Bartender Chatter ( or “Top Seven Worst Pickup Lines Received in the Glass Half Full” )

The place is dead quiet, like most week nights toward the end of our shift. The only sound to be heard is a quiet ballad streaming from the radio in the corner, and the ticking of the clock behind me. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer a rustic touch where I can get away with it, and the rhythm is soothing. Or at least, it is most of the times. Right now, I’m getting ready to rip the damned thing off the wall.

Tick. The blink of an eye. That’s all it took for the freighter Jace boarded a week ago to make the jump to hyperspace and vanish.

Tock. Coincidentally, that’s all the time it would take for the ship to break up if something were to pierce the hull.

Tick. Even with a hull breach, a ship that size could have made it to the nearest spaceport.

Tock. It could, but the Jabiim system is a warzone now. All it would take is one raider ship...

Tick. But what reason would they have to do that? The ship’s nothing special.

Tock. They might not even be after the cargo. What if they take him hostage and blow the ship to pieces? He'd be gone, and you'd never know.

Tick. No, he’s resourceful. He’s been through worse than this, and always come back.

Tock. He almost didn’t last time, and you sent him back.

I’m so zoned out I don’t hear the clicking tread of two clawed feet on the wood floor.

“Anna-”

“What?” I shout as I spin around, not hearing myself until Cera takes a step back. Even the feathers down the ridge of her back are spiked up. It’s not often I can shock her into silence. She cocks an eyebrow and I sigh, my shoulders sagging. “Sorry, Cera. I guess I’m a little high-strung tonight.”

“That’d be an understatement. What’s gotten into you?”

Something tells me she already knows, but I won’t say. “Must be the slow business tonight.”

“What are you talking about?" she says, gesturing around us. "You don’t have to worry about that; you own this place outright!” Smooth, Anna. “Besides, it’s the middle of the week.”

I shrug and turn back to wipe the counter for the fifth time.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

I can practically hear her grin, so I guess playing dumb won’t get me anywhere. “Yep, can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me, Anna. Right now, you might as well have a sign stuck to your forehead.”

“That easy, hmm? The way you joke about it, I’d think you had something against him.”

She rests her elbows on the counter next to me. “Far from it. He seems like a really nice guy. I just can’t believe you actually hooked up with a customer.”

I nudge her and grin. “Is that really what you’re so put off about?”

“I guess you could say that, but only because everyone who’s ever tried that with me was either a slob, a sleaze, or just plain dumb.”

“Oh, they couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Remember, you’re the owner here, so most guys are too scared to mess with you.” She taps the bar for emphasis, then points to herself. “Me? I’m fair game.”

Hmm. This could be entertaining. “Alright, what's the worst you’ve gotten here?’

“I can think of seven. For starters, there's that fat bastard, Persh."

I shoot her a cock-eyed stare. "He comes in here every week with the rest of those cronies we call our regional representatives! "

"I know, and he makes the list just for that," Cera replies, rolling her eyes. "I swear, Anna, if he tries to feel me up over his drink again, I'm going to spike his drink with something nasty."

I shake my head. Things like this are normal for gals in our profession, but being the norm doesn't make them any less irritating. "If we're talking bad pick-up lines, you missed one."

"Well, Persh's last one was, 'Bring the next round extra strong, and I'll make it worth your while."

"So?"

"He was pointing to his pants, and not subtly."

With a sigh, I pinch the crown of my muzzle and grin. "Is that the worst you've got?"

"Oh, it gets better. Remember the pilot from Dantooine?"

"Which one?”

She cocks her head like I should know better. Frankly, only one pilot's been on my mind nowadays, and I know she knows that much. “The giant white bear.”

“He was a pilot? What kind of ship was big enough to seat him?” I imagine the burly bear would need a small freighter just to handle his personal effects.

"You got me.”

“Well, what did he do to offend you?”

“Oh, the start was just the same as most of them. He sat down, chatted me up a bit, even nudged a few guys away like they might steal me from him... Typical."

"I don't remember this one. Must have been in the back."

"Well, you missed his line, 'A friend of mine thinks you couldn't handle a guy like me. Care to help me prove him wrong?' I should've just clapped him on the shoulder right there..."

"Glad you remember we're all about repeat customers."

“Repeat customers? I just didn’t want blood on the bar.”

I can't help but chuckle. “Of course. That’s two down. Who next?”

Cera’s eyes narrow. “The fox.”

Her grin is contagious, even as I mimic the fox's dialect. We'd never even heard his name. “How could anyone forget him? 'It's been nothing short of enchanting conversing with you, m' dear, but I'm afraid I must be off. I do hope to see your lovely face again...very soon'."

“Oh yes... He was charming to the point of flattery, and not too hard on the eyes, either...” Cera runs her hand over the bar, and one of her claws dips into a tiny hole. "It's a shame he wasn't going to pay for those drinks, or we might have gotten along famously."

I shake my head, laughing harder as I gesture to the hole Cera reminded me of. "I'll never forget the look on his face when you snagged him by his jacket sleeve."

She flashes a predatory smile I'm still getting used to and chuckles with me, remembering as she leans over the bar. "You wouldn't be thinking of leaving without pay, would you?"

My laughing re-doubles as I recall the fox's stammering. "His eyes were as wide as dinner plates!"

Cera nods. "Yes, they were. Shame he ran off so fast. He might have given us a night's worth of entertainment." She stops her reminiscing to glance at me. "Or at least one of us... Hmm, yes, I think he would have gone for it." She leans on the bar, resting her chin on her feathered arms as she stares at the imaginary patron. "Everyone pays for their drinks here; everyone.” Her voice drops into a sexy simmer. “If you haven't got the coin, then we'll have to arrange for...alternative means of payment."

Only by leaning against the bar do I keep from collapsing to the floor in a fit of laughter as all manner of lewd images spring to my mind. I cannot picture the fox as anything but terrified in all of them. Clutching my stomach, I hold up three fingers. "That's three."

Without a moment’s pause, “Max.”

“Aww, you’re putting Max on the list?” I say with my best pouty face. “He didn’t mean anything by it!”

Cera rolls her eyes, and I stifle a laugh. Max is a golden retriever who first came here a few months back and now makes regular stops. As sweet as he is, his way of showing it is a bit more…direct than Cera might have expected.

“Didn’t mean anything by it? He sat down at the bar and stared at me for the better part of an hour before he said anything!”

“And what were the first words he said to you?” I retort with more of a smile than a smirk.

Cera crosses her arms and looks away.

“As I recall, The first thing he said to you was, ‘You have very beautiful feathers, you know.’ Now what is so wrong with that? He was so cute!”

Exasperated, Cera jabs a finger at me. “Oh sure, cute. Well, maybe to someone with a case of puppy love, but to me, that's just creepy."

Certain my cheeks are flushing, I try to re-direct her. "I still say he doesn't belong on the list."

"Do you want to hear the rest of these, or not?"

I clap my muzzle shut and make a 'get on with it' gesture.

Cera reaches her taloned hand as far up as it will go, several inches over my head. "Then, you had that mountain of a dog that came in here, flirting with everyone with a set of tits. He sits down at the bar and smiles at me over his glass of scotch. And what does he say? 'I'll only be in town for a day or two, but you look like a girl who knows her way around? What do you say to a midnight tour once you're off?" I frown and make to interrupt, but Cera holds up a talon and leans on the bar. Then she continues, in her best rumbling drawl, " 'I hear the slopes around here are breathtaking'."

I almost shiver imagining a certain wolf-dog grinning over those words and a bottle of whiskey, but shake my head to clear it. "Don't forget his buddy, the elk.”

"Ser'tok T'keit," Cera corrects me, a little too quickly.

I give her a sidelong glance. "...yeah. Why isn't he on the list yet? That's one line I do remember." I'm expecting Cera to fill in for me, but instead she's wringing her hands and looking everywhere but at me. I swear I can almost feel my muzzle dislocate as it falls open in shock. "No... You mean that actually worked?"

Now would be the perfect time for a snappy comeback, but she's trying to mat down her suddenly spiked-up crest of feathers.

"Oh my god, you actually slept with him, didn't you!"

Cera finally regains her tongue and spreads her arms wide. "What was I supposed to do? You saw him! Don't tell me you wouldn't have given that glass of tall, thick and sexy a try."

"Judging...by how tired...you were the next day, I'd say...you gave him several tries," I manage between fits of laughter.

Cera lets me laugh for a minute or two, and when I finally recover, I'm surprised to see a smirk on her face. "You're forgetting, I've only listed six so far."

I do a quick mental tally and nod. "So who's seven?"

With another predatory grin, Cera slides over the bar in a way I'm sure I've seen before and settles into a stool. Then, crossing her arms on the polished wood, she looks at me and says, "What's the house special tonight, darling?"

She just barely dodges a swing that would have given her a black eye, and scampers across the room. With a snarl and a grin, I vault over the bar after her.


It takes us almost two hours to set everything back the way it was, including a broken chair, but our first customer of the day is right on time. The golden retriever ambles in, smiling as always, and I imagine this must be the highlight of his week. Still, better a happy customer than a grouch.

“The usual, Max?” I call out.

That perpetually cheerful face beams. “Same as always, yep.” I turn away to start his drink. “Oh, wait! What’s the house special tonight?”

My ears perk up with my brow as I look back at him. “What are you talking about? We don’t have any house specials.”

He points over my head and I turn to see a scribbled sign that reads, “Ask about tonight's house special!”

A quick glance over my shoulder, and I spot Cera trying her best to keep a straight face. Despite my scowl, I hope the flush on my cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. I manage to smile through gritted teeth and reply, “Hold on, Max. Let me have a word with my friend in the back.” I swear, I'm going cook that bird one of these days.

----

Okay, this one is entirely  Wielder's fault. When I introduced Anna's bartender friend, Cera in Welcome Home, she joked that there should be a comic about bad pickup lines involving Cera. Well, I'm no artist, but the idea stuck, so I wrote this one up as a late-Christmas, early-New Years story for her, and you all. Enjoy!
Jace and story are © me
Dai Trez and Ser'tok T'keit are © wielder
Star Wars is © ...Disney. Wow, that's weird to write.