Cherry Beer


adam_icon.gif ygraine_icon.gif

Scene Title Cherry Beer
Synopsis Sport, imported fruit beer, MBAs, and careers. Two people involved in covert Evolved activities have a wholly-mundane but potentially significant conversation.
Date July 7, 2010

Biddy Flannigan's Irish Pub

Ambient lighting blankets the establishment in a soft luminescence, glowing in tones of appealing orange from the front face of the bar and low hanging light fixtures overhead. Old style brick walls given the pub an appealing depth, reflecting the tone of lights in a more amber hue down upon the lengths of the polished, wooden floors. The bar counter of lacquered dark wood stretches along the northern wall, the forefront for shelves of numerous liquors and the substantially sized LCD televisions spaced liberally behind it. The screens flicker with the latest games and news as the labeled spirit bottles wink from lighted shelves with a beckon of their own. Barstools and high tables welcome tipsy patrons to their support, scattered with throughout the barroom with a few wedge into the darker, quieter, and more secretive recesses. Over the bar are a few banners of sports teams, most notably one of English football club Manchester United.

The thick wooden door to the west is fitted with a single neon sign sponsored by one of the brews on tap, glowing in the door's center window to shed its light onto the sidewalk outside and summoning in new customers when the bar is open for business.

It's midday when Ygraine enters Biddy Flannigan's. It's terribly crowded, only a spot or two at the bar. Currently, Spain and Germany are going back and forth tentatively in a nil nil game. At the bar, with an empty seat next to him, is a blond man who appears to be drinking a swedish beer, it has cherries on the label.

Pursing her lips, Ygraine comes to a halt a short distance inside the doors - both enjoying a spot beneath an air vent and surveying the bar for a hint of space. Standing there, she shrugs out of the heavy leather jacket she sports - the Union flag painted across the back for the Kingdom rather than the States.

Smiling somewhat ruefully to herself, she wends her way through the throng, jacket now slung over one shoulder, to arrive at the bar beside the blond. His beer earns a glance, before the brunette cracks a smile at him. "Pardon me - but is this seat taken?", she asks, her accent unmistakably British and educated.

Adam glances over a moment with an arched brow as he takes a drink of his beer. He pauses thoughtfully and shakes his head in response, "No." he says, though it's hard to get an accent out of a monosyllabic word, "Go ahead." as more of his own british accent starts to come out.

Gratefully ducking her head, the woman hops up to perch on the seat, draping her jacket across her lap before leaning forward to rest her forearms on the bar, toned muscles shifting beneath the pale skin of her biceps and shoulders. "Another football exile?", she asks with a wry smile. "I've had real trouble tracking down somewhere showing the games live."

Adam chuckles a bit in response. "Something like that." he says as he takes another drink of his beer and says, "You should have been here all along, shown the whole tournament here. Even England side's poor performance." he pauses a moment as he sets his beer aside, "You know, as much as I've seen people argue with Americans, we did used to call it soccer."

"Short for association football, and in contrast to rugger - yes", the woman says with a wry smile. "But to the vast majority of the world, it's football. Le foot in French, or fusbal in other languages, or…." She chuckles and shrugs. "Still, nice to find another exile. Though I've not tried Swedish cherry beer, I admit. I rather like the Belgian stuff, myself."

Adam shrugs a shoulder, "It tastes like cherries." he notes as if that should explain it all. "The bar shows the premier league during season. What they can at least. Of course, given some game time translations, that means opening up at six with no one here. But.." he shrugs, "The owner's dedicated, I guess. So, where's the accent from.." he looks thoughtful, "Londonish, but not hurried enough and not a hint of cockney." he pauses, "Reading?"

Ygraine lifts one brow, then laughs merrily. "Not particularly close, I'm afraid. I grew up in Edinburgh, studied in Manchester and Canterbury, and have travelled a good deal. Still, there are certainly worse places to be taken for than Reading."

Adam mms and raises his beer, "Ah well, it was worth a try, I suppose." his own accent is weak, affected by centuries of travel and other accents and languages. He's been too many things and people to be pin pointed. "So, if you haven't found the games in a bar, where have you been watching?"

"Grabbing highlights when I can", Ygraine says ruefully, leaning forward a little further in the hope of catching the eye of the busy bar-tender. "I've had someone back in the UK save Match of the Day for me, from the BBC's iplayer service, and Dropbox it to me. But that's quite a lot of hassle, so I've only done it for a few games. And it's not as if the England performances turned out to be worth the effort…"

Adam snorts to himself at that and reaches forward, banging the other side of the bar which immediately brings the bartender. It might seem like an obnoxious move and it would be, if Adam was a customer, but as the owner, it's just something the bartender has to deal with. "Yeah, sloppy all around on England. I didn't expect much out of them, to be honest. Not been impressed in their international play and not one of the keepers was worth a toss."

Ygraine is clearly rather startled by the action - and the complaint-free response from the bartender. "I… ahh… do you have any Belgian fruit beers? If so, a cherry one. If not… I'll try what he's having", she says, jerking a thumb at the Swedish bottle.

Looking back to Adam, she chuckles ruefully. "Oh, James is a superb shot-stopper. Always has been. He's just… unreliable. Which is a bit of a problem, of course. Hart's got promise, and Green was unlucky to have such a cock-up in such a vital game. But yeah - oh for the days of Shilton. Or even Seaman."

Adam ahs, "Yes, yes. Although, the best english keeper I have ever seen play was Gordon Banks. The man could stop…" he pauses for a moment and looks over Ygraine, "A bit before your time, I suppose." truth be told, from how he looks, Adam couldn't have been much older than 10 at the time. "Ah well, they make too much money now. Makes them soft. They can run five miles, but their hunger is gone."

Ygraine laughs softly. "I've seen some of the footage of Banks. That save from Pele, in particular. But… it still attracts some people who seem to truly care. Terry's been a moron off the pitch this year, but he was at least committed on the pitch. That crazy head-first dive to try to get something in the way of - ahhh, thank you."

Smiling, Ygraine accepts her bottle of cherry beer from the tender, offering a folded bill between the fingers of her other hand.

Adam raises his hand at the gesture which immediately sends the bartender off before he can accept the bill. Adam pauses only long enough to finish off his own beer, "So, what's your name, young socca fan?" he asks, "And what is it that you came all the way to America to do?"

Ygraine pauses, head slightly cocked as she studies Adam for a few moments. "Mmmm. Are you the owner, or something?", she asks curiously, before chuckling. "Though I shouldn't really answer a question with another query, I suppose."

Adam nods, "Indeed, it's a bit rude actually." he says with a bit of a smile. He leans against the bar a bit, "So..what have we then?"

A soft laugh, then a shrug. "Ygraine", she provides, before dryly adding, "and yes, it is an unusual name, as I keep getting told."

Adam considers the name, no longer even paying attention to the match. "Ygraine…with an I?" he questions, "Your parents were Camelot fans? Mother of Arthur and Morganna, yeah? I remember reading the Once and Future King.." he pauses, distant a moment before he says, "A long time ago." he finally says.

Ygraine laughs, raising her bottle in a half-serious toast. "Well done. They apparently felt that it would go withe surname - I'm a FitzRoy", she says… leaving that unexplained as if to test him.

Adam, coming from a time when surnames were much more meaningful pauses a moment, "But you're not a boy.." in apparently consternation. He tilts his head a bit, "Parents hoping for one?"

Another chuckle. "It's my surname. No more a claim to royalty than is the case for the descendants of Robert de Brus using the name Bruce, or MacGregors adhering to their surname, in spite of the clan motto. But… my parents felt that Ygraine would go well with it."

Adam ponders a bit, "Well, it has a certain…synergy, I suppose." his head dips a moment as he seems to think about it, lost in his own thoughts before he glances back, "And so, what is it that you do, Ygraine Fitzroy?" he questions, "Not being of royal stock?"

"Well… very distantly", she says with a wink. "Sufficiently far back we're not at all sure which dynasty, let alone which king, I confess. Quite probably a Stewart somewhere along the line, either North or South of the border, given their habits. But… sorry. Babbling."

She coughs self-consciously, then shrugs. "I… work as a courier, actually. For a company called Alley Cat. One of the crazy ones that handles routes running through the Ruins."

Adam looks a bit quizzical at this, as if this wasn't what he was expecting to hear and perhaps it wasn't. Educated and british, after all, should be at university or at a museum or something. It's rather a waste of an accent, really. He offers a polite hm in response, nodding just a bit, "And…that's what you…like to do?" with a bit of dubiousness to his tone, as if he isn't quite sure how else to phrase it.

Ygraine laughs. "Oh, when I first came back, it was hugely worthwhile", she says with a somewhat rueful smile. "We were often the only people willing to go from one end of Manhattan to the other. We set up a mail service, since the official services weren't delivering to half of Queens - but would drop post off with us. Genuinely doing good work, and… it kept me in shape."

A slow shrug. "I used to be a professional cyclist. Track. One of the idiots who rode round and round in a velodrome for a living. I dabbled a bit in other fields, and was attempting to set myself up with a long-term career in case it didn't work out. In oh-six, I was over here as an intern. Doing translation work for one of the UN departments. That was my long-term plan, really - try to get my foot in the door and see how things worked out, while still training and pursing the cycling."

Adam prompts, "And that didn't work out?"

A long swig of the beer, then Ygraine shrugs, shoulders somewhat tight. "I was here in November '06. I got nuked", she says dryly. "Woke up in a field hospital a couple of days later. Was in an institution back home a few days after that. Got out the following Summer. Didn't quite manage to pick up my Olympic dreams after that, though I gave it a shot. And… came back here to face down a few demons and see what I could do to help give the city some CPR in the process."

Adam listens to the story, other than his brief prod to get more information from it. He's quiet as the tip of his finger presses against the surface of the bar and slides across it for a few moments, he glances up at the tv to catch a few moments of the match before turning back towards Ygraine, "I've got to ask, Ygraine, if I might. How hard of a worker are you? Are you the type who would go to school and work full time to make something work?"

Ygraine's rather distant gaze is drawn away from the general direction of the TV, as she looks back to Adam, brows lifting. "Go to school? I've got a couple of degrees, and they really don't help a lot with most jobs", she says with a laugh. "Or were you thinking of something else?"

Adam mms, "Business degree, actually. You said nothing of it, I assumed it wasn't in the picture." he picks up a glass of water that was apparently delivered and it's hard to pinpoint when it got there exactly, "I'm not saying Wharton's, local city college would do. But, it's something you'd need to do." for what, exactly, hasn't been told, the first question hasn't been answered.

The other brow goes up. "Need to do? For what?", Ygraine asks with a laugh. "I've no obvious need for a third degree at the moment…."

Adam nods, "But you didn't answer my first question. Are you the type? You could imagine 50 hour work weeks if you include school. Are you that kind of person?"

Ygraine takes another drink, eyeing Adam quizzically. "It would very much depend on the goal. In and of itself, a fifty-hour work week holds no particular appeal. Give me something to work for…" She shrugs slightly, muscles shifting smoothly under pale skin. "I competed for the best international team in my sport. And I was good enough to do that in large part because I could push myself, week after week and year after year."

Adam leans back, "I'm leaving the city, actually." he announces as if it was part of the conversation the whole time. "And this bar, my bar, has no one to run it." his head tilts a moment, "Why don't you run it? You go to school and take your business classes so you figure out /how/ to run it. I know what you're thinking, why let someone with no experience run a bar? That's a way to lose money, yeah?" he pauses, "The truth is, I don't care. It can lose money for now and eventually, when you get the hang of it, it won't." he leans forward, "I don't know your life, Ygraine, but my guess is that's the best offer you've had in a long time. It's not glamorous, but managing a successful bar in the upper east side can be…" he pauses, "Fulfilling. For the right person."

Closely studying Adam, Ygraine remains silent for a few moments, gaze flickering to and fro as she searches his face. "So… I study for an MBA, and you give me a job?", she asks curiously. "Why me?"

Adam replies, "No, I give you a job /and/ you study for an MBA." he replies, "Why not you?" there's a shrug, there's a certain sense of not caring anymore, "It's a sports bar, you love sports. I don't know if you watch American football, but you'll have to study up on that, that tends to occupy the time before the start of the premier season." he raises a hand, "Better to leave it to you than…no one."

Chris darts a glance towards the bartender, then lifts a brow at Adam once more. "And… a total stranger's the best bet?" She sounds impressed, not laughing at or mocking him. "I admire your bravery. I'd best warn you now - I travel. You're not going to get the American-style ten days of holiday per year approach from me, since I'll always make time to travel back across the Pond to see my wife now and then, whatever job I have. But… you've certainly caught my interest."

Adam tilts his head a moment, "Wife?" he shakes his head, "Modernity." he says with a cluck of his tongue, then moves on from that, "And how much travel time are we talking?" he asks.

Ygraine shrugs expansively. "We don't exactly have a schedule, at the moment - she's studying to be an actress, and I can generally take time off from riding whenever I want to. But if I was free to arrange work schedules, it shouldn't pose problems. Could lump together time off to give freedom to get there and back again without being jet-lagged the whole time. Hrmmmm. How long do I have to make my mind up, and what're you offering by way of pay and financial support for the MBA?"

Adam tilts his head to one side as he considers this, "I don't think if you were leaving for months at a time it would work out. If you feel you could…do this travel thing without interfering with the running of the bar, then I suppose I would allow it." in response to the next, "Oh, I think standard pay would be fair." which is neither insignificant or impressive for running such an establishment, "It's not as if I'm not rather giving you quite the leg up already." he pauses at the question of financial support for the MBA. "I'd be willing to kick in for some, though not all of it. It'd be something you'd have to make work. Call it part of your test. As for how much time? I leave very soon, so very little."

"I don't know what any specific one costs, but I seem to recall that the average is something like eighteen thousand. Oddly enough, I don't have that sort of money just lying around", Ygraine says with a wry smile. "And my home's already mortgaged. I'll have to have a look at costs, and what 'standard pay' might be, and see if it'd just bankrupt me. But you've got my interest, at least."

Adam slips a hand into his jacket and pulls out a card, "I would act very fast." he says as he slips the card across, "That's my lawyer. He'll want to run a background check and what not. Wouldn't want you to have any warrants or anything." he raises a hand, "I've got some business to attend to. Hope to hear from you."

Ygraine takes a moment to read the card, before ducking her head to her mysterious would-be benefactor. "What should I call you?", she asks curiously.

Adam chuckles a bit in respond, "Boss, I suppose." his head tilts, "But, I suppose you could call me Adam."

Ygraine snorts a laugh, then inclines her head to him. "A pleasure to meet you, Adam. I'll be in touch with your lawyer soon."

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