[oAnD Bar] Darkness and Light

''There's nothing to be sorry about'', Samael said, shaking his head as took back the glass Deith had just emptied, cleaning it quickly before proceeding to fill it up with the clear liquor of the Angel again. ''Like I said, it's usually the customer that tells their life story to the bartender'', he said, smiling slightly as he tried to lighten up the mood which seemed to have gone somewhat sour again. ''So I've had a lot of practice listening to them'', he said, thinking of those rare nights on which somebody unfamiliar would step through the door and take a look around the bar, only to sit by the bar and get absolutely drunk, their words slurred as they tried to explain why they were not home, in bed, but right there instead. He spent more time listening to the familiar stories of his father's friends, thought, but he had experienced this kind of a night more than once before.

''I'm almost as good at it as I am at telling my own stories'', he added then, yet again, hoping that a bit of a laugh would help Deith fight off whatever dark memory which seemed to have taken over his mind. Immortals, or what little of them he had met, were often like that, Samael thought. They also, however, also had the most interesting stories to tell, he reminded himself, before he told Deith the same as well.

''I must admit I do zone out a bit sometimes'', he admitted jokingly as it was not quite true. There was only so many times a man could listen about somebody complaining about their cheating spouse, but the thing about the customers who usually stepped through the bar door was that they rarely had problems as simple as that.

''Never with immortals, though'', he added, looking at Deith, wondering if he was reading that correctly. The man in front of him looked young, maybe somewhat older than Samael himself, but he had long learned that meant nothing, and Deith had just said he had stopped counting birthdays. Having too many birthdays, however, did not mean immortality. It could have just mean longevity. Somehow, though, it did not feel as if though that was the case.

''They have the most interesting stories'', he said, his hands finally steady for the first time that night, as they were no glasses to clean, and no drinks to make, all of the ingredients required for making a Demon having been gathered a while ago and waiting by his side.

''It does however take them a bit longer to get drunk'', he said, humming silently under his breath, as he leaned against the bar, having previously moved a few steps to the left so he was not crowding Deith as he did so. ''And they are not as willing to talk when they are sober'', he continued to speak, the friendliness of his eyes and voice never wavering at all.

''It usually is'', Samael said, the hands which were calm just a moment ago already reaching for the glass he had placed near the end of the bar to his right, and placing it in front of himself. One of the first rules his father draw into his head as he started teaching him how to make drinks was that he was never to serve a Demon from the same glass he had served Angel from at any point of the night, and Samael had always made sure to follow it religiously, not wanting to, at any point, find out what would happen if he broke it.

''Some things just tend to follow a certain pattern'', he said, slowly adding the second ingredient into the Demon glass along the first, the liquid there already starting to turn heavy looking and black.

''This however'', he said, a smile on his lips and in his eyes growing a bit more mischievous in nature as the amount of alcohol he added to the glass grew by the second ''should make even you feel something. Death or no death'', he said, giving Deith a bright grin, before his eyes focused on the glass in front of him, the look in them sharp and calm rather than full of mischief and warmth. The last few steps of making the Demon required this of him, but soon enough, the look was gone, and Samael's usual smile returned.

''There'', he said, pushing the glass slowly towards Deith as he finished. ''Done.'' The glass now sitting in front of the man was taller but narrower than the one he had been served Angel from, and full almost to the brim of the dark, black liquid which had not yet completely settled.

''You should drink it before it stops moving completely according to my old man'', Samael said, his focus split before the glass and the man behind it. ''Though I'm pretty sure that does nothing for neither taste nor heaviness of it. It just makes it look more interesting'', he said, his eyes for a moment completely focused on a slowly disappearing spin of the dark black liquid.

''The first one's on the house'', he added, his eyes climbing up towards Deith face yet again, a smile on his lips. ''We'll see if you want another one after it.'' Most people did, because the Demon was just as charming as the Angel, only did not posses any of the lightness of the other drink. He carefully did not say anything about the small details of his life that Deith has reviled to him. He saw no point in it. He was not about to ask for more details, and the man would only give more when he was ready anyway.

''Like I said'', Samael said, laughing lightly as he watched Deith try to take the drink down at once only to be stopped by the slow, strong burn of the dark drink. ''It's gonna make you feel something, death or no death'', he said, a smile on his face bright, mischievous. Usually, he was a bit more professional with new customers, keeping a calm, steady demeanour around him even as he talked and smiled at them, reserving the teasing and the genuine laugher for old regulars, and his father's friends no matter how irritating they sometimes could become.

With Deith, however, he had already lowered his guard, letting the mischief shine through his smile. The man had after all asked him for his name because he was already planning to come back, he might as well show him how it looks like, being one of the Of Angels and Demon's regulars.

''I would recommend taking it down slowly. Don't try to drink it all at once like that. It doesn't matter if you've already died once, it is going to burn no matter what'', he said, his demeanour having toned down from bright and laughing to friendly, calm and smiling, but still open in a way he usually was not.

''I mean, it's going to give you one hell of a hangover anyway'', he said, raising his eyes towards a figure, once again, emerging from the shadow which hid the rest of the bar, ''but at least this way, you might not actually want to blow off you're head again'', he said, hoping that Deith would not mind the joke. It didn't feel like he would, but still.

''I'll be back in a second'', he said, standing up straight from where he was leaning against the bar, the whole air around him changing back to that friendly, but professional kind that he usually emitted when he talked to customers he did not know well. The man emerging from the shadow this time however seemed to have been chosen to bring back the drinks for his whole table, so instead of returning immediately as he had last time, Samael set on mixing those six drinks as fast as he could, while still staying precise, hopping that Deith wouldn't finish his drink by the time he was done.

From the other end of the bar, Samael's father watched his son work, both on Demon and on those six other drinks, a moment of silence having fallen again on his now admittedly very drunk friends.

Samael was just about to finish the last drink of the customer's six drinks set, the words of his reply to Deith already on the tip of his tongue, when a new voice came whispering from the dark. ''Hey there sapling'', a tall, dark skinned man said, leaning against the bar right in front of Samael. ''Think you can get me a refill?'', he asked, grinning widely, his teeth bright against his dark skin. ''Not if you're already so drunk that you've got the wrong side of the bar'', Samael said, raising an eyebrow at one of his father's oldest friends. ''Your old man sent me over here'', the tall man said, laughing silently. ''Saw you making a demon for the lanky kid over there'', he explained, his head flying to his left to point to where the Deith was sitting by the bar, slowly but surely finishing his glass. ''Yeah, so?'', he asked a little sharply, pushing a glass he had made while talking to the man, having barely looked at it as he did so. ''Nothing, it seems'', the man said, as he pushed himself from the bar, grabbing his glass. ''You're getting good, sapling'', he said as he took a sip of his drink, slowly returning to the ever quieting group gathered around his father.

''Sorry about that'', Samael said as he returned to Deith, unsure how much of it he had heard or how much of it he would even care about. ''And before. I might not have expressed myself correctly'', he said, eyeing Deith's glass in order to asses would he need to be making another Demon soon. ''I just meant to say that that thing had a really strong kick'', he explained, the dark liquid left in the glass seeming even darker now that it had stopped spinning. ''Strong enough even for somebody who had already died to feel'', he said, unsure what to do with his hands right at that moment. There were no glasses to clean and no drinks to make, so he just leaned against the bar frowning. ''Because all the undead usually have their senses dulled, you know? At least all that I have met so far'', he said, his frown deepening a bit, though it was aimed at himself and his words. ''I didn't really mean to compare the rink itself to death'', he added, raising his eyes, before he smiled again. ''The hangover after it is another story though'', he said, he's face somewhere between frowning in thought and smiling brightly at the joke.

''But you're about to see that for yourself, I think'', he said, pushing himself away from the bar. ''Because I can already see you're about to ask me to make you another one, aren't you?'', he said, eyeing the man's face, which was already slightly red, and he sincerely doubted that a man had suddenly developed a fever. ''You'll have to finish that one first though. They are all supposed to be drank from the same glass. Gives each successive drink even more of a kick'', he explained, his face all bright and bursting with grins rather than frowning yet again.

''Yes, it is'', Samael said, pulling Deith's glass back towards himself once the man had finished with the drink, the first two ingredients already in his hand as he started to mix the drink all over again. ''Same as the Angel'', he added, his eyes on the glass, his movements swift and precise as he focused, once more, completely on the drink in front of him. ''Like darkness and light'', he said a few minutes later when the drink was done and he was pushing the glass, once more filled to the brim, back towards Deith. ''The only thing they have in common is charm'', he explained with a mischievous grin on his face and a glint in his eyes.

''I'm glad to hear that'', he continued speaking once Deith had said that the had gotten what Samael had meant anyway. ''I'm usually better with my words, but this one didn't come out exactly right. It was just a bit too easy to misunderstand'', he hummed, leaning against the bar once again as there was nothing else for him to do. The night was growing late anyway, and soon people would start approaching the bar again, only not to order another drink but to close the bill. The bar itself, however, stayed open for another couple of hours after that, open to all those who couldn't, or didn't sleep, or were simply looking to get drunk enough to be able to do so.

''You're certainly getting there'', Samael said, not making any movement to reach for the money. His father had a rule about that. Customers paid only when sober, and only when done drinking. It took Samael all of his first year working at the bar to figure out that it was put in place so that nobody left the bar too drunk to look after themselves. ''But don't worry about it just yet'', he said, giving the man a smile. ''Let's see how you handle your second Demon first, shall we? You worry about paying for it later'', he said, chuckling to himself.