The Pub

One thing about having a room mate with post traumatic stress disorder, Lizzie gets sent out a lot. Delivery people are persona non-grata, due to being strangers, and even though she's offered to protect her gracious host, Lizzie's former therapist has nixed anyone coming to the house for any reason. Not that the little socialite eats pizza anyway, but she knows a liquor delivery service.

The bouncer is bypassed easily enough, enough though the blonde doesn't have any ID to speak of, she really doesn't look old enough to be in a bar. All it really takes is a stare down and the age old "Excuse me? Do you know who I am?!" Her shrill little voice causes everyone in the place to freeze and stare for a while, until someone recognizes her as that weregoldfish from that soap. Then she's the belle of the ball.

And she's loving it.

So, New York is a pretty interesting place, to say the least. People aren't nearly as nice as they are down south where Aiden comes from, not nearly as friendly as he's used to. Today, he's making use of that handy dandy fake ID, seated at the bar and quietly sipping at a mug of some amber-colored beer, his eyes upon the television. He certainly doesn't want to get drunk, but a beer or two never hurt anyone.

The blue-eyed man is one of the many heads that turn toward Lizzie as she speaks, his brows raising. He certainly doesn't recognize her…but she has caught his interest, sweet-looking little thing she is. A small smile appears on the young man's face as she enters, and he turns in his seat to face her. He doesn't make a move to greet her, yet, sipping at his beer as he reads the room's reaction to the apparently famous girl…

After signing a few autographs, answering a few questions, and blowing more of the soap opera's plot than she's contractually allowed, Lizzie eases herself from the gaggle of women that avidly watch the prime time program. None of them noticed, not one. The young woman sidles up to the bar just on the other side of the blue eyed young man and smiles at the bartender. "I'll have one of whatever he's having, please~" she sing songs as she points to the amber brew. "And a menu please."

She almost forgot the original reason why she was sent out. Food. Who can think of that stuff when there's drinks to be had, really. The young woman turns to smile at the beer's owner and gives him a little nod. "Hi!" Her young sounding chirp is nothing at all like the sultry siren's on the small screen. She's cheerful and smiling while the character on television is generally surly.

The man watches quietly as she interacts with her fans, chuckling softly to himself. His mother used to watch soap operas, but he always found them not suiting to his tastes. Too much drama and emotion, and far too complicated to be of any interest to the rather simple man. His brows raise as the girl sidles up right next to him, taking a draught of his beer as he discreetly eyes her, while she speaks to the bartender.

He's even more surprised when she talks to him. He was starting to think that nobody in New York ever spoke to anybody they didn't know, or something to that effect. Sure, he's met a few folks, but the general attitude seems unfriendly. His brows raise even further, and he offers a warm smile in response. "Good evenin', ma'am. What's a pretty little star like yourself doin' here all alone?"

He offers a hand; should she take it, he dips his head down to kiss the back of it in a true gentlemanly fashion. "I would expect such a beautiful young lady as yourself to have a man following you around and fulfillin' your every whim." When he speaks, it's in a distinct French-Southern accent. Definitely a Cajun. He turns those blue eyes briefly to the bartender, smiling. "Please, sir, put anythin' she orders on my tab."

Lizzie can't help but grin widely as she hears Aiden talk, his smooth as silk speech is a far cry from the harsh New York accents that fill the pub. "Oh, uhm…" she watches carefully as Aiden takes her hand and catches her breath as soon as his lips touch down on her skin. There's a tinge of blush on her cheeks when he looks at her again, things like that don't happen too often outside of television or movies. "My room mate wanted to have some stew, I don't know how to make it very well." The near whispered reply to his first question is answered haltingly as she uses the same time to compose herself by turning away and getting up on a stool next to his.

Once she's completely settled in and comfortable, she swings around and waits for her beer. "So she sent me out to get it…." The offer to pay catches her by complete surprise, "Are you sure? I mean, you don't have to, I have a lot of money." Presumably from the job she's no longer employed at. "But.. thank you, my name's Lizzie."

Oh, she's responding nicely to the gentlemanly charm. Aiden can't help but flash a bright white smile. "Well, at some point I'll have to teach you how to make a good gumbo, then. Satisfies all the cravin's for stew." He chuckles, leaning back in his barstool and taking a drink of his beer, watching Lizzie with twinkling eyes as he ponders his next move.

He lets out a smooth chuckle, waving a hand and shaking his head. "Ain't no thing. I don't believe in lettin' a lady pay for her own things. It's not right." He chuckles softly. "I'm Aiden Calcasieu. Come from Avery Island, Louisiana. Very different from here." From his pocket, a miniature bottle of Tabasco sauce is produced and slid toward Lizzie. "Add this t'your stew. Helps y'keep healthy."

The young blonde picks up the tiny bottle of sauce and examines it carefully. "I've never had gumbo… it's got okra in it, doesn't it?" The question is posed with something of a little wrinkle of distaste in her nose. She leans forward just a little and speaks lower, so the bartender doesn't hear the 'super secret' she's about to impart. "I tried a piece of fried okra the other day, it wasn't very good." She straightens back up and gives a smile to the bartender as he places her beer on the bartop.

"I was in Europe last month, did you know that people drink wine and beer more than water? Well I don't know if it's more than water, but it's a lot." She raises her mug to Aiden's and clinks the glassware. "To Avery Island and tobasco sauce!" Then she takes a long drink. When the mug is finally pulled away, a little bit of foam is left on her upper lip, forming a nice thin mustache.

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