The city of New York had many problems. Even with the recent absence of their resident bonemancer destruction and violence were practically a way of life… or not as the case may be. This then led to higher costs; for such things always come at price which, more often than not, is ultimately born by the individual. Individuals who either needed to make sacrifices or become destitute, the latter occurring with depressing frequency which in turn led to the various ghetto districts spreading like webs from over eager spiders that stretched the already strained NYPD to its limits.

Yes, there were numerous problems; a lack of libations however was not one of them.

Whether it be by land by sea or by air, over nine million litres of alcohol entered the city every day and was delivered to over fifty thousand different establishments to serve a population of more than eight million. This was not a city which simply shared the belief that alcohol was both cause and solution to its problems, this was the city that had actually created the creed.

Never let it be said that nothing ever came of such indulgences however, even the common and coarsest collection of crap could conceal an unknown gem; a diamond in the rough.

As a small bell chimed above his head and his eyes roamed the bar, Zephyr couldn’t help but reflect that, while ‘Dudley’s’ certainly seemed to fit the latter, little more than idle curiosity and a faint lead suggested it contained anything valuable enough for the former.

The place was far from expansive, yet it managed the cramped confines with the same blunt pragmatism that was all but innate to establishments of its nature; tables cut just short enough to be inconvenient, the bar a few inches thinner than it might be and the odd mirror along the wall to give the illusion of space.

The place was serviceable but no more than that. It was by no means the worst location he’d visited (that particular honour went to a literal hole in the wall at the bottom of Moscow’s sewer system) and so the elemental felt no hesitation in seating himself towards the back of the bar near the kitchen.

Granted it wasn’t the best seat in the house, but it did put his back to a wall and let him keep an eye one everyone else, such as the lovely lissome blonde that was currently strutting towards him.

Perhaps the night wouldn’t be a complete loss after all.

Plenty of lavish bars were sprinkled throughout the city of New York. Dudley's was not one of them. It was the kind of place businessmen would bring their mistresses to avoid being caught, or where a girl could work to avoid being accused of a mutant.

The latter was true for Charlotte. When she first came to the city, she had no income, no apartment, nothing. It was by some act of God that she found Dudley's, whose windows were plastered with "Now Hiring!" signs. The alcohol was great, and the watermancer got to work with other attractive women. What more could one want?

Two years later, and the blonde was still employed there. It wasn't a high paying job, not by any means, but it paid the bills. And fueled her shoe obsession. There was nothing Charlotte loved more than a new pair of Louboutins. Except for an attractive man. Like the one who wondered into her bar and nonchalantly took a seat in the back, his gaze shifting from person to person.

Even from across the room, he had a mysterious air about him, and it piqued her interest. So much so that she bypassed her other tables and headed straight for his, weaving her way through the tables and chairs that separated her from mystery man.

"Alexis, take care of table twelve." she called over her shoulder to the brunette with the pixie cut behind the bar. She was new, and the mutant was supposed to take her on as her understudy. But she had bigger fish to fry, and the girl would never learn if she was coddled. 

The waitress ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing any fly-aways and giving it some volume. Looks were everything in this industry, and Charlotte especially prided herself on hers. Sure, she was shallow and superficial, but that's what New York City was all about... Right?

Stopping a few feet shy of the booth, Charlotte flashed a smile and retrieved her notepad, placing the small black book on the table, her hands lightly gripping the ends of the table. "Hey there handsome." the blonde cooed, shifting her weight forward so she stood slightly bent over the booth, giving the man a perfect vantage point to see her chest. A little cleavage now and then never hurt anyone.

"What can I get you?"

For all of Dudley’s apparent failing’s customer service was not one of them. Indeed the hessian found he couldn’t quite help but feel… appreciative, of the rather prompt care paid to him by the young peri as she strutted towards down the aisle, her hips giving just enough sway to call attention to the nicely toned legs within the intriguingly short shorts that were only partially concealed by her apron.

It wasn’t just her hips that were moving though, the blondes shoulders were deliberately thrust back, taking full advantage of the too tight shirt which clung to her like a second skin; emphasizing her natural curves and putting more than a little ‘spring’ in each step.

She was good.

Still, even with that quiet show she wasn’t quite finished, for as she finally made it to the hessians side the blonde took out her notepad, using the movement to bring her arms to her side, hugging her breasts to improve the already pleasing neckline of her undersized shirt before leaning in to give an even better view just as she began to speak, a faint but unmistakable French lilt coating her words like honey.

”Hey there handsome… What can I get you?."

She was very good.

Granting the girl a small urbane smile Zephyr slowly lifted his cobalt gaze to meet the blondes curious grey eyes. He didn’t rush, what was the need? The gamine clearly took a certain amount of pride in her looks; and beautiful things deserved to be appreciated did they not?

When he at last met her gaze though his smile grew just slightly, and he couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at the svelte sylph as he answered, his British brogue deliberately low, partially out of a desire to keep the conversation private and partially to edge her closer still.

“Aside from your own charming presence?” He hmm’d quietly for a moment though his azure eyes stayed fixed on hers. “While I’d rather not see you go I’m generally prefer something…” His gaze swept down briefly before flickering up towards her hair. “full bodied, yet light.”

“What would you recommend?”

In the food industry, it's not unusual to have a customer with an annoying habit. It's up to the waiters and waitresses to accompany said habits and provide the best experience they can for their customers. Some people talk with their mouth full, others like to shout across the bar, and the rest like to leave a penny for a tip.

Mystery man, however, fell into his own category. He was a quiet talker, and a smooth one at that. With all the noise the rest of the bar produced, his sentence was practically inaudible. Charlotte shifted more of her weight forward, her head hanging low in an attempt to catch some word or phrase that this man was saying. 

"Full-bodied and light?" the blonde echoed, her lips pursing as she ran through a mental list of the alcohol the bar carried. Did he want beer or wine? Red or white? Cheap or expensive? "Well," she began, seating herself on the opposite side of the booth, her legs brushing his lightly. He thought she was charming, and she'd show him just how charming she could be. And besides, she thought better sitting down.

"If you want a beer, we just got an order of Good Juju. It's gingery and has an herby aftertaste, if that's what you're into." Charlotte shot a glance sideways, looking for any of her coworkers, none of which she could see. Her gaze found its way back to the man, and she lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "Personally, I think it tastes like dirt."

Flashing a smile and offering a wink, the watermancer began drumming her fingers on the table, her manicured nails creating a quiet yet melodic sound. What else would he like? A good ten or fifteen seconds had passed before the blonde spoke again, her accent stronger than normal. "We have a Chateau de Bonhoste. It's a Bordeaux Blanc. Fruity, but the finish is a little acidic."

Charlotte hoped he would pick one of the options she offered, because otherwise she had nothing left to suggest. She was more of a liquor person herself, and her knowledge of alcohol outside of that was limited.

Opening the notepad, the waitress grabbed her pen and twirled it between her fingers, signaling that she was ready to take his order should he have a decision made. 

Human behaviour is, more often than not, predictable. So much of an individual’s early life is spent learning how to react; to speak or hold ones tongue? To fight or make flight? It is all a vast education in cause and effect based around society's valued traits. And though these traits may vary from country to country, the virtue of civility; the desire to remain polite and not offend, is something of a constant; especially in a business relationship such as this.
Thus the elemental knew precisely what his quiet words would achieve and kept his gaze locked on the girls own pale grey eyes, even as the pleasant view of neckline became an inviting valley as she leaned down further still catch his question. There was a difference after all, between appreciation and lechery.

That isn’t to say that peripheral vision is without its advantages however.

In any case there was, unfortunately, a downside to the hessians less than subtle ploy; namely that the lissome lolita hadn’t heard him fully and as such was taking his query seriously. A pity certainly, but far from irredeemable still, he hadn’t quite expected the blonde to invite herself to his table and stretch her legs against his own.

Not that he was complaining. In fact, if the girl was who he thought, then she was proving far more promising than he’d hoped; few waitresses would have confidence to be so blunt about the menu while in earshot of the owner. It was refreshing and the hessian granted the girl a slight smirk to show his appreciation for her honesty, even as part of him acknowledged he’d be rather less so if he’d been on the receiving end.

“That good is it? Are you sure you aren’t being too generous?”

The joy of hypocrisy.

Sadly though, it seemed ‘Dudleys’ selections were rather limited for the svelte sylph was only able to offer one further option before she fell silent and waited for his order. A tad disappointing

“Hmm, decisions decisions.” He leant back in his seat and again offered the blonde his best urbane grin, his British brogue not faltering in the slightest even as he continued in a perfectly innocent tone, “Are you sure you can’t offer me a menage a trois?”

It is a skill, to read a person and his or her body language. A highly coveted trait taught to members of law enforcement, they sit and stare at suspects, waiting for a facial tick or darting eyes to convey the truth. While she lacked the years of training, Charlotte prided herself on noticing subtle movements and twitches that others missed, even if some of them were fairly obvious. 

But there was something different about this man: there were no ticks, twitches, or darting eyes. Not once had his eyes wandered- not to her chest, or the pen twirling in her fingers, nowhere. All he did was smile. A smile that infuriated the blonde, simply because it hinted at nothing. 

The waitress shifted in her seat, her leg brushing against his again as he queried about more of their wines. "I haven't had a ménage a trois since Christmas." Charlotte muttered with half a smirk.

She had bought a bottle last year during the holidays to drown her sorrows; she still hadn't quite adjusted to being away from her family, and there was too much snow to travel. It wasn't the best bottle of wine she had tasted, but it did the job of getting her intoxicated. 

"I think we have a few bottles in the back, if that's what you want?" the waitress asked, tilting her head slightly to the right as she noticed his face for the first time since she scooted into the booth. A square jaw, nice skin, and eyes that reminded her of her grandmother's fine china. Surprisingly, he was attractive. And when there was a handsome man, she had to make his acquaintance. It was her life motto. 

"I'm Charlotte, by the way." 

“I haven't had a ménage a trois since Christmas”

’Well, I’m sure we can do something about that.’

A slight smirked tugged at the corner of the elementals lips even as the thought went unsaid. There was no need to be overly overt after all, not when the playful glimmer in the blonde’s eyes suggested her thoughts mirrored his own.

"I think we have a few bottles in the back, if that's what you want?"

Even as the words left her lips there was a subtle pause to the lilting French tones that the hessian almost missed, and would have if the girl hadn’t made it a point to tilt her head and give him a rather brazen once over as her gaze swept up and down.

Bemused at the sudden role reversal Zephyr remained silent, merely quirking an eyebrow as the gamine finished her evaluation. Barely a heartbeat later the ingénue seemed to have made up her mind for she introduced herself with a grin that was no less playful than before.

“A pleasure Charlotte, you can call me Oliver.”

He allowed the conversation to then stall for a moment as he adopted a thoughtful expression before eventually shaking his head and offering the soubrette a small smile. “I’m sorry, you seem familiar and I was just trying to place you, have you been to Sanctuary recently by any chance?”