peripateticiennes & @iirishrose;
Roisin wasn’t jealous. No but really, she wasn’t. You could say it was just the shock of seeing her partner being so— open with herself. The pair had been around each other long enough that Rose knew the difference of when the redhead was keeping up with the facade of being a lust-worthy bartender and actually giving a damn about who she was propositioning. Because the latter, had always been aimed at her. Never, in the vicinity of the bar of course — their ‘partnership’ was laced with mystery and secret romps in apartment above said bar. It was their dirty little secret — each other. It was all down to Harriet’s job — to be a good bar-hand, you needed to be sought after, you could go anywhere for a drink but more often than not, the regular kept coming back to this place just to see if any were worthy of being in the redhead’s list of lovers. The answer was no. And that’s what made the chase so worthwhile.
But of course, non of the punters ever knew of the reason of why Harry never seemed to move beyond being a tease. It was because of them. Their love. Harriet and Roisin were partners in more ways than one. At first it made Rose’s heart stutter; keeping their love a secret but after eight long years, the two women had fallen into a rather comfortable routine of secret meetings and practised facades out in public, that in the end, Rose seemed to almost enjoy it. And besides, their daughtermade it easier for Rose to keep the distasteful thoughts of what the bar held, far out of her head, she simply didn’t have enough time to worry about it. Not that she ever did need to, Harry made it so self-evident of what she felt for her just by coming back home night-after-night.
So, seeing the redhead be so open (well, to Rose) with her sexuality made Rose start to question the ‘rules’. Was Harry afraid of what the outcome could be if her customers found out she was in a gay relationship— or did she just adore the luxury of being seen as single? Before the question fully settled itself within her head, the blonde saw a shift in the corner of her eye. Before she knew what was happening, Harry was in front of Rose, being completely — Harry. The blonde gave a small smile, her gaze somewhat distant as they find the bar, as her favourite barmaid silently brought over dry Martini — her usual before fluttering away to further tend the bar. Wordlessly, she picks up the drink and shrugs. A long sip later, Rose finally gives her partner a genuine smile, the ego stroke worked and the florist was back to feeling like number one. She tilts her head and allows her free hand to glide down the side of her dress. “Just passing through — thought I’d come check in on my favourite bartender.”
A tab, a tab. What was a tab, again? Something to do with the bill, she imagined. Geneviève nodded, curls cascading over a shoulder. “Peu Yes, thank you.” At very least, this place was very welcoming even if it wasn’t home. She was not a frequent drinker, nor one that had ever seemed to manage as much as her companions. Her husband ex husband had been a very social drinker, yet that had never caught on to the smaller woman. After a few glasses of wine, she turned into a giggling mess of a woman who lost all professionalism. For now, she was sober and tucked into the leather seating, observing the others around the bar. She looked to the redheaded woman that had come to her aid , and the many that lined the space around her. A glance over a blonde woman was had for mere seconds before she focused elsewhere.
It wasn’t polite to star at a patron, and she was eager to immerse herself in her reading. New material from her field was in constant production, and she could not resist keeping up with the times. A hand reached into her purse, pulling the papers from it and setting them on the table to begin perusing.
Harry grinned, “Well it’s a bloody nice surprise love, always a pleasure t’ see ye round these parts.” She winked. It wasn’t very often that Roisin was able to spend her nights at their bar, after all they had a young child to care for and the pub was definitely no place for her to be raised. “Would’ve a asked if ye needed a drink but i see you already have one.” she chuckled, before she twisted on her toes, hearing Rob shout of her. “Gotta grab that babe, I’ll be right back.” She grasped her hand for a moment before heading off to grab the wine.
She made her way over to the table, waiting a moment till she saw the brunette had finished her page before plonking the drink down on the table with a napkin; she was used to punters spilling beer everywhere; a habit in an attempt to save her tables. “Here ye go pet, Red wine.” She smiled, wine was far too posh for her, she could polish off her liquor better than most of her customers and hold it better too. She didn’t want to be a bother so made her way back over to the bar where Rosie was sat. “where were we love?”
