Fantasy When Life meets Death

[mon]

When Death greets you, it's only polite to say hi.​

The hum of jazz sounds low, weaving through the voices of mindless chatters and clinking glasses. Underneath the bar's warm glow, dim lights reflect off colored bottles, casting shadows for reticent patrons to exist, ever the silent as they nurse their liquor to their lips. The lack of light does not stop wandering eyes to sneak hungry glances at the Dancing Lady's main attraction. While the live jazz band, both popular in name and reputation, has garnered most of the bar's customers, it was the ever enigmatic bartender which stood at the cusp of it all.

Gentle, knowing smiles and deft fingers made quick work to welcome. The drinks he served were superb, unrelated to the emotions attached when dark eyes locked on willing victims. If he's aware of their attraction, he makes no sign of it. This has always been the way Jan worked, the way he operated. Tonight is no different.

The Dancing Lady was usually lively from 8 PM onwards. It was 10 now and the male had started his shift two hours earlier, finding sleep futile. The scent of alcohol was almost sweet when masked by the many who visit. He lets his gaze wander the room once, the familiar sight like a soothing balm on the restless soul. He exhales in a breath of almost-relief, recognizing most of the people in his vicinity.

Yes, tonight was no different.

Until Life proved him wrong.

 

[astrid]

The breeze on the outside was crisp, nipping her skin through the thin material of her cardigan, so upon pushing open the door to the Dancing Lady, Ann welcomed the sedative-like warmth that enveloped her as she stepped through the doors of the lively bar. She had only ever spared this pub a few glances everyday on the way back from work, the music that managed to escape through the door, although inviting, was evidently no match for the fatigue that usually plagued her limbs after her long shifts at the diner.

The buzz of the small chatter in each corner of the room and the sultry jazz that was being played soothed her rampant mind, almost serving as a shield between her thoughts that she would usually find herself succumbing to by this time. For the brief moment she stood at the door, absorbing the unfamiliar environment, she allowed herself to be engulfed in the animated aura the space itself emitted, noting the stark differences Bentley's Pub (a bar that she often found herself frequenting on days mirroring this one) had in comparison to this one. For one, Bentley's Pub wasn't nearly as popular, as it was a place where people refrained from socializing or bringing anyone to do so, it allowed for people such as Ann to reacquaint herself with silence and her thoughts without the judgement of prying eyes, only a few souls populated the bar late at night that wished to do the same as her. But alas, the solitary abyss she had kept for herself could only stay afloat for so long, and it did not shock her to see the 'for sale' sign plastered on the window just days ago.

Moving from where she was previously standing, Ann made her way to the bar, sinking back into the routine she had been so accustomed to on nights like these. She seated herself atop a chestnut stool that sat in front of the table where the bartender's station resided at. Ann's eyes scanned the length of the bar to flag down the individual who was currently attending to the station. It seemed that the action was unnecessary to do as she locked eyes with the man who stood on the opposite side of the table, his gaze intently set on her.

A wave of familiarity flooded Ann's being as she looked at the male, the pupils of her light brown eyes dilating as she sat entranced in the green orbs that stared back. Ann had prided herself in being good with identifying the faces that she's come across, and although it had seemed that his presence had brought forth a sense of familiarity, she couldn't recall ever meeting this man. Blinking, she transfixed her gaze on the wall behind him in an attempt to dissolve the intensity of the moment before clearing her throat. “Can I get a drink?” She projected her voice just loud enough for him to hear above the chatter behind them.

 

[mon]

When Death greets you, it's only polite to say hi.​

Something shatters when he meets her. Loud, violent, a collision of sorts. A clashing of cymbals which has him at a loss, if not only for a second. His face breaks composure and his sudden stiffness alerts his peers from behind him.

And then, it is gone. Replaced again with his usual, handsome melancholy. Eyes soften, the brown in his grassy hues melt as he makes his way over. A handkerchief dries his hand as he asks the lady what she wants. It's scary, he thinks. He knows what he wants.

He's met her before. Or maybe he hasn't. His memory is hazy, like blurred street lights against unfocused frames, but he recalls this warmth with familiarity. The sense of nostalgia is not lost on him as he studies her, comparing her to the patrons around her. The difference is stark and like a moth to a flame, Jan sees how souls flock towards her. Sees how death refuses to touch her, flickering instead like shadow molded by light.

He's as fascinated as he was surprised, as surprised as he was confused, as confused as he was hopeful. How could this be? Does his powers have no hold on her, he wondered, wanting to reach out. Wanting to test.

He doesn't, of course. Maintaining self-control, keeping boundaries. He would have to start slow. And so, for the first time in months, years, Jan speaks up.

"The drink's on me."

The eyes of regulars widen. His co-workers all but gasp silently, heads whipping in his direction. He chooses not to answer their glaringly loud, unspoken questions, choosing instead to keep his eyes trained on the hazel before him.

 

[astrid]

As the handsome male steadily made his way over to Ann, she was able to to see his face more clearly, taking note of the prominent deep grassy hue of his irises framed by dark eye bags, tell-tale signs of exhaustion. His towering frame loomed over her, his presence almost mimicking dark cloud. The profound sense of familiarity aided in the underlying feeling of comfort she found in his presence. It was an inexplicable allure of sorts, as she could not decipher the erratic beating of her heart as he stood in front of her. A terrifying feeling it was, Ann thought, as she found herself in a momentary state of vulnerability because of a man who she could not recall.

She took a moment before replying, "I'll take an old-fashioned whiskey." Although it wasn't a very feminine drink (as her make it a point to remind her), she favored the slight sweetness of the drink as it was not as harsh as drinking the whiskey bare. It was enough to be used as a social lubricant when in situations such as this.

She blinked upon registering his statement, her brows raising at the forward announcement. Wiping the startled look off her face, she replaced it with a slight tug of her lips, “I- uh, well, thank you,” Ann’s hesitancy was fueled by the immediate reaction from the people around them, sparing all but a glance to his fellow coworkers as they cast their unwavering stares upon the both them, the look of bafflement in their blatant expressions. Perhaps she said something wrong? “If it isn’t too much trouble, of course.” She added quickly,

​

 

[mon]

When Death greets you, it's only polite to say hi.​

A shake of his head is the response given to her question, but his small smile answers volumes, reassuring that it was his pleasure. He leaves as quickly as he comes. Efficient in his work, deft hands a blur. Fortunately, whiskey doesn't require much work but the bottle is found at one end of the bar counter, giving his co-worker---Daniel---the time to lean in.

"Do you two know each other, miss?" he asks, casual and light. A thumb jabs in Jan's direction; he pretends not to notice.

Before the lady could reply, Jan is back and a glass of whiskey is set before her. Daniel grins cheekily, slinging an arm around Jan's neck. A feat, really, considering Jan's looming height. He bends his knees a bit so that Daniel is balanced and raises a brow in question.

"Look at you, breaking bar rules for once," Daniel teases, boldly speaking in front of their patrons. He's guilty of it far more than Jan and the other tenders keep quiet, staring in silent judgment. Jan chooses to roll his eyes. The arm around him is shrugged off coolly and still he says nothing.