Ace is bored.
Derek promised him they would be heading out for the grand opening at the club,
The Pump, but that was FIVE HOURS ago--and the man hasn't left the poker table since.
Ace has been doing laps around the casino floor for the last two hours, but nothing interests him. He decides to wander down one of the hallways just off the floor and peaks through the door of a small bar.
The circular bar is nearly empty, only a handful of patrons fill its 10 chairs. The bar's top is made of glass and gleaming metal accents cut in an art deco style. Uplit with soft golden shadows against the black tile floor, its surfaces are accentuated by sharp angles in red and blue, giving it the illusion of twirling in mid air. His first thought? It looked like something they claim crashed in Roswell 60 years ago.
At least it was a place to sit down, get a drink… and it had some music. Ace approaches the bar--and immediately revises his first thought. It looks like he might have wandered into an episode of Star Trek. Standing on a slim metal base in front of each one of the chairs circling the bar is a glass serving tray that just needs a few flashing lights and turning dials and it looks ready for take off.
Ace slides into an open seat and one of the two bartenders on duty comes over to greet him. He requests a Bacardi and coke, and the bartender shakes his head.
"No Bacardi here, you’ll have to go over to the casino bar for that drink." Ace rolls his eyes.
"Huh? What the hell-- isn’t that like saying, sorry no Jack Daniels?" While he is contemplating his options, the woman sitting in the chair next to him turns from her companion.
"You drink Bacardi and coke? So do I."Ace rolls his eyes again, thinking--- Ahhh... Oh really! So do a zillion other people, duh. But he refrains from adding that comment and instead replies.
"Apparently, not at this particular bar." The woman laughs, holding up her martini glass containing a lime green foo-foo drink.
"In that, you are correct."Ace isn't interested in a green lime thingy or anything else, except rum. So he asks the bartender what kind of rum DOES he have. Reaching under the counter, the bartender pulls out a stout, roundish bottle with a gold leaf label.
"Barbancourt Reserve" Ace turns to the woman next to him.
"Ever heard of it?" She admits that she has not. But then quickly adds.
"Should we try it?" Ace figures, why not.
The bartender smiles, filling two new glasses with ice and pouring a particularly generous serving of that wicked brew.
Heavier than Bacardi with a slight licorice aftertaste, it does a fine job of disguising its potency.Ace signs off on their drink order, charging it to Derek's room. Jesus Christ, $15 a pop! He hopes Derek doesn't mind.
The pair make a rum toast, before Ace leans in to ask.
"What is that incredible smell?" His smile is sincere and his eyes are holding the woman's with a look of keen interest...
"Morgan." The woman replies laughing.
"A scent that is truly my own."Ace laughs, as well. He likes the sound of her laugh. Hardy and heartfelt, just like his. The twinkle of mischief in her eyes belies her reserved manner, and he decides to stay a few moments to find out if there is indeed a wit beneath to match.
Morgan introduces herself, again, and also her friend. They are on the start of a bar crawl celebrating Morgan's birthday. Ace tells the woman he arrived earlier today from Chicago for the poker tournament at this hotel--the start of which is now a little over 12 hours away.
Morgan is busy listening to Ace's adventures at the casinos, bars and restaurants earlier that day, and she absentmindedly places her small handbag on the glass tray in front of her before moving to set her drink down on the bar…
.. and it promptly slides off, shattering at Ace's feet.
"What the hell?" The woman screams.
"I only had one so far, honest!" The illusion of a flat bar surface is only that. The bar is ever so slightly curved. The bartender just shrugs his shoulders (happens all the time) as he deftly refills her drink.
(If fact, it happens to at least 4 other unsuspecting guests just while Ace is sitting there.) "Shit." The woman swears. "Now I smell like a rum drunk." Ace is laughing again. (It splashed him, too.) The woman giggles, smiles, and holds up her fresh glass.
Ace clinks his own against it. Still laughing, he leans in and offers another toast.
"Here’s to holding your liquor." ;D