. Let him ruin his life through bad grades.

So while his dorm mates were having a party in the bar, Locke was trying to keep out of the way, and making sure to avoid looking like he wanted anything that the crowd was doing. He was still underage for drinking alcohol, which given his job wasn't a bad thing, and his identification would say as much. He had hoped that between his grandpa voice, height, and honesty about his age he wouldn't get kicked to the curb before the party ended. Either that or that the party would end soon. He still had some studying to do that night.

Melissa had never cared to much for frat boys. It meant I.D's might be fakes, they were also loud and usually entirely boring. They also had a tendency to try and hit on her and young as she was she was a bit past the drunken idiot stage of her love life, she hoped. Still she always liked the money party's brought, and frat parties were no exception.

Looking around, from behind the large bar, her two bartenders flew from person to person and food she could even smell the kitchen and her furry cook, who swore worse then half the frat boys here, she thought. Their were other patron's as well, more regular customers who the loud music and louder voices had not chased out. Most were two far gone, for real conversation, but then she spotted someone who looked young, she had no idea if he was just young looking or was underage, but she decided to confront the situation. The boy was not drinking yet, that she could see, but if he tried and somehow succeeded, she knew she could get in trouble. The law did not accept oops as a defense.

"Hello there" she said as she sat down next to Locke. Her Black polo shirt and Black pants likely separated her from the random sorority girl's that were also at the bar. "You want a drink?' she offered, though the offer was a ploy. If he accepted, she would ask to see his I.D. then would go from there. If he said he was underage or his i.d checked out she would know she had nothing to worry about.

In the busy bar Locke was feeling rather cramped in. The loudness of his dorm mates seemed to be escalating with every drink that they ordered, and they didn't seem to want to be outdone by the rest of the crowd. Locke rubbed his temples. He wanted very much for this partying to get over so that he could go back to his room and study. It was all well and good for the others to not put effort into their finals, but Locke wanted to actually do well. Some of his subjects required more preparation than others and he couldn't waste time just sitting around in a bar. Maybe as preparation for his math final Locke could try to figure out the formula for how many shots it would take before his charges were suitably drunk. With enough time maybe he would be able to figure out their individual weights. So far Locke had learned their weight distribution, but not how much they did weigh, not exactly. He could tell who was who by the mass, but he'd never tried to figure out the pounds and ounces. Locke's frown deepened as he stared at the rowdy crowd that he came with.

His stare though was broken as a woman dressed in black approached him. Locke's eyebrows raised and he looked at her much like a deer caught in the headlights. This whole girls coming over to him was still new and novel enough that Locke felt that he should check to see who the lady actually wanted to talk to. He was keeping to himself, at least as much as one could during a Friday night at a bar, so it wasn't as though she had come to talk to someone else. Furthermore she asked if Locke w anted a drink. This confused him even more. While Locke hadn't gone to bars before, he was pretty sure that the offer of drinks went the other way around. Girls were the ones who received the free drinks, bought by guys. Not that it made any difference. Locke had to be the one that stayed sober, and he was too young to drink anything alcoholic anyways. He coughed once to clear his throat, then found that he wasn't able to actually get a word out. What was he suppose to answer her with anyways?

“I'm good,” Locke managed to say at last. If he was going to have anything to drink it was going to be a soda, and he didn't even know what kind they would have here. Probably a coke, since Big Bang Theory had taught the earth manipulator that Cuba Libres were made of rum and Coca Cola. Did he know any other mixed drinks that had something that they would be able to sell him? “Let's just say that I'm babysitting tonight.” With that Locke pointed at the next Kurt Cobain who was trying to pick up his drink with his hand flipped palm side up. Yes, babysitting was a very good term for what he was doing.

"Well that's good hen, you look much to young anyway. " she said happy he had rejected her offer and happier still these frat idiots had a safe ride home. It was much less for her to worry about. She had to agree with the kid's terminology anyway. The guy he pointed to was doing something she agree would qualify as childish. She had to remind herself they were likely in their early twenty, of course of was she.

She was glad the frat boys had a reliable friend and glad for the money they were spending. "My Name's Melissa, and yours?" she said with a polite smile. It was always good when they were busy but she was rarely actually needed to bar tend anymore. SO she mostly did her favorite thing, interacting with the customers.

"I run this bar, Been here about a year now, really glad i had the place built thick" she said as she watched a mutant crack a cue ball in hald of what she hoped was an accident against the wall. Their was little she could do about such thing's but it did not matter much to her.

Locke was use to being called younger than he sounded. For years people thought that it was his father answering the phone once Locke’s voice had stopped squeaking like a sixth grader’s attempts to play the clarinet. Only when people actually met the young adult did they realize that he was not the elderly man that he sounded like. It would be a few years still before people actually got the right idea about Locke’s age. Until then he would continue to baffle people on the phone and have people asking him for identification when he wanted to se R rated films. He wasn’t looking forward to his twenty first birthday if all that awaited him on that day was going to be going to a bar and getting as sloppy drunk as his dorm mates were. In high school Locke’s birthday fell into the category of students who didn’t have their birthdays recognized. College had different vacation lengths, and depending upon what sort of activities or organizations you were a part of, and it was entirely possible that he would be spending that momentous day surrounded by those morons who now were singing “What the fox says”.

“Business must be good this time of the year,” Locke said as he looked down at the table. Talking to females had become easier for him. Still managing to handle large crowds was a challenge. Locke needed noise, especially at night, but this was too loud and too packed for him to be at ease, even if he wasn’t a part of the festivities. The bar was close enough to his college’s apartments that any major academic situation may well drive the campus’s population here. There were plenty of students around and plenty of chances for the bar to make money. Melissa talked about the thickness of the walls to which Locke could only nod his head. He was able to sense the walls presence on the ground, and as such could ‘see’ what sort of impact they had upon the earth. There was a sense of width, but not stability in what his earth sense told him.

“Better for them to be thick,” he managed to say after some serious amount of thinking. He didn’t understand why he was the person that she felt would be best suited to talk to. As a host at the bar it seemed to be logical to make nice with the patron who was being the most free with their money. So far there was nothing that Locke had done to suggest that he would be a good source of income for the bar. In fact he had even said that he was here as a chaperone. Designated drivers, or in his specific case, walkers, were not likely to be buying any alcohol, and a coke did not cost nearly as much as a beer. Probably it was because Locke was the only person in here that didn’t look likely to try and grab at her butt or something.