24th of Saun, Arc 720
Upon observing just how cacophonous the tavern was, Cierne began to wonder if today was some sort of holiday and she just wasn’t aware of it.
Large groups continuously flowed in through the front doors, claiming tables far too small for the size of their parties. She had been asked by the tavern owner to grab several extra chairs from the back room in order to accommodate the growing population. But as soon as she had placed new chairs onto the floor, they were being claimed left and right. It was an uphill battle, and one that left her no other choice but to admit defeat. All too quickly when a patron asked for a place to sit, Cierne had to tell them to either wait or come back later.
Thankfully, her menial labor lasted for only so long before her employer concluded that it was a waste of time (just like she had found halfway through her chore), and that she was better suited elsewhere, namely behind the bar where she rightly belonged.
She wasn’t the best bartender, but she was a quick learner and had been experimenting with new things that many patrons had taken a liking to. This gave her an advantage; her employer hadn’t missed her contribution and work ethic. So instead of bustling chairs, she had been quickly reassigned to bustling drinks. And oh, what a relief that was!
Once she was stationed behind the bar, she was given less than a split second to gather her bearings before the requests flooded in.
“Vodka tonic!” Someone called from an ambiguous stool at the bar.
“Ginger mule!” Came another voice from off in the distance.
“A margarita sounds like a good idea for me,” said yet another from just to her right.
There were too many voices and Cierne had only two hands. Unless… no, this was no time to daydream about a fictional universe where she could grow arms out of her sides and save the day with her multi-tasking dexterity. She had legitimate work to do and that work required her to concentrate.
She wiped her brow of the perspiration that had started to form; a trickle of sweat she had missed rolled from her brow into her eyes and stung. She cursed, batting her eyes so the pain would subside, but she was entirely blinded for a good few moments. Now she was getting hurt on the job!
She took a deep breath and tried to calm her rampant heart rate. There were many people counting on her. The tavern owner, the other bartenders, the waitresses and waiters, and herself included. She needed to focus. And if pushing through stress and burning eyeballs was a part of the job, then so be it.
Shaking her head to clear away any inessential thoughts, she went to work. Reaching into her mind, she recalled someone had asked for a vodka tonic. Sure, there were many other drinks that had been requested, but since she couldn’t make them all at the same time, she decided to start with one.
So vodka tonic, it was. And it was a simple enough drink to make. She had watched one of her fellow coworkers make it in record timing before. While she could not compare to their diligence, she was apt to make the drink as quickly as she could without messing up. This would be a great way to improve her skill as a bartender, after all.
She first grabbed a fancy looking glass from the drying rack behind her. It was stained a deep purple, which gave whatever liquid it held inside an interesting hue; it was also shaped narrowly at the bottom but grew wider towards the top which made it look awesome if you were the one drinking from it. She then reached for the conveniently placed tonic water. Apparently, drinks composed of this ingredient were in high demand tonight, she thought, marveling at just how easy it had been to find.
However, with the glass in hand and the tonic water ready for her disposal, she froze. She was missing a key bit of information. How much of the tonic water did she need to add to this particular kind of cocktail?
“Psst,” she shout-whispered to a neighboring bartender.
Her name was Delilah and she had the most gorgeous auburn hair in the world. It was styled in a pixie cut and framed her face wonderfully, giving her a sweet look that had many of her male patrons fawning over her (which was exceptionally great for getting tips). Although right now her sweet expression was downcast into a look of utter determination, if not frustration.
“What?” She hissed in reply, desperation leaking into her words. There was no doubt she was also stressed as she handled two glasses filled with very different liquids, and a tiny umbrella positioned between the first two fingers of her left hand.
“How much tonic water?” Cierne asked without hesitation. While she cared that she was being a nuisance, it was more important to finish making her drink than of what others thought about her.
“What?” Delilah asked, genuinely not hearing what Cierne had said.
“Vodka tonic,” Cierne explained giving her an intense stare.
Delilah looked up from her work and gave Cierne a look that said ‘are you stupid?’, but Cierne knew she didn’t mean it. Delilah wasn’t a mean person, she was just extremely overwhelmed.
“Four to six ounces, depending,” she replied sharply, realizing what it was Cierne was asking.
With a curt nod, Cierne turned back to her work and added the appropriate amount to her glass, aiming for five ounces just to be on the safe side. She really needed to practice more if she wanted to stop asking for help during happy hours.
With two jiggers full of vodka, she tossed the liquid in. Swiftly turning to grab the remaining ingredient (lime juice), she nearly slammed into Delilah who just so happened to be reaching for the same thing.
“Watch it!” She cried, her eyes wide with disbelief at the near-miss accident.
“I’m sorry,” Cierne responded with a grumble. She bit her lip, clearly embarrassed. She hated not being confident and right now she was certainly lacking in that area. She wanted to be able to make drinks like she had supernatural powers. She wanted the prowess of a master mixologist, without having to rely on others’ insight to get the job done. And here she was nearly causing an incident that could have hurt not only herself but a coworker, and during an incredibly busy night no less.
Delilah sighed and placed a tiny hand on Cierne’s shoulder. She could barely feel it rest against her shirt. “It’s pretty hectic tonight isn’t it?” Delilah said softly by way of apology. Her eyes looked somber like she truly was sorry for being snippy with her before.
Cierne nodded her head in agreement, but kept her lip bit between her teeth.
“You take it first,” Delilah suggested, pointing to the lime juice on the shelf.
Nodding again, Cierne grabbed the bottle and deftly poured a little into the glass. Just to taste, she thought before handing it to Delilah.
Cierne could give a rat’s ass about adding a garnish as she finished the drink with a couple of melty ice cubes. No time for presentation when a hoard of alcoholics would just gobble the stuff down anyway.
“Vodka tonic!” She called into the crowd of needy patrons.
As quickly as she had slid the drink across the bar counter, a hand swiped it. If she didn’t know any better, it was like it had vanished into thin air. Only the air was hot and humid and thick and... besides the point (focus Cierne). She didn’t know if it was the person who had requested the cocktail that had taken it, but it was far too busy for her to find out. Besides, she had other drinks to make.
“Ginger mule!” A voice suddenly shouted. A flashback of the same thing being requested moments before reminded her that that was the next thing she needed to make.
Delilah must have heard the request because she gingerly leant towards Cierne and whispered. “Basically the same thing but with ginger beer.”
Cierne gave her a tight smile. While she knew Delilah was just being helpful, her hardheadedness made it difficult to accept her advice. Given more time, she could have figured that out for herself!
Cierne quickly pulled another glass down from the rack, nearly dropping it in the process.
She let out a soft curse before reaching for the bottle of vodka and jiggers she had used for the last drink. She repeated her process, including adding the lime juice to which Delilah was thankfully not needing at the moment (potential crisis averted). But before she got to the step of adding the last ingredient, instead of tonic water, she measured out five ounces (since five ounces was between the four to six that Delilah had advised) and tossed it into the drink.
A couple of melty ice cubes later and Cierne was yet again pushing the drink across the bar counter to another frenzied hand. In one swift swipe, it had disappeared just like the last.
Feeling successful in having completed yet another drink request, her jubilation was short lived as more and more orders were being shouted at her from all different directions.
Cierne gave a quick look to Delilah who just so happened to be looking right back. They shared an eye roll and Cierne wrinkled her nose before they went back to their separate tasks.
The night was just beginning!
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