A few of the patrons eyed Luca warily. No one gave him any trouble, but they seemed uncomfortable with him there. Most, however, seemed to prefer to act like he wasn't there at all, focused on their drinks or their company instead. A woman who had been sitting at the bar seemed more uncomfortable than most. She got up a little too fast and relocated to the completely opposite side of the cramped space. Her profession wasn't exactly one the church approved of.
The man Crawford was yelling at muttered something incoherent into his empty glass, before pushing it toward the bartender. Crawford didn't move, staring at him, letting out a hard breath, but the drunk man just stared at his glass like it would fill itself. Crawford then turned his head toward a man sitting in the shadows where the bar met the wall. The man was roughly the size and weight of a refrigerator. Crawford just jerked his head at the man, and the problem took care of itself. The fridge man lifted the drunk man as if he weighed no more than a bundle of grapes, and shoved him out the door.
Only then did Crawford slide his gaze to Luca. If he was surprised to see the man, he didn't show it. "Welcome to the real world, Padre," he said, standing into his customary slouch. "Fraid all we got for the likes of you to drink is water."
Luca smiled at the other customers pleasantly but today he wasn't here to do the lord's work, he was here to meet the redhead from earlier. He wasn't sure what good he could do here, but he had been invited, so here he was.
His smile widened when he was noticed by the familiar bartender and Luca took a seat by the bar counter. The woman who left with hurry also got a smile from him, no judgement here.
"No tea?" he asked. Usually you could get a cup of tea in any establishment in Britain. Perhaps not in this one. "Thank you," he said as if it had been a genuine welcome.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deo_volente) wrote2017-03-17 11:08 pm
no subject
The man Crawford was yelling at muttered something incoherent into his empty glass, before pushing it toward the bartender. Crawford didn't move, staring at him, letting out a hard breath, but the drunk man just stared at his glass like it would fill itself. Crawford then turned his head toward a man sitting in the shadows where the bar met the wall. The man was roughly the size and weight of a refrigerator. Crawford just jerked his head at the man, and the problem took care of itself. The fridge man lifted the drunk man as if he weighed no more than a bundle of grapes, and shoved him out the door.
Only then did Crawford slide his gaze to Luca. If he was surprised to see the man, he didn't show it. "Welcome to the real world, Padre," he said, standing into his customary slouch. "Fraid all we got for the likes of you to drink is water."
no subject
His smile widened when he was noticed by the familiar bartender and Luca took a seat by the bar counter. The woman who left with hurry also got a smile from him, no judgement here.
"No tea?" he asked. Usually you could get a cup of tea in any establishment in Britain. Perhaps not in this one. "Thank you," he said as if it had been a genuine welcome.