[Atoli01]

Really, couldn't they stop giving me shit about, "Oh, look at all the starving people!" and, "Oh, what are you going to do about all the criminals?!" Did it look like I was the ruler of their damned country? Sorry guys, it's something you sort of have to take up with dad. Maybe if you would keep people away from the damned alcohol and keep the prostitutes off the streets things may get a bit better. You have to work with me here, yeah?

Well maybe not the alcohol part. They would make an exception for me, right? Of course they would. Heads would go flying if they didn't after all. Find them somewhere where, anatomically, they shouldn't quite be.

People's eyes naturally found their way toward my direction, whether it was a conscious decision or not. I knew that. Did I care though? Not quite. Taking my position out of the equation for a moment, it wasn't very surprising that a nicely dressed man would draw attention. Becoming accustomed to the attention was something packaged in with being the demon king's son. Like hell I would wear commoner rags to prevent that. Not like it would do any good, anyhow.

Several nice, cold glasses of wine was what I was in the mood for however, and it was what I was certainly going to bask in the glory of. You could tell who was sober. No, it wasn't by their smell or attitude--because regardless of the age or gender, all the drunkards were essentially the same--but by whose eyes were glued onto mine. Hatred and tension ran so thick through some of those stares that hell, it was enough to slice through with a knife. The bartenders had come to adore me though. I was greeted by those ever familiar waves as my boots made those soft, yet authoritative clicking sounds against those old wood floorboards.

I took priority. I always did. I liked them though. I had no problem waiting until one directed their attention toward me. Just a waiting game, yeah?

[Flame]

It was a typical, busy night at the local bar, the patrons plentiful and the nectar which drew them flowing even more so. Customers of all walks of life (and varying levels of sobriety) were scattered generously throughout the establishment, and the atmosphere was warm and welcoming, the buzz of people and dim lighting drawing passersby on the street like moths to a flame. The only really well-lit part of the room was the bar – a fusion of modern steel and traditional woodwork, it was an elegant work of art which advertised both a certain level of chic as well as retaining the comforting familiarity of a deep mahogany wooden top, polished to a shine by the years of constant use.

For the most part, the clientele tonight was the usual – after all, faces came to be familiar in a business like this, some more so than others. Reputations mattered in a place like this, where men and women went to slough off the worries of the day, or perhaps drown their sorrows in something a little stronger. The bartender was a sturdy-looking man, stocky, and clearly not new to the business. He’d been running this pub for decades now, and in that time, he’d become very familiar with the ways of people, both sober and drunk. Normally he could be found behind his counter, and when he wasn’t serving his customers, he was usually spending his time polishing glasses and keeping a discreet but close eye on the on-goings.

However, it seemed that tonight, something indeed was a little different about the atmosphere. People seemed more excited, the murmur of background noise louder than usual, and there was considerable attention drawn to the bar (more than just the standard drink order traffic). The object of this disturbance was quite clear upon first glance, for the brighter lights of the bar itself fell upon a brighter color palette than usual. It was impossible for any eye to ignore the bright, vivid splash of blue behind the counter, and upon closer inspection, it resolved itself as none other than a young woman, perhaps in her early 20s. Her long, wavy hair was the shade of blue of the clear ocean, reflections from the curls dancing like light on the water. She wore an outfit of a darker shade, an elegant, form-fitting dress which flowed like water around her and gleamed in the light. It was clear that it was she who’d caught the attention of the men now crowded around the bar, not only due to her strange appearance, but also simply because she was a new face in this town. Currently, she had a handle of rum in one hand, and appeared to be in the process of making some elaborate drink at the bar. Of course, this was all happening under the close supervision of the bartender himself, but it seemed that this was an activity which he’d condoned, and he was indeed giving her tips while she poured and he watched on. He couldn’t complain about her – after all, she was bringing good business to the bar, and it wasn’t often that the people here got to see something – or someone – as new or interesting as her.

As for the woman, she seemed fascinated with her current endeavor, and indeed seemed to be picking up on it with impressive alacrity. In truth, it was the people here in their copious variety and flavors that had drawn Amphitrite here in the first place. People intrigued her, and she’d simply followed the steady stream of people making their way into the bar. Before she knew it though, she’d found herself behind the bar after voicing her interest in the new (at least to her) art of drink-mixing and much ushering and encouragement provided by the men around her. The group around the bar was so intensely fixated on this ‘show’ that most of them didn’t notice the atmosphere in the room shift just slightly. This heralded the entrance of yet another bar regular, and although it took him a moment, the bartender didn’t miss the arrival of none other than the prince himself. Glancing up at him, he offered a familiar nod of acknowledgement, a faint smile playing on his face. The prince was always a well-paying customer, even if the rest of the clientele didn’t much care for him. That was no reason for sub-par service though, and he quickly came to the man’s service. “What can I do for you tonight, sir?” he asked, although he continued to hover by Amphitrite, keeping a careful eye on her progress and more importantly, the behavior of the men surrounding her (which she seemed to be surprisingly indifferent towards or perhaps ignorant of).

[Atoli01]

"I suppose I'll stray from my usual tonight, sir, and take a nice little glass of white wine." The words flew out of my mouth, as if I were reciting a well-known script, the moment that the familiar, aged man had directed all his attention in my direction. "A man must retain some class, yes yes? A reputation as a drunkard--despite the fact that I am far from such--would fail to spell anything good for my fate." Surely, I'd be burned on a stake and declared a witch by the half-brained imbeciles of the town if I had even one drink too many.

Now, on most days, I'd permit myself the freedom to let my wandering eyes feast upon the bar's more... physically appealing clientele. Of course, it was never the women who frequented the place that caught my eye. No, those patrons had either already lost all shine and luster in my eyes or simply ceased coming here (which, as I had found out only weeks prior, could be attributed to my lack of emotional care for them nine times out of ten). Tonight, however, was different. The feeling was hanging heavy in the air, and I was certain that every lusting man (and in some cases, woman) was responsive to it.

"Pretty lady! Why don't you come talk to me for a minute?" I called to the blue-haired femme fatale busying herself behind the counter. Yes, certainly she was the source, the root of the bar's unusually excessive gabble. With just a short, quick flick of the wrist, I sent away the seasoned bartender. The appearance of a new girl was a rare sight. A new girl who could compare to almost no other woman I had been with? Now that was another thing entirely. It was if she was radiating, glowing, sparkling under the gaze of bar's lust-driven and alcohol induced patrons.

And that was only what could be sensed from her profile.

[Flame]

“Certainly, sir,” the barkeep replied when the gentleman had made his order. It wasn’t often that wine was requested; after all, it was a drink and mixer he found to be more heavily favored by women – at least before they’d all been scared off – and those who still remained generally preferred to partake in the ‘harder stuff’. However, he took great pride in catering to his customers and having whatever they so desired in stock, hence the wine cooler behind the bar from which he removed a bottle of Sauvignon. In a fluid, practiced motion, he swept a long-stemmed wine glass from the rack overhead, and opening the bottle with an authoritative pop, proceeded to pour a healthy dose of the crisp, dry nectar.

As he did so, he kept a close eye on the girl, who was clearly still quite amused by her current task (as were the rest of the small audience she had attracted). There was something…different about this one. He’d seen a lot of men and women in his time here – if you wanted to get to know people from all around the world and all walks of life, a bar was the place to do it. There, false pretenses sloughed away with every drink, and true colors began to shine through. Something about this woman felt…unfamiliar though. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but his instincts told him that she wasn’t just any ordinary pretty little passer through. However, regardless of that fact, from the hour or two that he’d spent in her company, he’d found himself growing to be quite fond of her. Despite her age (and not to mention a very womanly body), he’d discovered that she was actually quite a sweet creature that didn’t seem to have a mean bone in her body. Of course, that was just based on a first impression, but with his past experience, it wasn’t often that his instincts were wrong. It was just surprising, because women beyond a certain threshold of just being ‘pretty’ tended to know it and act with what seemed to be a matching level of entitlement. That seemed completely lost upon Amphitrite though, who was either oblivious to the fact, or simply took it in stride.

Glancing over at the prince as he passed the glass of wine over the bar, he noticed that same gleam in the man’s eyes that he’d seen a thousand times before. The bartender eyed him for a moment, ignoring the dismissive command he’d just received for just a second. Knowing full well what this man had done to countless other women, he felt a small well of protectiveness for the strange new woman rise in his chest. However, it was his job to be professional, so before turning to tend to his other customers, he simply left the man with a few words of wisdom. “I’d be a little more careful with this one, if I were you,” he cautioned, his a simple statement, and in no way threatening. “Mark my words, this one’s different, and the rest of the bar seems to have taken a liking to her, so I’d be…gentler with this one. Goodness knows I could do with less drunken drama in my bar.” With that, he turned away, grabbing a glass and a towel and returning to his usual vantage point from which he could observe the ongoings.

Amphitrite, on the other hand, had been having a grand old time learning to mix drinks and mingling with the bar clientele in general. She had neglected no man or woman, neither in regards to drink orders or requests for her company and conversation. At the moment, she was happily chatting away to a fixated crowd at the bar while making a Long Island Iced Tea, her hands moving with the fluid grace of a more practiced barkeep. After all, working with anything water-based came as naturally as breathing to her, and her audience could tell. A new voice soon called out though, catching her attention just as she was adding the garnish to her current masterpiece. She glanced up, sapphire eyes falling upon an unfamiliar (and well-dressed) gentleman who had clearly just arrived recently. Passing the drink she had just finished making to the man who’d ordered it, she excused herself for a moment from the group she had been entertaining (and who were, in fact, just as entertaining to her, to be entirely honest) amidst a chorus of “Wait, don’t go yet!”s and a few comments directed at the thieving culprit of a considerably less friendly nature.

Sliding down the bar, she came to a stop in front of the new arrival, her elbows propped on the bar counter as she greeted him with a warm smile. “Always a delight to see a new face,” she chimed, her voice clear, sweet, and mellifluous like the rippling of a fresh spring creek. Her gaze roved over her new conversation partner curiously, taking him in and clearly delighted with how different and statelier he appeared than the rest of the clientele. “And how can I be of service to you tonight?”