Garret Winshall's Story

Garret sits on a stool in the bar with a glass of water. As usual he is wearing a fine shirt colored black with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jeans are tight but stretchy and his shoes supports his legs at the metal rail underneath the round stool. It's raining after the last sunbeams disappeared behind the assembling clouds in the sky. He sighs and waves off a refill from the bored bartender without giving eye contact. The bartender gives the young man an annoyed glance for not buying anything. The room contains only the two and an old man reading the newspaper by the tables further in. An empty plate of omelet placed on the table.

"I think that clock is moving too slow..." Garret points out friendly. But the Bartender takes it as an annoyance and wipes a glass clean while glancing at the clock and back to the water drinking customer.
Garret quickly puts his sight back into his empty glass realizing the man wants him to mind his own business.
The grumpy man starts to clean the bottles in the liquor cabin. Garret sighs.

The weather was not to be escaped, if anything it was following her, demanding to ruin her hair and soak her clothes. Instead of running, Emma had given herself over to mother earth and walked the foreign streets with a sour look on her face. She wasn’t even sure where she was going anymore, all she could see was boring shops with boring cloths and fancy products.

Suddenly her eyes were met by the warmth of golden hues and aged wood. Her nose picking up scents of whisky and tobacco. She opened the old rustic looking door and let out a content sight as she escaped the rain. She took off her drenched coat and walked determined over to the old scruffy looking bar with the more scruffy looking bartender, leaving puddles behind her.


“ I will have the cheapest whiskey you have.” The words left Emma’s mouth as fast as her butt met the seat. Not sensing anyone around her she rests her elbows on the counter and reaches for the bowl of peanuts.

Gary's mood rose at the new customer and placed the glass he'd been cleaning on the shelf to make ready the ordered drink. Garret lifted his brown eyes at the woman and straightened his back feeling a little embarrassed by his simple glass of water. Looking away, Garret hesitated to contact the grumpy bartender and let his gaze wander past him to the old man further down in the bar.
Gary the grumpy bartender scowled suspiciously at the young misplaced man as he poured the whiskey; if he wasn't going to drink, why was he there? He'd been there too long to be waiting for somebody.

Emma tipped her glass and smiled at the bartender before taking a sip. The whiskey burned wonderfully down her throat and she could feel the warmth returning to her fingers. She pulled the chair beside her closer to place her jacket and scarf on. As her gaze returned back up to the bar she spotted tall dark haired man sitting at the other end. Not wanting risk social contact she quickly found her whiskey and took another big sip.

Gary leaned forward so the wooden bar creaked, staring at Garret expectantly. Garret leaned backwards and blinked. "Erm- what she took," he said softly and jerked his head towards the new entered woman. Gary held back a grunt at the insecure man who the grumpy bartender would have thrown out long ago had he not been to grumpy to do so. He'd gone into a depressive state after his bar had gone from a merry brawling bar to an occational shelter for even more depressed customers.

The empty glass hitting the counter rang across the room and not a second behind Emma waved her hands at the bartender. “Another one, double and no skimping on liquor.” Her finger was pointed towards the bartender acquiescingly but her face was covered with a huge grin.

The woman caught both of the men's attention, but only Garret's brows lifted. The man coughed out a laugh as his lungs were rather rusty at the skill, and let the grudge against the young man step aside while grasping the whiskey bottle to pour her empty glass full again. Garret grimaced at the glass sliding towards him after the man had made one for him as well. The tender man's nose stung at the strong smell seeping from the glass. Garret had never tasted whiskey before and actually missed the gangster gang who only forced him to drink bright liquor and teasingly threaten him with drugs. He swallowed and leaned tryingly forward while studying the bright brown drink skeptically. Gary placed the whiskey bottle between the two customers and leaned forward on the desk speaking with a rusty voice; "So where does your sad stories start, ey?" With a twinkle in his eye above the grey stubble he awaited the woman's answer.


(Ooc: Aah e får ikke tagga bartender Gary av en eller anna rar grunn)

Emma raised a brow. “Is this the part where I tell you about the dad that was never there and the mother who never loved me?” She grinned at him. “Surely you have heard enough about those.” The glass was fondled between her hands while she looked down at the brown liquid. “Have to disappoint you Mr. Bartender, my folks are alive and well and couldn’t be prouder of their darling girl.” She took another sip. True, her folks were proud and all, but she couldn’t say the same about them. Imminently jumping off that train of thought she looked at the man beside her. Either he was a whiskey lover au superb or he was having a hard time with the liquor. “It helps swallowing it fast I heard, I’m sure the bartender will agree with the pace?” She refilled her glass and kept watching him from the corner of her eye.

With his snout closer to the drink, Garret started speaking; "It smells like rotten chlorine or som-" Realizing a possible insult towards the bartender on his opinion, he pressed his lips together and lifted a pair of apologizing eyes at the man. Gary had found the woman interesting and something out of the ordinary. He shifted to lean on the counter more comfortably as he was to reply to the lady, but at the young man's remark, Gary the grumpy bartender shot him a glare. It made the blue eyed man grab the glass not to annoy the bartender further and hid his gaze in it. The grumpy bartender shook his head and turned back to the woman; "I haven't seen you around here. Where'd ya come from, miss...? It's been empty for quite some time and only old men coming for supper or street rats from the ditch." Garret frowned while giving the bartender a pout as he didn't think he fit neither of those categories.

Emma held back a laugh as she saw the young man’s reaction to back handed insult. “ Emma.” The reply was short and precise, like a well-rehearsed reaction. “ I just moved from a small place up north, not that you can hear it on the accent though.” She turned her head around and studied the bartender. He looked tired and grumpy, like a man who had watched something he loved die. How a contrast he was against the young man two seats from her. A faint thought along the lines of “I’d still hit that” ran almost unnoticed, and once again Emma drank from her glass. Feeling the warm fuzzy feeling of the alcohol melting her normaly sharp edges she straightened her back and looked at the men. “So, he is kept here by work, me by the whiskey, which tasted very good by the by way.” She winked at the bartender and pointed towards the young man across her. “ And you by .. Whatever your thing is, you might as well tell me your names. “

Garret had kept his gaze low all the while and his demeanor hunched slightly as the woman directed the attention towards him, but as the bartender was also sharing his stage, he let him do the talking first by staying silent. Gary jerked his head approvingly at the nice comment and straightened his back feeling twenty years younger. "Name's Gary," his rusty voice sounded proudly, and he cleared it hoping it would sound younger and brighter next time speaking. Garret's shoulders tensed and speaking subtly he answered; "Garret," giving the woman a friendly weak smile underneath timid blue eyes. "So whiskey is the drink, huh?" he added awkwardly, only noticing his wavering voice when it was too late. He didn't think Emma seemed bad or dangerous, it was Gary who made such an impact on him. The accusing glare of the man was like a shadow creeping over him, and he'd rather look at Emma than him.

Emma sat back and studied them both for a moment. While the contrast was clear, they had a thing in common, they were both oddballs. The tension in her shoulders where all gone now, but if it was from the whiskey or low standards of social behavior set by the two, she wasn’t sure. She studied the glass in her hand before responding to Garret. “It is warm, as so few things are in life.” Her hand rested on the top of her heart and she looked solemnly at the floor . The dramatical flair didn’t stick long however as she turned towards the bartender, again with a huge grin on her face. “Depressing enough this time Gary?”

"There are many warm things in life;" Garret said suddenly, disrupting the bartender, as if the woman had hit something within him, and he stared at her while continuing with a brave sense of knowledge; "The sun for instance...and the hot cup of chocolate you receive from an old lady while you're wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket and the rain is pouring outside, but you know the sun will rise and present to you the most splendid rainbow you'll ever see, and if the old lady's not there you just imagine it, because- face it: receiving things from old ladies are far more warmer than anything else." His words were firm with a warm meaning, and his eyes never averted hers. His clear sight of what warm things could be dulled Gary's scowl, and even the grumpy bartender was taken aback at the silent man's sudden outburst. The images the young man gave him- remembering back to his own caring mother- and wife, Gary had to clear his throat and turn his back as he seemed to have gotten something in his eye. All Gary had to this day was the warm purr of his cat back home, and he had still three more hours of work.
Garret's speech continued as he wanted to make sure he'd given his best to brighten the seemingly depressed woman; "What also is warm is that random smile you receive from a stranger who actually doesn't know your inner striving, but he decides to give you that random smile because the simple humanity is warm deep inside, and only that is reason enough to have faith in the cold world to turn warm, and even though hope seems lost...there will always be that someone who greets you whether it's the old woman by the coffee shop wishing you a good day with her old creaky soft voice or the next door neighbor giving you the mail just in time as you walk in." The man took a deep breath, hoping the woman would not end up as a sad alcoholic ditch corpse. Noticing he'd tried maybe a little too hard, and perhaps given the speech more to himself than her, he blushed and wanted to run away. However he meant it and stood his ground, hoping the woman would be gentle.

Emma starred at him. There was not many things that could shock her, with the exception of people who don’t like chocolate and now blushing man before her and his somewhat passionate awkward speech. She wasn’t quite sure how to react, normally she would laugh in the face of anyone who talked about rainbows, the goodness of humanity and everlasting hope and belief in kind old ladies. She looked at Gary hoping for a grunt, rolling of eyeballs or anything making it easier to dismiss the speech entirely, but the old man had suddenly decided to show his soft side. As the shock passed she felt an anger rising in her. What a pompous frilly naïve smooth baby butt faced twat. Her face was stone cold now, she knew it was and her eyes which the whiskey had warmed were now as cold as when she first arrived. She lifted her head looking dead straight at Garret. “You may have to fixate on your granny fetish to get through the day, but don’t pull others into your sick fairytale daydream. “ She snorted while refilling her glass. She wasn’t sure why he angered her so, she meet dozen like him, but this one.. She glared at him again.. This one was exceptionally annoying.

Garret's brows frowned deeper in worry and he bit his lip, feeling dizzy at how much he'd embarrassed himself. Looking down and turning away unable to speak, he grabbed the glass of whiskey and poured his mouth full. The polite man wanted to finish his drink quickly before leaving. Feeling the burning sensation damp up his nose, he swallowed quickly as spitting it out was out of the question. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together while desperately coping with the uncomfortable unfamiliar sensation, and his hands automatically grabbed the edge of the table to keep him perfectly quiet, not wanting to make a scene.

Gary had snorted and laughed silently at the woman's comment, but didn't turn as he'd busied himself in the shelf with glass and liquor.