[ A sweet enough response. As for the other things Sunday said — Caelus laughs good-naturedly at the jab to his loneliness, shaking his head as though it's never bothered him at all. ]
Oh, man. Should I really talk about that right now? I feel like I shouldn't, if I'm trying to be professional... You know how I get about it.
[ Well — a truly professional response wouldn't have even touched on his personal problems, but that's beside the point. Sunday asked him a question, so he feels compelled to respond.
Even though he's not following the dress code, it's true that Caelus is making some effort to be at least some kind of professional right now: if one were to follow his movements — the confident motions of his hands as he sets about taking up an impossibly clean glass and filling it with ice and the combination of different liquors and syrups that will satisfy Sunday's request — one would never have any reason to suspect that the suave, confident mixologist behind the bar had any reason at all to be up at all hours of the night, begging for validation and desire from any man who would have him.
When he stirs the mixture, he does it almost silently, without the stirring spoon hitting the sides of the glass; under his care, the cloudy mixture in the glass indeed turns into something creamy, cool, and smooth. Blue on the bottom and white on the top, like a beautiful blue sky. Some might say that Sunday himself gives off the same impression.
Caelus smiles. Slides it over to Sunday with unparalleled grace. Then he slides his hands back to his side of the counter, perfectly poised and ready to make another drink if needed. He knows perfectly well that half his job is to make drinks, but the other half is merely to entertain Sunday right now, and in whatever form that may take. ]
Here. Custom blend for you. It's light and fluffy, like a dream.
no subject
[ A sweet enough response. As for the other things Sunday said — Caelus laughs good-naturedly at the jab to his loneliness, shaking his head as though it's never bothered him at all. ]
Oh, man. Should I really talk about that right now? I feel like I shouldn't, if I'm trying to be professional... You know how I get about it.
[ Well — a truly professional response wouldn't have even touched on his personal problems, but that's beside the point. Sunday asked him a question, so he feels compelled to respond.
Even though he's not following the dress code, it's true that Caelus is making some effort to be at least some kind of professional right now: if one were to follow his movements — the confident motions of his hands as he sets about taking up an impossibly clean glass and filling it with ice and the combination of different liquors and syrups that will satisfy Sunday's request — one would never have any reason to suspect that the suave, confident mixologist behind the bar had any reason at all to be up at all hours of the night, begging for validation and desire from any man who would have him.
When he stirs the mixture, he does it almost silently, without the stirring spoon hitting the sides of the glass; under his care, the cloudy mixture in the glass indeed turns into something creamy, cool, and smooth. Blue on the bottom and white on the top, like a beautiful blue sky. Some might say that Sunday himself gives off the same impression.
Caelus smiles. Slides it over to Sunday with unparalleled grace. Then he slides his hands back to his side of the counter, perfectly poised and ready to make another drink if needed. He knows perfectly well that half his job is to make drinks, but the other half is merely to entertain Sunday right now, and in whatever form that may take. ]
Here. Custom blend for you. It's light and fluffy, like a dream.