(no subject)

[remainingpride.livejournal.com]

Who: Everyone who's coming to Swayze's tonight!
What: St. Patrick's Day celebrations.

It was nearing the time when he expected everyone to start coming in. Lockon relaxed behind the bar, arms crossed over his chest and an easy smile on his lips. He'd been there since early in the evening. The few days off that he had were welcoming, especially considering that he'd had so few off since arriving in Babylon, but the atmosphere of the bar was comforting. In almost every day, it made him at ease. He wasn't certain why, because it was a sign that he was idle, that he wasn't doing anything, but he knew there would only be time before he had to take up a gun again and point it at someone. Places rarely remained peaceful.

But he was willing to welcome the atmosphere of the night. Swayze's was a typical bar. There were dim lights and a large bar with numerous glass bottles on display. There was a stage, but it was rarely used (though he made sure it was set up that night for karaoke performances), and several tables off to the side with small menus on them. To the left of the bar were several set up tables with workers in jeans and T-shirts, ready to replace the food. The food itself was supposed to be Irish fare, but missed the mark a little. There were potatoes, of course, and meat, but there were also hot dogs, hamburgers, and pizza. He supposed they had to meet everyone's desires.

Over the speakers, The Beatles were playing. Lockon pointed out that The Beatles were an English band, and that a holiday about Irish identity probably shouldn't coincide with music like that, but his boss shrugged it off and said that it was "the best they could manage." Apparently, the only other artist they could find was a failed contestant on some American reality television show. He supposed that the sounds of Lennon and McCarthy (even immortalized in his world) weren't too bothersome. By time the karaoke started, the sounds of "All You Need is Love" and "Can't Buy Me Love" would be ushered out of the bar and replaced by singing voices.

"Hey, Setsuna, you should try to join in on things tonight," he called over to the younger Meister. "I doubt anyone would mind if you're a little slow on cleaning up here!" He doubted Setsuna would bite, but there might be enough people there to make him. He continued smiling as he walked along the bar to give another shot of whisky to one of the regulars and then glanced toward the door expectantly.