— there’s beauty in this tragedy.
innxcentariq:
Tariq liked taking the less hectic shifts at the bar, yeah, they paid less, but he still had some paranoia he called simply self-preservation. The less people who saw him, the better. There wasn’t much reason to be so paranoid, since he was almost on the other side of the country from where his life basically ended. But still, you could never be too careful.
That being said, he was cleaning the counter on a particularly slow day when one of the bar’s most frequent customers walked in. He always saw her when he occasionally worked nights on the weekends, and couldn’t help but think she was breathtakingly beautiful.
He smiled up at her when she got closer to the bar, but soon noticed there was something different in the way she held herself. She didn’t look okay. “Yeah, that’s me,” he answered sympathetically, but soon grimaced at the sound of her order. “Look…” he began, leaning against the counter. “I’m just the bartender, I’m not supposed to give my opinion to someone who just walked in, but, honestly, I’m worried. A pint of the strongest drink here is a lot, three? That’s too much. How bout… we start with shots, huh?” Tariq was usually a lot quieter when tending the bar, always getting directly to work, talking only when he felt he needed. Seeing the state she was in, he felt he really needed to intervene here. “You like whiskey?” he asked, while grabbing a few shot cups from under the bar. Of course he remembered what she usually asked for, you don’t forget someone like that. But nonetheless, he was still an advocate for drinking on bad days, and decided it wouldn’t hurt to give her something strong, in small doses, of course.
His oh so worried and caring intervention on her order left her paralyzed, able only to look up at him with what would look like puppy eyes. She wasn’t begging nor insisting, though, but merely fighting back the tears that threatened to brim her eyes again. God, he was so sweet, looking out for people’s well-beings when he could just allow her to get intoxicated! Meanwhile, there she was, a mess on his counter… and perhaps she was way, waaay too emotional, because the shame still seemed mingled with the warmth that rose up in her belly. Well, maybe people were right in saying she was way too easy… and she still owed him an answer, right? Oh, shit.
Brushing a lock of hair off her face, she sat straight and tried to open something of a small, shy smile. “Well… guess my best is to trust you, right? You’re the expert here,” a light chuckle, or an attempt at one. She couldn’t quite fake it, too overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. Part of her liked the attention, wanted him to notice, wanted to have someone who would listen, but a bigger part — the one which still had some rationality and pride left — yelled for her not to bother him nor have a breakdown in the middle of a bar. “Uh, yeah. Whiskey is good, thanks,” she nodded. “By the way…,” a small shrug out of uncertainty followed by a small smile. “Thank you. You know, for holding me back. God, I just…” an exasperated sigh as she rubbed her face. Get your shit together, Natalia. She waved her head. “Just a tough day. Thank you.”