Absinthe
Art Nouveau decor throughout the main lounge pays homage to an era when architecture and interior design were the perfect marriage of form, function and art. The walls are purples and pinks that blend into more subtle hues with the constant green lighting. Small tables with four tall chairs can be found scattered about the room. Large purple couches can be found nestled between the table sets, and in front of a smaller stage used for poetry readings.
The bar itself is long, taking up the entirety of a wall. Tall chairs are scattered on the patron side, and behind the bar is a beautiful greenish glow. The glow comes from the shelving where the majority of the alcohol is stored. The nearby glass racks reflect the glow splendidly as well.
The after-work crowd has just started to really fill out the lounge, but Jamie has already claimed a seat at the crowded bar; her bag of fashionably distressed leather marks the seat next to her as taken. (It's possible she's already offered out a few glares to unsuspecting innocents who have attempted to join her.) Still dressed from work, her outfit consists of a slim, charcoal pencil skirt and a breezy, pale yellow blouse tucked neatly in at her waist. Her dark hair is twisted up and away from her face, but a few loose strands have pulled free (or been purposefully placed) to frame the angles of her face. As she waits, she sips at a cocktail in a martini glass that, from its particular coloring that is certainly not clear, is almost assuredly not an actual martini. The heel of one pump slips off her foot as she rests her toe on the rung of her barstool. Her expression is drawn flat with the hint of boredom.
Tasha has only just recently finished a long shift of her own, though she's at least taken the trouble to change out of the scrubs and into something classier and more dressy-looking, though the bags under her eyes would attest to the lack of sleep, and her restless air the souvenir of whatever she took to help get her through the long hours. Her own hair left down, she slips into the lounge, checking her watch and frowning as she finds herself running a few minutes late - something quite unusual for the extreme Type-A personality, but sometimes things do come up beyond even her control. The older Cox sister pauses not far inside the doorway, quickly scanning the area for that familiar face. Upon spotting Jamie, she heads briskly in that direction, wholly ignoring the other patrons. "Sorry I'm late," she apologizes as she comes up beside her baby sister.
"I was pining," Jamie informs her sister, a little deadpan. She reaches to twist one hand around the handle of her bag and pull it off the seat next to her to leave it open for Tasha. "About to send out the search parties. Tasha Cox, ten minutes late." Her smile is very slight, but it carries the hint of something dryly amused tucked away in the corners of her mouth. Her pale eyes take in her sister's appearance with a quick one-over. "You look terrible," she says. "Have a drink." Before even waiting for a response, she's twisting in her seat to lift one hand in a quick gesture for the nearest bartender.
"Nine and a half," Tasha is quick to correct, and she's not even entirely joking. Yes, she's timed it down to the second, of course. She runs a hand back through her hair, giving her sister a flat look as her appearance is commented upon. With a touch of self-consciousness, she runs a hand back through her hair and then moves to settle in the empty seat. "You, of course, do not." And in there in a bit of suggestion that Jamie maybe spends a little too much time worrying about how she looks. Still, there are drinks to be had. She drums her fingers with excess energy upon the bar while she waits for the bartender to make his way over. "And how is work treating you?"
"Apparently better than yours." Jamie smooths her fingers along one side of her hair in some reflexive reaction to Tasha's comment, the gesture sure and graceful — but not without a milder hint of self-awareness that almost but doesn't quite reach self-consciousness. "Getting tired of feeling like I'm still settling in." One finger smooths lightly around the base of her martini glass. "You?" The bartender makes his way down the line of thirsty patrons to lean over to Tasha for her order.
Tasha takes a moment to order her drink first, opting for a gin and tonic, before she turns back to face Jamie, considering the points raised thus far. "It passes, the feeling," she assures her sister. Then again, the whole time Tasha was away in New York herself, she felt like she was away from home - so returning was more like coming back from a terrible vacation. "Unpack, get organized, and it all comes back." She sits back in her seat slightly, fingers curling around the edge of the bar, though the excess energy has merely transferred itself to a jiggling foot. "I'm doing well, actually. Despite 'looking terrible', things are going just fine." Everything is always 'fine', even when it's not, but this time, surprisingly, she almost seems to mean it.
"It's already /here/," Jamie insists. "I don't have to wait for it all to come back. I'm just waiting for everybody at work to start trusting the new girl." Her gaze drops to Tasha's jiggling foot, noting but not commenting before lifting back to her sister's face. Her eyes narrow, brief and slight, as if assessing the honesty of Tasha's words. She makes a noncommittal noise. "You look ready to fall over or something. What's up?"
"Then I would think you're settled. It's just the people at your job who aren't," Tasha points out with a shrug. "Sometimes you have to pay your dues." And goodness knows, she would know that better than most, going through her grueling residency as she is. Though she doesn't mean it to sound condescending, there's a slight thought in the back of her mind that her little sister couldn't possibly understand just how many dues some people have to pay. "I'm fine. It's merely been a long shift, and I haven't been to bed yet." In fact, the last time she slept was nearly two days ago. But there's no note of complaint to her tone. Instead, she brightens a bit as her drink is brought to her, and she pauses to take a sip.
Jamie purses her lips lightly as she watches her sister, then she pulls her gaze away to pluck her drink off the bar and bring to her lips to sip. "I know that," she says with the smallest touch of defensiveness at Tasha's implication. "I'm just impatient." She takes another sip and then places the martini glass carefully back on the bartop.
Tasha eyes her sister for a moment, looking as if she honestly can't understand where this defensiveness comes from. She's just trying to offer some sound advice from her own (more considerable) life experience. "Of course you're impatient. We want what we want when we want it. And there's nothing wrong with that. You just have to remember-" This time, however, she cuts herself off with a little sigh, waving a hand, at least intelligent enough to realize further words of advice aren't going to help much either.
"Wow." Jamie lifts one eyebrow with a dry touch to her expression. "When did you get so old?" There is the hint of affection in the words, but it's buried deep.
"I'm not old," Tasha insists, now with a touch of defensiveness of her own, try as she might not to rise to such bait - or come out with such a lame response to it. But she's tired, and a bit out-of-practice with the sibling banter. She at least realizes how flat that was and frowns down at her drink, before taking a long sip of it. "So, ah, I was wondering if you were perhaps free this weekend or next," she begins, apropos of nothing, and suddenly uncharacteristically awkward about this.
Jamie looks rather self-satisfied when her shot hits, but it morphs smooth enough into curiosity at Tasha's question. "Are you kidding?" she replies. "I already have multiple dates set up for every weekend this month." She takes another sip of her drink and replaces it once more. "That was a joke," she tells Tasha. In case she hadn't noticed. "Sure, I'm not completely booked or anything. What's up?"
In fact, until Jamie clarifies that her comment was a joke, Tasha was already beginning to figure out alternative dates around busy and unusual schedules. There's no denying that Jamie's social calendar is certainly more interesting than the workaholic's, though Tasha has made some strides there within the last few months, which is, actually, what this is about. "I thought perhaps, if you were available, you might … care to meet James?" The boyfriend, which is unusual enough. That she's actually introducing him to family is unheard of. He's already met their parents, if only just a week ago.
Jamie 's eyebrows shoot up. A little belated in her surprise, she is still genuine when she replies, "Sure. Of course." Her smile follows along shortly, small but genuinely pleased. She reaches over to give Tasha's leg a quick squeeze. "I'd love to meet him."
"All right," Tasha agrees with an efficient nod, covering for that moment of feeling vulnerable by being extra brisk for a moment. "Call me when you know your schedule and we'll set up a time." Still, the briskness fades with relative quickness, and Jamie is offered a sincere enough smile in return. "I think you'll like him." It's as close as she'll come to gushing. "As much as it pains me to give mother this much to work with," she adds more wryly. Already there's talk of marriage and children.
"Sure." Jamie is already digging through her bag for her blackberry to punch in a note for herself. Her gaze is directed there for the moment, so she sounds a little distracted when she replies, "Of course." But she looks up a moment later, smile catching as she realizes her distraction. "Of course I will. I'm sure he's great." Her grin catches sharply. "I mean — you guys are getting married tomorrow and having kids this weekend, right?"
Tasha just watches as Jamie makes such efficient use of her electronics, not terribly put out at the distraction, least of all because it's for her own benefit. She passes the time by taking a sip of her drink, which she nearly chokes on as her sister turns things around on her again. "Do not even start. I'm pretty certain that mother is already picking out names and knitting booties, and I'm going to regret telling you that, aren't I," she notes, all in one continuous, run-on thought. "How about you? Any potential suitors on the horizon?" Now it's her turn to sound like mom.
"What, you think I couldn't /guess/ mom's behavior without you telling me?" Jamie replies with a little skeptical noise that's almost a snort. "Come on. I don't need you to tell me she's making wedding plans." She stuffs her phone back in her bag. "You know me." And that's it. Apparently Tasha knows /something/.
Tasha pushes her hand back through her hair again, draining the last of her drink. Family stuff is always stressful, though at least Jamie is much less so than mom. But now that they're talking about their mother, it's bringing back all the stress with that strained relationship. "Yes, well. I don't know what I was thinking, letting her meet him." Though at least he survived the encounter, which says something for him. At Jamie's abrupt comment about her own love life, Tasha merely arches an eyebrow. "All right. These things have a way of surprising you though, sometimes." And now she's back to trying to provide sage big sister advice, only a few months in to her only successful relationship.
"Probably something along the lines of 'I'm serious enough about this relationship that I now feel morally obligated to introduce him to my parents,'" Jamie suggests with an unsympathetic smile that enjoys Tasha's situation just a bit too much. "Which must mean that you guys /are/ pretty serious." She rolls her eyes at the sisterly advice and tosses back the last of her drink. "I'll keep that in mind."
Tasha has to consider that response, unable to entirely deny it, though the idea of coming out and admitting it's 'pretty serious' makes her look distinctly uncomfortable again. This is all new ground to her, and dragging family into it has meant having to figure out her own stance on things. And then, of course, there's the fact that Jamie is enjoying this far too much, which earns her another flat look, as Tasha begins toying with her empty glass, turning it about on its rim. "I'm just taking it as it comes," she replies rather carefully, not looking to give her sister more ammunition than necessary. The fact that her advice goes over like a lead balloon merely elicits a shake of her head. Her sister is so stubborn sometimes.
"That is such a commitmentphobe-suddenly-finding-herself-in-a-commitment thing to say," Jamie points out. More offhand, she asks, "Want another?" with a tip of her chin in the direction of Tasha's empty glass.
"Don't tell me you are going to lecture me on being afraid of commitment," Tasha replies, getting her back up as the comment clearly strikes a little too close to the truth of the matter. The offer of another drink at least cuts her off at the pass before she can really get defensive. "Yes, I do," she decides definitively. This conversation requires more alcohol.
"Nope. Just pointing out the obvious." Jamie glances back towards the bartender to vie for his attention, but winds up frowning when he's occupied at the other end of the bar. She keeps her eyes on him as she speaks so as to not miss her chance to catch him. "I'm just saying you're doing that — thing. That you do."
Tasha is content to let her younger sister work on flagging down the bartender for refills, since it leaves her unoccupied the better to try to figure out what exactly is being said here. "What thing? I do not have a thing," she both asks and insists in the same breath. Though, despite the reflexive denial, she still waits for an answer on the first question, watching her sister closely, even as Jamie watches the bartender.
"Your — evasive thing," Jamie says, having to mull over how to describe a concept she's clearly never put words to before. "You know. The 'I'm a tough bitch with no gooey center' thing." She cranes her neck a bit, waiting for her opportunity with the bartender.
Tasha clearly doesn't know quite how to take that. If it were more insulting or less true, she could just get offended, which would be so much easier. Instead, she finds herself actually having to consider that point, before relenting a little with a put-upon sigh. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she replies, though that almost seems to be done just to get it out of the way. "Honestly, it's all just a bit … overwhelming. Truly great," she's quick to stress, "But overwhelming. I'm still working on figuring it all out." It's hard for her, trying to do something she doesn't understand, and isn't naturally good at.
"Yes you do." But Jamie's voice is a little gentler now as she takes some small mercy upon her sister. Finally — /finally/ — the bartender looks over long enough for her to grab his attention. It still another moment before he can make his way back down to them, though. "I'm glad it's great," she says sincerely, looking back at her sister. "Honest."
Tasha doesn't bother getting into a 'do too-do not' argument over this one, least of all because Jamie's right and Tasha knows she is. So she merely makes a skeptical noise as to whether or not she knows and then grows quiet to watch Jamie flag down the bartender. Finally, at her sister's sincerity, Tasha manages a small but sincere smile of her own. "Thank you. I'm glad as well, obviously. Surprised, but certainly glad."
Once the bartender finally makes his way down, Jamie just indicates their two drinks to ask for two of the same. "So is he super sexy?" she asks with the hint of a tease in her voice.
"Oh God, yes," Tasha replies with a quiet laugh, and really, that's the first direction question about it that she's been able to answer without doubt or hesitation. She almost surprises herself with her forthrightness there, but mostly, she's just quietly amused. "Though don't go getting any ideas." Not that she's really worried, but there's definitely some possessiveness there.
Jamie laughs with a hint of surprise at Tasha's quick reply. "Awesome," she says with grinning approval. "You deserve super sexy." She smirks a bit at the warning. "I'll try to contain myself," she says dryly. The bartender sets down both their drinks and slides them over.
Tasha's smile grows wider and also a little sheepish as she realizes just how abrupt she was. Though it's not something she's going to apologize for. "I suppose I do deserve … super sexy," she agrees with some amusement, taking her refill with a nod of acknowledgement to the bartender. "Yes, see that you do." But by now, the possessiveness has given way to honest jest.
"How's the sex?" Jamie asks, blithely ignoring whether or not the question is appropriate. She picks up her fresh drink to sip at it. Innocently.
"Jamie," Tasha chides in a lowered voice, giving her sister a look. "That's hardly-" She begins to protest, before cutting herself off, realizing that she's once again rising to the bait. "The sex is amazing, if you must know," she replies, somehow managing to make that sound so prim and proper.
"/Tiffany/," Jamie replies in an exaggerated mimic of her sister. "Oh my God," she says, shaking her head with a sort of delighted incredulity at Tasha. "You sound /just/ like mom. Not the sex part. Just the way you /said/ it."
Tasha flinches at that dreaded name, though she grits her teeth against commenting upon it. It gets easier to let it pass when Jamie comes out with something even worse. "I most certainly do not!" she protests, looking as though Jamie had struck her. "Simply because I don't want to discuss my sex life with my baby sister…" She pauses to take a long swig of her new drink, draining nearly a half of it in one go. "James is incredible in bed, and well, anywhere else we happen to end up." It's spoken defiantly, almost as though she's trying to prove that she can.
"I'm /two years younger/," Jamie counters, frowning as Tasha gets close to a button of her own. She bites back another laugh soon enough. "Good for you," she says solemnly. "I'm not touching anything in your apartment."
Tasha is somewhat vindicated as she manages to get however small a rise out of Jamie in return. Birth order is always a powerful thing. She doesn't bother pushing that button further, figuring it's enough of a warning at that. "Thank you," she replies once again, at the kudos, looking rather a bit pleased about the situation. "And I have cleaned up, you know."
"How well?" Jamie asks, eyes narrowed with feigned suspicion.
"As thoroughly as I do anything," Tasha replies, giving her sister a pointed look. Considering how anal she is about pretty much everything, it follows she's done a pretty thorough job. An overachiever in everything she does, truly. She takes another sip of her drink, a little more sedately this time.
"I'll watch where I step." Jamie sips carefully, almost ladylike, at her cocktail.
"Suit yourself," Tasha replies with a shrug, feigning indifference to the whole thing now as she turns her glass between her hands. She glances at her watch and then frowns. "I should be getting back. He'll worry if I'm too late," she says without even realizing how domestic that sounds.
"How /cute/." Jamie realizes. (Of course she realizes.) "I suppooose," she says, drawing out the verb, "that I can entertain myself."
"It isn't cute, it's practical. And considerate," Tasha insists. Because if there's one thing she's known for, it's being considerate. "Besides, I'm sure you have at least fifty other things you'd rather be doing." She drains back the rest of her drink in one go and then sets down the empty glass. "But I'll see you soon, yes?" Though she doesn't come out and say as much, she's glad to have her sister back.
"But I'll always have time for my old, decrepit sister," Jamie promises. "Fifty things or not." She reaches out to tug gently at a lock of Tasha's hair. "I'll see you later."
Tasha gives a quiet laugh at that, eyeing somewhat dubiously as her hair is tugged, but not really minding the familiar gesture. "All right. Well, do try to keep yourself out of trouble," she replies, teasingly making it sound like she doubts Jamie will be able to do so. "Have a good night." With that she sets down some money to cover the drinks and a suitable tip, before rising from her stool to make her way to the door.
"Do my best." Jamie lifts a hand to wiggle her fingers in a little wave before her gaze is caught in following her sister out of the door.
