this is a chemistry lesson

[episodic]

Comments

[unforgivably]

Okay. What are my pieces. My style. My... hair.

( As she didn't give him her poison for a shot, she did order the seven and seven, so she pours a more palatable whiskey to shoot, one in each small shot glass. )

And then I'll do you.

[beanchaointe]

[Okay, she'll play the game. And she didn't answer because she was still nursing the drink she already had. Still, she straightens a bit, before studying him.]

You have expensive taste for a bartender - at least a bartender of this establishment. And don't get me wrong, you mix a good drink, but I wouldn't say you spend a lot of your time behind the bar. You seem pretty comfortable here, though, so I'd say you've been in this little town for a while.

[And there's something else. Something that nags in the back of her mind, but it's not her personal intuition that's tingling. It's the other part of her that she doesn't want to deal with when playing a game with a cute bartender.]

[unforgivably]

( Shots are shots. They come before, during, after... drinks. But, fair enough.

He sets the one shot out for her as he speaks. As he sets it down, he speaks. )

All true. I was born here. I have better taste than 90% of this town, and, I own this place. I bartend when I have to. Mine called in.

( So, he stepped up. )

Truth be told, I'm covering for another hour and then I'm off. I have someone coming in. All good catches.

[beanchaointe]

I've gotten good at watching people.

[She will take the shot, though. Swallow it back with the practiced ease of someone who has to find dead people all the time.]

Your turn.

[unforgivably]

( He matches her ease with someone who barely metabolizes alcohol and drinks like a fish like all vampires. )

You're meticulous. You like things just so, and you make decisions for a reason. What you where any day, how you wear your hair. Just the right shade of lipstick. You stand out in a town like this, but you're also comfortable in a town like this, which either means you're an everyman - so to speak - or you grew up in a town, much like this. Probably bigger. You also have expensive taste, but, like how you choose what you wear, you buy with purpose. You don't buy to buy. And you recognize that in others. You know what you like. You don't settle for less than you're worth.

( He says everything as if he's studying her, but not as if he's dissecting her. He's not trying to pick her apart, and he speaks with the tilt of his head.

He smiles. )

How'd I do?

[beanchaointe]

[He is perceptive. But she would expect nothing less from a bartender.]

Not bad. But Beacon Hills actually wasn't bigger. Just about the same.

[So basically the size was an optical And well, she thinks her clothes speak for themselves.]

[unforgivably]

Where's Beacon Hills?

( Damon does have two waiters, but he gets a ticket or two that pops up. So, he makes the drinks adjacent to Lydia, so he can still hear her answers.

And yeah, Lydia, he's a bartender. He'd hope he's more perspective than just a bartender, though. )

[beanchaointe]

California.

[She doesn't miss Beacon Hills, but she does miss the California weather.]

Most people haven't heard of it.

[unforgivably]

This isn't the part where I tell you I'm not most people. ( He sets the prepared drinks by a tray and sticks the corresponding tickets to them. ) But, that doesn't mean I'm not.

( One of his waiters walks over Lydia's order, holding the tray from the bottom. )

Right here. Bar one. The well-dressed redhead.

( Yes, within earshot of her. She knows she's well dressed. )

Not at all related, I still never got your name. Should you want to give it, I'd listen. ( He'd learn it. )

[beanchaointe]

[She adjusts her belongings to make space for the plate, before glancing up at him with a smirk. She figured he'd get around to that eventually.]

Lydia.

[Being her name.]

[unforgivably]

Thank you.

( He does let her eat and mind any messages in piece, as he's still working.

Soon enough, someone comes to relieve him, which means taking one of the registers in the back and counting. That takes only about twenty minutes and then he's properly tapping the machine and clocking out.

Ending up on the other side of the bar, he pulls on his jacket approaches a seat -- two away from Lydia. )

Do you mind if I take a seat? Some nights I stay after. Celebrate the job well done.

( There's also barely anything to do in this town. It's the Grille, the bar on the interstate, or Damon's house. Which is, much more compact compared to the Salvatore School aka the old boarding house. Without Stefan, that place is large. )

[beanchaointe]

[She shakes her head.]

Free country. And you do own the place.

[So she's not going to tell Damon that he can't sit in his own bar. She also is intrigued by him, but that's not important to his question.]

[unforgivably]

If you wanted peace and quiet. Privacy. I'd give that.

( But, she says it's a free country, so he takes a seat next to her. )

How did you like the county's best curly fries, Lydia?

[beanchaointe]

Not bad.

[She's had better, but she's not here to insult the owner of the establishment. And the only reason she'd call them better was because they were in Beacon Hills, and a staple of her childhood.]

For an air fryer.

[unforgivably]

For an air fryer.

( He speaks into his glass, his voice echoing as he half smiles. )

Ouch. I'll have you know we're state of the art in the Mystic Grill.

[beanchaointe]

Oh, I'm sure.

[She sounds like she's dubious of that statement, but it's mostly in good fun.]

I can almost taste it.

[In the fries.]

[unforgivably]

Go ahead. Knock us for the seasoning. Everybody knows seasoning makes the fries.

( He teases back, setting his glass back down. )

I'm sorry the torrential downpour changed your plans. I'm not sorry you ended up at my bar.

[beanchaointe]

I'll admit, it's becoming less regrettable.

[You're not terrible company after all.]

Certainly much better company than I expected.

[unforgivably]

What did you expect? Cat? Dog? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?

( No judgments, here, Lydia. )

[beanchaointe]

[She shrugs.]

Mostly a lot of small town stares. Coming from one, I know how people tend to treat the new girl.

[unforgivably]

I meant, back in DC. At the impeccably dressed apartment you must have.

( But, he'll let her stay mysterious. )

This town's not really the 'stare the new people' down, town. They're very much into their own lives. Their history. We have an event, like, every weekend.

[beanchaointe]

Oh. I don't live in DC. What was waiting for me there was a friend's couch until I caught my flight back to Boston tomorrow.

[She wasn't trying to be mysterious. She just misunderstood the question.]

That frequently? Sounds like people get bored pretty easily around here.

[unforgivably]

( His mouth forms a small 'o.' Boston. Tea parties. Red Sox. Boston's not a place he goes often. )

No, they love their town's history. It's not out of boredom, it's out of tradition.

[beanchaointe]

Is that better or worse?

[She has to ask, because she could understand boredom. Tradition is a bit more difficult.]

[unforgivably]

It's -- quaint.

( He points to himself with his drink. )

I'm a founding family member. It's in my blood.