Port Twelve

[Roleplay]

Horace let his satchel rest on the chair opposite to the one Monica took and watched her go through the list disappointed.

"Alright. A banana spring." He watched her forced smile with as straight a face he could manage, trying not to grin back. It was obvious she was not happy. "I'll ask them why they are not serving your drink anymore. We can't have a dissatisfied Monica the next time we come here. Be back in a minute."

He walked to the counter and took his place next to the old patron who may have had a strong frame at one point, yet his shoulders were slouched now and his hair was all grey. "Man..." he scoffed, "They don't make these drinks as good as before." He took a sip from his glass then made sure his sour expression full of disappointment was obvious to the bartender.

The bartender rolled his eyes and turned to Horace. "What's your poison, pilot?"

"Banana spring, and uh... do you have something more traditional, like..." he shrugged, "rum?"

"Right, we do."

"I want the whole bottle."

As if the bartender was ready for it, he walked to the back of the bar and quickly brought out the bottle. He then went on and worked to mix the drink for Monica while Horace continued, "By the way, my friend is quite disappointed with you not serving a drink she really used to enjoy here. So uh... unless you want to lose a loyal patron..."

"Noted." the bartender nodded appeasingly and handed out a couple glasses as well as Monica's drink.

This allowed the old man a new reason to complain about and while he was about to start, Horace walked back, put the drinks on the table and took his seat. He watched Monica a little silently while he allowed himself to ease up with the calm athmosphere of the bar, with only the music and the ramblings of the old man barely apparent in the background.

"Got your drink and rum. If you get disappointed with yours, I'll gladly share with you," he softly smiled.