verdanium:
in a sense there is more freedom in london than in the golden halls of buckingham palace; no one expects or demands anything from those who go about their everyday lives. although they are largely left to fend for themselves, london is nothing but enterprising in times of trouble so why should its inhabitants be any different?
possessing no titles or property, most of the people she knows still have powerful tools at their disposal: their mind, their words, their own two hands. this belief seems to be ingrained into oriana’s mind as well if the way she behaves is anything to go by; you’ve got to find your entertainment where you can.
there’s occasionally unrest brewing underneath the surface but such worries are soothed by bouts of art and music designed to distract and please. what the common folk do is never a source of gossip and it is with that knowledge that bonnie walks confidently behind the bar as though she’s never done anything else.
someone clears their throat behind the two women who are focused on picking out the right glass for a gin. turning to find the source, the illusionist sees the line by the bar has moved on in haste, leaving an empty space in front of the counter. the man raises an eyebrow, asking without words if he can order something.
she excuses herself with a smile, allowing oriana to work her magic. although it’s a fun notion to pretend to be a barmaid for one evening, she’s not well-versed enough to actually risk serving a customer and possibly get oriana into trouble. besides, a man who drinks scotch whiskey? she’d rather spill that down the drain, thank you very much.
bumping the other’s shoulder gently when the man has retreated with a drink in his hand, her eyes sparkle with subdued delight. “speaking of a bit of gin, if i accidentally spill some, will you make me pay? i’m half-inclined to show that man what good liquor is.”
she feigns a shudder before straightening her shoulders, a wink carelessly tossed at oriana. “i’m glad to know your taste in alcohol is more refined. now, where were we? ah!” she snaps a finger gleefully before pointing to the display of glasses behind them. “which one do you use for a gin?”
.
Oriana watched with unshakable amusement as Bonnie worked around the back of the bar. It was wonderful to have a bit of company, she wouldn’t deny that. Even though she was loathe to admit it, evenings could get a little boring without a bit of company that was... well... not like the man staring her down from across the bar, wordlessly asking for a drink.
Her break was over before it could even begin.
A sigh, a rock back to her feet, fingers that snatched up glass and bottle deftly, as they had a hundred times before... Before too long, the man was walking away from the bar, leaving the women alone again. She watched with a strange bit of relief as he disappeared into The Britannia. Bonnie gently bumped into her and a fiery smile returned to Oriana’s face. “I wouldn’t make you pay for an accident. Just make sure some of it spills into my glass.”
Which one do you use for gin? If it were just her, she’d have used any old glass. Anything that held liquid. How long had she worked behind the bar, and she still didn’t see a point for different types of glasses? It seemed more of a nuisance to her than anything. “For them...” She pointed to some rather nice glasses neatly arranged upon shelves. “For me.” Her gaze shifted towards a much simpler looking thing, old, but functional. “Easier to have my own. Then they don’t mistake it.”
