1 [For the first few years, a typical night in the bar came with a few predictable events--ones that usually inspired a few drinking games among consistent patrons. Whenever someone commented on the owner's height or how young he looked, there would be a sip of beer. If he responded with 'I'm not a kid', then there would be another sip. The rules deteriorated into entire shots depending on how often something happened just to mitigate alcohol poisoning. Meliodas himself had gotten used to the games and allowed them to pan out if only because it was good money for his little dive.
What really got the drinks flowing was any given night when an old or an extremely new face would come in, surprised to see him for one reason or another. In both cases, there would be someone getting dragged out of the bar by their shirt or their hair--depending on the offender. Someone would be looking for an obscure sort of revenge against this young man or they heard rumors and wanted a piece of him for their reputation. The end result was always the same. Someone ran or they were tossed out to the street from the door.
To boot, there was a round mechanical pig patrolling the bar, looking to take orders and playing horrible music near constantly. Anytime someone got sick of it, they paid the pig to shut up and the droning melodies would end, punctuated by a cheer from other patrons. Each night, the young bar owner seemed to take a sadistic delight in this arrangement, collecting money from the annoying moving jukebox with a snicker every chance he had.
Then, there were the nights when the bar owner would challenge his patrons to arm-wrestling after dipping into his own stock a bit too much. Inebriated and merciless, he'd close after sending folks to the clinic with a discount on drinks as an apology the next time they came.]
2 [With the Company's usual approach to threats taken in mind, Meliodas decided to up the security in the bar just a little bit. He turned the pig's settings on 'Higher Aggression' to target any patrons dressed too well for the setting. Anyone with nice clothes would have obviously been an informant from the Company--or at least a patron that had disposable income and could afford nicer drinks. Either way, harassing customers into buying more expensive drinks would have benefitted him just as much as protecting his life.
Despite this, he took the usual spying for what it was--suspicion about him in general. It was no shocker that the Company would want to continue keeping tabs on him given rumored rises of aggression towards the Nine but he was no rebel and didn't subscribe to any politically driven publications so he didn't worry too much about things like his search history. Any investigations of Meliodas' use of networks would really just pull up the kind of filth to make someone blush rather than contemplating overthrowing a government.
On occasion, he would take aggressive steps for himself. Sidling up to customers while taking their orders, getting close and appearing as friendly as possible, he went out of his way to try and turn on whatever charm he could scrounge up to encourage more financially stable patrons to pony up and support the local dive bar. He had bills to pay. Shame was hardly an issue.
One night, he gave up trying to lay the charm on and simply hammered a sign on the front door that read 'Cute/Handsome Waitress/er Sought - Interviews Inside'.
He looked irritated as he regarded the sign as if it were a white flag cast. It was a sign of his utter defeat.]
What a shameful way to realize I'm not even remotely charming...
(OOC: Let me know if you'd like a closed prompt! If not, the contents of both prompts span multiple days so you're free to start off a thread using the events within. Otherwise, if you have questions you can catch me at dannication!)
OTA - Westerly (Old Town)
[For the first few years, a typical night in the bar came with a few predictable events--ones that usually inspired a few drinking games among consistent patrons. Whenever someone commented on the owner's height or how young he looked, there would be a sip of beer. If he responded with 'I'm not a kid', then there would be another sip. The rules deteriorated into entire shots depending on how often something happened just to mitigate alcohol poisoning. Meliodas himself had gotten used to the games and allowed them to pan out if only because it was good money for his little dive.
What really got the drinks flowing was any given night when an old or an extremely new face would come in, surprised to see him for one reason or another. In both cases, there would be someone getting dragged out of the bar by their shirt or their hair--depending on the offender. Someone would be looking for an obscure sort of revenge against this young man or they heard rumors and wanted a piece of him for their reputation. The end result was always the same. Someone ran or they were tossed out to the street from the door.
To boot, there was a round mechanical pig patrolling the bar, looking to take orders and playing horrible music near constantly. Anytime someone got sick of it, they paid the pig to shut up and the droning melodies would end, punctuated by a cheer from other patrons. Each night, the young bar owner seemed to take a sadistic delight in this arrangement, collecting money from the annoying moving jukebox with a snicker every chance he had.
Then, there were the nights when the bar owner would challenge his patrons to arm-wrestling after dipping into his own stock a bit too much. Inebriated and merciless, he'd close after sending folks to the clinic with a discount on drinks as an apology the next time they came.]
2
[With the Company's usual approach to threats taken in mind, Meliodas decided to up the security in the bar just a little bit. He turned the pig's settings on 'Higher Aggression' to target any patrons dressed too well for the setting. Anyone with nice clothes would have obviously been an informant from the Company--or at least a patron that had disposable income and could afford nicer drinks. Either way, harassing customers into buying more expensive drinks would have benefitted him just as much as protecting his life.
Despite this, he took the usual spying for what it was--suspicion about him in general. It was no shocker that the Company would want to continue keeping tabs on him given rumored rises of aggression towards the Nine but he was no rebel and didn't subscribe to any politically driven publications so he didn't worry too much about things like his search history. Any investigations of Meliodas' use of networks would really just pull up the kind of filth to make someone blush rather than contemplating overthrowing a government.
On occasion, he would take aggressive steps for himself. Sidling up to customers while taking their orders, getting close and appearing as friendly as possible, he went out of his way to try and turn on whatever charm he could scrounge up to encourage more financially stable patrons to pony up and support the local dive bar. He had bills to pay. Shame was hardly an issue.
One night, he gave up trying to lay the charm on and simply hammered a sign on the front door that read 'Cute/Handsome Waitress/er Sought - Interviews Inside'.
He looked irritated as he regarded the sign as if it were a white flag cast. It was a sign of his utter defeat.]
What a shameful way to realize I'm not even remotely charming...
(OOC: Let me know if you'd like a closed prompt! If not, the contents of both prompts span multiple days so you're free to start off a thread using the events within. Otherwise, if you have questions you can catch me at