A week on the job and she's already getting into the swing of things: cheerfully pouring drinks, chatting with the patrons… letting her mouth run away with her. It feels a little fruitless. For the most part, the antisocial drunks merely roll their eyes at her small talk, failing to be inconspicuous whilst looking down her blouse. Elena tries to pay this no mind: she isn't going to be here forever, after all. Still, occasionally her bubbly demeanour takes a nosedive in the presence of unwanted customers. Like this one.
The blonde - only a couple of inches taller than she - glances over Elena, seeming unimpressed yet somehow amused. Her nose wrinkles, her nails (manicured professionally, Elena notices) drum on the surface of the bar.
The younger girl’s expression immediately darkens. “What are you doing here?” An appearance from her sister is not welcome at the best of times, much less during her working hours.
"Thought I’d come and see you." Gun’s tone is extremely level, no trace of indignation.
A raised, mocking eyebrow. “Oh, that’s a fancy word, for you. Good to know you’re learning.”
"I…" Elena’s mouth opens, but a witty response isn't forthcoming. She seeths silently for a moment, furiously stacking away glasses as she had been doing a few minutes before.
"I’ll have a gin and tonic." At her sibling’s glare, she adds, "What? I’m a paying customer," she slides a hand into her suit pocket for some gil, "it’s not like you can refuse to serve me."
Elena purses her lips, before snatching the proffered tender: then goes about preparing the requested drink. She shoves the glass harshly towards Gun.
"Thank you," comes the reply, sickly sweet. Gun takes a seat now, watching as Elena continues cleaning up the bar. "Nice outfit," she comments. Then, more quietly but loud enough to be purposeful, "…a little inappropriate…"
A pause, but Elena is incredulous. “…It’s Wall Market, Gun.”
"All the more reason to show a little decorum," she shrugs. "…That means…"
"I know what it means," snaps back the younger, whilst discreetly re-analysing her ensemble. Maybe the skirt is shorter than most… but…
Satisfied with the result of her put-down, Gun goes quiet, sipping on her drink. Elena chooses to breeze along as if she isn't even there, causing a break in the silence after a short while.
"…Aren’t you going to ask me how it’s going?" Gun inquires, gesturing vaguely towards her suit.
"No. Isn’t that all classified, anyway? Besides, I don’t care."
"Fair enough. Are your studies going well?" The question is offhand, empty-sounding.
"Yes." Elena wipes down the bar in an overzealous fashion, scrubbing tiny circles.
"One-word answers. That’s definitely not like you."
"I’m working. Which… isn’t that what you should be doing, too?”
Some shadow of a smile on Gun’s lips, as though she wishes to give a quick retort, but then that familiar seriousness returns. “…It is.” She finishes the last of her drink and stands up, leaving an obnoxiously generous tip on the bar.
Elena crosses her arms tightly. “I don’t want that.”
"…Please yourself," Gun says, indifferent. "I’m sure someone will want it, though." She leaves the gil where it is, and exits the pub.