Open Bar Post for the duration of the event

[luckynumberthree]

Who: Anyone!
Where: The temporarily-relocated bar, now in a 1st floor tea room until the fifth floor becomes inhabitable again.
When: The duration of the event
Rating: ???
Summary: With the fifth floor being overrun by Silent Hill shenanigans and weird unfortunate afflictions, the bar staff has temporarily relocated to the first floor until they can return upstairs. Unfortunately, they're still cursed by the unfortunate truth-telling side effects. Drink and Tell at your own risk.

The Story:
The bar has weathered a lot of events in Wonderland, and will no doubt weather a lot more, but between the recent string of murders (Thanks, Dean Winchester) and the current vivid atmosphere on the fifth floor, everyone had agreed that finding somewhere a little less terrifying to get drunk was a requirement until things got sorted and back to normal.

Of course, moving locales doesn't seem to free them from the new geas of truth-telling that's seemed to invade anywhere in the mansion that nourishment is offered. That's not enough for them to close their doors, though. In fact, Simon's all for this, because he thinks it could provide some pretty amusing interesting revelations. And as he is the one most visible in the bar for the next few days, he could use some of that. Jo's still recovering from her attack and he might still be over-protectively fussing just a little.

He's his typical welcoming self to anyone who wanders in for some alcohol, however, always ready with a drink and likely some inappropriate humor. Delve into deep truths at your own risk, however.

Comments

[oversight]

"Doesn't scare me a bit," he says, a smirk playing on his lips. He hadn't heard the bar was under Wonderland's spell, but it makes sense when he considers the other rooms afflicted with the same enchantment.

He rubs a hand at his cheek and winces a little. "Been better, y'know. Been worse, too. Guess by way of the usual Wonderland surprises, this one's... less surprisin'. For the most part," John adds, because the weird memory issues do still pack a punch in of themselves. There are more than a few questions attached to the weird feelings of being disconnected he's experienced for a couple days.

"That bein' said, I'm feelin' a shot of somethin'. Whiskey?"

[therapize]

“Now that sounds like a challenge.” Oh Blake. Be glad that Cami is the good-natured person she is, able and willing to leave the temptation to test his bravado as just that: a temptation. It still gets a grin out of her though; it must be nice to live a life unafraid of people finding out the secrets kept hidden away. Even Cami, who considers herself fairly open, has truths she would rather not tell to the world.

“You’re used to having your memories swapped out for someone else’s? Because you know, I’ve actually had mine altered before, and this is still pretty shocking to me.” Case in point. Cami winces, not having meant to reveal quite so much, even if the point stands. The implication that such alterations to their very beings happen often is never going to settle well with her. That Blake can be so cavalier about it—well, it’s not making her feel optimistic.

At least the drink is easy enough. One shot glass, one practiced pour, and Cami pushes the shot over toward him, keeping the bottle out for easy refills.

[oversight]

"Just here," he clarifies, entirely unaware of Cami's benevolent nature. But being truthful here — who has a choice otherwise? — John feels pretty safe because most people aren't going to out-right ask him if he's the goddamn Batman. Especially anyone that spends any amount of time studying his short, thin frame and pleasant features.

With a thankful nod, he takes up the shot and tosses it back. It's smoother than he guessed it would be, so no problem there, but generally speaking he's something of a lightweight when it comes to hard liquor.

"Not always swappin', I guess — prob'ly not like you're thinkin'. Like— Well, the last time it was in dreams. We shared stuff in our dreams without realizin' it was happenin'." He turns his glass around on the bar top. "So I ended up showin' my boyfriend the memory of my dad bein' murdered. Stuff like that bothers the shit outta me." Not because he wouldn't share the story with Crowley, but it's almost too intensely private to replicate a person's actual vision of an incident like that; John would have preferred to explain it with carefully chosen words instead.

[therapize]

Magic closet means really good booze. After all, what’s the point of wishing for the cheap stuff when there’s no budget to worry about? He gets the first shot down and Cami wastes no time pouring him another; Blake’s free to stop her if he wants, but she gets the feeling he might appreciate a generous bartender more.

At least until that lightweight nature of his shows.

“Oh wow. I’m really sorry.” Less for the dream-sharing, however. Cami’s hardly close to her own parents—it’s almost like they’re dead to her for all she's been on her own—but she’s lost family, and that pain is never easy. Then in turn, to be forced to share such a traumatic memory with someone else; there’s little that can be said to be good about it, and Cami slowly shakes her head.

“I guess the only thing that might conceivably make this worse is the fact that this directly alters our sense of self. I mean, our experiences are so much of what make us who we are.” She leans against the bar, offering Blake a small grin. “And that got really dark, really quickly.”

[oversight]

He laughs and shakes his head, oddly at ease and strangely conversational when under the affects of Wonderland's truth game. If it was someone he knew well he'd probably be a little more wary, but Cami seems harmless enough.

"Dark doesn't bother me either," he assures. Even if it's a little dour, it's true and Blake wouldn't deny that fact, not the validity of her claim.

With a thankful nod, he slides the drink closer but doesn't bother taking a drink yet. Instead, he offers his hand over the bar. "John Blake. Pretty sure we haven't met. Don't exactly come by the bar all that often." Not for lack of want, but there are... issues there that he doesn't bother mentioning (but can't really avoid if asked).

[therapize]

"You know, that's kind of a shame? People shouldn't have to get used to things like that in random conversation." But even if he doesn't come from a world that encourages it, Cami's certainly aware that Wonderland does. Every other week or so, they get the joy of having their minds messed with, their ideas of reality altered. She hated it when Klaus had done something so similar back home, and that had just been a single man. This seems to be an entire universe designed for that very purpose, which makes it increasingly difficult to maintain any sort of positive outlook.

But Cami tries, because like experience, beliefs are also part of a person's essential being. So when Blake offers his hand she's quick to take it, still smiling just as they touch.

"Cami O'Connell, and we haven't. But don't worry; I won't hold it against you."

[oversight]

"Pleasure to meet you, Cami," he says amiably, his hand gripping hers firmly before returning to his glass. Part of the reason he's still here is all due to his generally positive outlook and his refusal to give up on people. It's the whole reason he's still close to Crowley, who he could have easily discarded if he would have believed a person can't change.

"You been in Wonderland a while?" He doesn't bothering opening with the number he has tucked away in the back of his mind, but after all this time, it's hard not to want to share how the months have turned into years. In a way, it's like a gold member status without all of the perks.

[therapize]

“Since November.” She’ll leave it to Blake to decide just how new that still makes her. Honestly, Cami doesn’t want to think of it in terms of then to now, count the months and days and figure out how much time has passed without her quite realizing it. Of course the day will come when that happens anyway, but it hasn’t yet, and that’s good enough. “I went from being a—“ cop-turned-psych-major, she nearly says, but Cami has to remind herself that it isn’t true. The fact that the room lets her stop helps that hold, no matter what the memory rattling around in her head might make her think to the contrary.

“A bartender in New Orleans to a bartender in Wonderland. So what about you?’

[oversight]

It's only recently that John stopped counting, and even then, it wouldn't take him long to do the numbers. Near as he figures on the fly it's something like twenty-eight months. Almost makes a guy forget about life like it used to be.

"Ah, non-profit," he says, although he doesn't ever leave it at that. "Was a cop before that, but I— I got out of it, got into workin' with kids." His head dips and he looks down at the drink on front of him. Interesting how life works, isn't it? When he was a teen, he never would have expected this kind of outcome.

He sighs, lifts his glass and then looks at Cami. "Also, I'm Batman. In training." It's not something he should reveal, but he can't exactly stop himself. And recently he's wondered if he should because it hardly seems to matter who he is when you consider the multitudes of powerful beings that surround them every day.