Mat awoke with a start, the sounds of heavily distorted guitars blaring in his ears. It was then when he realized the tune that was playing and found he had fallen asleep with MTV on again. It was the Beastie Boys' Sabotage video. He rubbed his eyes and realized that he must have been quite delusional to have slept on his couch last night, but he didn't think much of it. He turned the television off as he walked into his bedroom, a room plastered with wall to wall movie posters. Everything from Fritz Lang's M to his most recent addition, a poster for Richard Linklater's Dazed and Confused. Richard Linklater was always a favourite of Mat's, he just loved how real the dialogue felt. In fact Mat had been meaning to see Before Sunrise since it came out a few weeks ago, but he hasn't found the time to see it or the people to go see it with. He hoped he would find a way to get to it before it made it's way to tape. Mat found some clothes in he closet, which was filthy as always. A mostly red plaid shirt with skinny jeans would do the trick for today. He walked into his “kitchen” and made himself a cup of instant coffee before he walked to his “living room” and placed the already half empty cup on the table while he looked at his record player. Paul's Boutique by the Beastie Boys was sitting on the platter, what a coincidence.

Mat was about to place the needle on the record before he realized what time it was. He ran out the door, grabbing his coat on the way, leaving the half full cup of coffee still on the table. He made his way down to the first floor and into the cold. It wasn't as freezing as Mat expected but there was still a little snow on the ground around the sides of buildings. He started to walk to work, which was luckily pretty close to his apartment.

12 Inches, 33 RPM wasn't the biggest record store in the world, but it did have a pretty great selection of indie and imported records as well as the mainstream stuff. Mat opened the door and walked in. The place was painted in a dull green colour, with a few posters advertising concerts around the area adorning the walls, and hundreds of records with everything from Hip-Hop to Punk Rock. Upstairs was a concert space that Mat was not ashamed to say had hosted a few of his not entirely legal parties over the time he's been there. Mat walked towards the desk where he would spend the next few hours. Underneath were a few records that were being held for specific customers, as well as a tape player connected to the speakers on the walls. Behind the desk was a small, obviously handmade poster that said “MISSING RICHEY EDWARDS” with this picture underneath the headline. Under the picture were the words “Anyone with information is urged to call the British authorities and NME Magazine.” Mat's boss was obviously a big Manic Street Preachers fan. Mat took his place and popped in the first tape he could find, which was surprisingly not a Beastie Boys tape. Music filled the store as Mat took a seat and began to wait.

Frederick was woken up by an alarm clock set up in the storage room of New York Electricians. His manager was kind enough to let him stay there until he finds an apartment with some persuasion from his Croat colleague Ivan. His mails are also sent to the office and his most recent was from his older brother who sent him a picture of his niece enjoying Disneyland in Paris. His brother was well-off becuase after he completed his conscripted officer training he fled to Essen in the West to join their extended family's steel exporting company.

Frederick got out of the storage room dressed to look for apartments, carrying a worn briefcase. According to Ivan, having a roommate is better since the rent will be split. He walked past other electricians to leave the office. As sunlight touched he got out a shabby newspaper that looked well-used. There were a list of apartments that were on rent or in need of a roommate. He was looking for apartments close to the office to cut cost on transport, which happen to be close to East Village. He highlighted apartments in East Village to looking and chose to begin by going for the address on the top of the paper.

“Yes, mummy, I -…well no, but I’m – mother, can I just –…” Her words trailed off like a timid little stream that tries to compete with an ocean. Sighing, Evie set down the phone, the cord not long enough to reach her closet, and threw her long, brunette hair into a pony, pulling on a shin length, tan trench coat over her Chanel dress that she probably couldn’t afford, and slipped on a pair of Dior stiletto’s that she definitely couldn’t afford. When she picked up the phone again, her mother hadn’t even noticed her absence on the other end of the line. She was still raving about how Evie had promised to have a job by now and how she had been in New York for almost three months and how her rent payments were almost up and had she been mugged? Evie would tell her parents if there was something wrong, wouldn’t she? Because Eliza had heard that New York had an extremely high crime rate and Evie had really worried her last week when she didn’t call her that one night, Eliza was tempted to phone up every hospital in New York and enquire about her daughter, and how does she chose to repay her? By not getting a job and spending all of her father’s money and all of her time painting for leisure when it was supposed to be a job, and what was she going to do with her Art degree anyway?

“Mum,” Evie interrupted, “Okay, firstly, I always pay my debts-“

“You’ve never had debts to pay off!” Eliza almost laughed and Evie was about to say that she would pay off her debts, eventually, but her mother was still talking. “- And Evelyn, for goodness sake, it is simply not good enough.” Eliza finally slowed down, her voice trailing to a soft half, emphasised by a tired sigh. “Come home, darling,” She was almost pleading and Evie sat down on her bed, winding the phone’s cord around her finger. “You can go on to get a teaching degree and you can teach art. It would be a much more stable life plan for you, and an easy enough job to leave once you’re happily settled down with a husband who can support you.”

Evie ground her teeth together in annoyance, something her mother instantly picked up on and scolded her for. “Evelyn, I’m only thinking about what is best for you. You’re my only daughter, and I love you.” Evie had to smile, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards slightly, involuntarily. Eliza meant well, Evie knew, but she wasn’t the most tactful individual. She did, however, take full responsibility for pushing Evie into art in the first place, thus accepting that her daughter’s choice to move to a different country was, in fact, an unintentional consequence of her own actions. Still, Eliza had been persistent and Evie had yet to have a transatlantic phone call with her that didn’t consist largely of Eliza asking her to come home. It was nice to know that her mother missed her, though.

“Mum, I’m fine.” Evie told her, in a gently dismissive tone, “As a matter of fact, I have an interview I have to get too so I’ll phone you later and let you know how that goes, okay? I love you, mother, tell daddy I love him too, goodbye.” She let her mother say a begrudging goodbye and then hung up.

New York City was different to how Evie had expected it to be. A world away from her comfortable London, New York was always loud and moving, and it certainly lived up to the mantra of being the city that never sleeps. On her first few nights here, Anna had found herself quite restless, having grown up in British countryside where the loudest noise was a plane far over her head, here they were landing on her roof. People were always hailing taxis and swearing in the street at 2am. Anna hadn’t even been out past 9pm yet, let alone 2. She liked to pretend to her mother than she could handle whatever New York threw at her, but the truth was she knew how high crime rates were here, and it did scare her a little. Still, her logic told her that the crime rate was so high because the population was so high, it became a factor unto itself.

One good thing about New York; she had learnt that she could usually count on a taxi to stop for her. Jumping into the taxi, Evie gave the cabbie the address, having learnt that taxis here worked very differently to how they worked in London. For one, no taxi driver had any idea where anything was here, they simply relied on their customers to know where they were going, and they just knew the intersections. Nonetheless, a few minutes later found Evie stood outside the bar where she was having the interview that was just one in a long line, none of which had been successful so far. She was getting desperate. “Lost Drop.” She mumbled to herself, looking from the piece of paper in her hand to the establishment in front of her.

“Okay.” She muttered, adjusting the lapels of her coat and rubbing her hands together, the cold air starting to get to her. Her breath misted slightly in front of her. Winter is coming. She thought. She gave herself a quick, mental pep talk and set back her shoulders before she walked into the pub, the bell ringing as she did so.

Letting the door swing closed behind her, Deb took a moment to stand on her stoop, hands burrowed in the pockets of her worn, black leather coat, her head tilted upwards, her eyes squinting in greeting to the bright morning sun and a small downturn curling into the corners of her lips. She fished the near-empty carton of Malboro and her lighter out of her left pocket, instantly regretted it when the stinging cold morning bit at the chapped knuckles of her hand, and reminded herself for at least the tenth time that week that she should really buy some gloves. 'Or take up fucking knitting and save my life this fucking Winter, christ...' Deb thought to herself, lighting up a cigarette and returning the pack and lighter to her pocket, 'knit myself a fucking roommate maybe.'

Rolling the cigarette to the right corner of her mouth she shot out a short pillar of smoke from her left, and finally deigned to set off from her stoop, and onto the daily pilgrimage to work. Crossing the street, Deb strolled past the iron gates and into Tompkins Square Park, setting off into the North-East, grateful for the familiarity of the shortcut so she could allow her mind to drift into her thoughts, mainly her most current source of irritation.

E/village room available, split rent, cheap!!
kitchen/living room, bathroom, microwave oven, view of tompkin square
Apart.5 339 E 10th st, no pets or suits
Call Video Dungeon on-

It'd been three weeks since Joel left to fester in his oh so tedious so-sorry-for-me straight man bullshit, and two weeks since Deb had put the ad in the Village Voice, to less than positive results, too many applicants 'knowing someone who knew Deb' and therefore were quick to turn around and hightail out the door when she started talking ground rules. She'd even consented to searching outside the typical 'village circle' and posting in the classifieds of some local newspaper, but that had only brought a small flood of penniless students, out-of-work actors and not-the-fun-kind druggies to her doorstep. And they really weren't what Deb needed, she needed someone who had a job, or some family inheritance or maybe an extremely benevolent sugar daddy. She needed someone who'd be able to pay the gas bill or else she'd seriously need to consider taking up knitting just to keep out the cold. She thought back to last year, January, what people were now calling 'the cold wave' and frowned.

Deb took another long drag of her cigarette, lips pursing and brow furrowing, as she weaved around two rastas walking a tartan-jacketed Shih Tzu in the opposite direction. Finding a roomate was hard, and she was distantly reminded of how hard it had in the first place been to recruit Joel as a roommate back in '92, luckily for her at that time Joel was still a struggling photographer, convinced that he'd hit stardom if he could just focus his art through the lens of a tiny but durable hovel of a room with a perfect view of the trees and heroin junkies of Tompkin Square. 'Really', Deb mused as she crossed out of Tompkin Square onto St. Marks Place, 'we had a good deal Joel and I', and they had, he was nothing but amiable with her, he payed his bills on time, they'd even had something of a cooking schedule.

Alas, she shrugged to herself, 'shame I was feeling charitable and willing to teach when his closeted girlfriend came to stay', and really to be fair Joel could've probably been fine with discovering his girlfriend and his roommate making the beast with two backs if the girlfriend in question hadn't thrown a tantrum in the midst of her sexuality crisis, dumped Joel and fled back to New Jersey to find solace with her Catholic family and the confessionals at the Holy Rosary Parish. So, it ended, Joel had left, not wanting to 'house with the succubus' any longer, and had taken his half of the rent with him. Which wasn't good, because small as it was, Deb liked her apartment, it was close to work and Nino's pizza, and several of the heroin junkies really did make for good company.

Deb, further bundled into her coat, eventually turned onto 1st Avenue and found herself outside Video Dungeon, dark and dormant this early in the morning. Fishing a set of keys out of her pocket she set about pushing up the shutters and opening the door. She turned to look behind her and spied the bum that liked to make the rounds around the stores this time of the day, and lifted a hand to her lips to pluck her still-lit cigarette from them, offering it to him. He took it, giving a silent nod to her, Deb replying in kind, before she ducked into the Video Dungeon, closing the door behind her. Inside, she knelt down to beside the door frame on her left, feeling along the floor to find the light switch for the neon sign in the window. Successfully switching it on, Deb made a beeline for the stores sound system behind the counter, shrugging off her coat as she went. She flicked through the small selection Felix let her keep at the store, pulling out one specific tape and allowing a small sigh to pass from her lips.

She could always rely on Kathleen Hanna's shouting and anger to calm her own down inside her head.

'BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP'

Annie yawned drowsily, the sunlight in her small apartment beaming into her house. She opened her eyes, and immediately shielded them from the blinding sunlight as she slowly made her way off her bed. Annie slowly moved her arm off her eyes, and blinked twice walking over to her dresser. She pulled out a nice blouse, a pear of jeans and her favourite boots. Another day of waitressing at the restaurant again. All that was on Annie's mind was Work, Eating and An Animaniacs Marathon. Especially the Animaniacs Marathon. Annie quickly pulled her hair back into a ponytail and twisted it, sticking in two near by bobby-pins to hold it together. Annie quickly stridden into the kitchen, stopping to make a cup of tea. She scratched her forehead as she walked out the door, with tea in hand

---

The restaurant was empty at this time of the day. That's because Annie was the first one to show up, even before the manager. It was an annoying habit of hers, she was an early bird, and she hated it. She had no clue why she arrives to early to places and events. Annie walked up to the door and quickly pulled out a key that was tied to her belt, and unlocked the door with a 'KERCHUNK' sound. She pushed the door open and flicked the lights right beside the door. It was confusing on why the lights were there instead of somewhere else in the building, incase someone accidentally switched them off. Annie shut the door behind her, not bothering to flip the closed sign around. There was no point in anyone coming in, no one besides her was there. Annie sat down behind the counter of the little place. The restaurant wasn't that big, it wasn't fancy either. It was just some place people could come to and eat without really having a reservation. Annie took a sip of her now luke-warm tea, and wondered what type of customers would come in.

Jace tapped his converse encased toes along to a rhythm that only he could hear, he was alone in the dark of the bar that he had since begun calling his home due to his apartment slipping out from underneath him. He wasn’t aware that ‘Final Notice’ was actually the warning of get or ill kick you out. He yawned a little and stretched out, his arms reaching into the bright lights that lit the room. He gave a small squint as he looked around his workplace and home. He was glad that his boss had upped the bar from just a simple sports bar, all wood and jerseys hanging up on the wall. He grinned and pushed off the table he had since been sprawled out over, taking a nap before the early birds started to walk in. He adjusted his simple black shirt, it having become crumpled during his small sleep. His shoulders rolled as he thought of how he got here and began to set up for the small afternoon trickle of patrons.

”You can’t do this!” Jasons voice came out in a small strangled noise as he watched his manuscripts being tossed about, roughshod ‘collectors’ for his scum bag land lord looking for anything they could pawn to pay for the rent.

“You had plenty of time” His land lord smirked, a thick cigar curling acrid smoke from his mouth. He breathed in, something Jace was quite sure was difficult for a man of such girth, and breathed out. He blew the smoke into Jace’s face and grinned “Toss those fucking papers out the window…You got one more month and then I’ll break more than just your little writings Jason…” He spat quickly as his ‘collectors’ tossed the papers out the window and into the raining streets. Jason just stopped resisting, slumping down into a corner for the rest of the night and waiting for his boss to call. Another four months writing just tossed out.

A bitter grin worked its way across the usually serene features of the charming bartender. He loved the look on his landlords face when he smacked him across the face with payments. He shook his head gently and continued washing up some glasses before the bell rang out “fuck, the newbie” he laughed a little and jumped up on the bar, planting his ass down quickly and brushing some dirt off his black jeans as she walked into the main bar area. He gave a quick wave and smile “you must be….” His fingers tapped gently against his chin and his eyebrows furrowed gently before he clicked his fingers and smiled “Evie right!?” He grinned, rather proud he had remembered her name “I'm Jace, I think we spoke on the phone.”

Benjamin stepped out onto the balcony, where a cold gust of wind immediately hit him square in the face. He didn't mind it much, though. The apartment always seemed to be uncomfortably warm even during the cold season, and the biting wind was a welcome change. Besides, he'd never really liked warm temperatures, anyway. Memories of the boiling hot "sinner's room" he'd been forced to pray in for hours on end can still make him sweat, even today. His parents had big dreams for him; to be a priest of surpassing holiness, even a saint. Benjamin reasoned that they were worried about their own sins and sought forgiveness riding on his coattails.

A piercing headache broke him out of his thoughts, and Benjamin turned to go back inside. Christ, the nicotine withdrawal was really kicking in now. He could just get a fresh pack -- except he didn't have enough cash to buy one, playing for tips just didn't cut it in this day and age. Was he paying the price for not having a stable career? Probably, but with a scorpion tattoo adorning the right side of his neck, looking for a job wasn't exactly an easy feat. Benjamin had gotten it done years ago, back when he was young and dumb. It didn't even have any real meaning behind it, and now it was fucking him over royally.

Deciding it best to get ready for the day before his stoner roommates awoke, Benjamin padded over to one of the en-suite bathrooms. In the span of twenty-five minutes, he was all cleaned up and presentable. Well, somewhat. Granted, his haircut made him look like a Founding Father, but other than that, he looked halfway decent. Dressed completely in washed out neutrals, Benjamin gave himself a quick once over. A white t-shirt, classic blue jeans and a pair of beat-up sneakers formed his outfit, finishing it off with his trusty jacket. Made out of 100% wool with two rows of buttons down the front, it was probably the most expensive thing he owned, save his violin. It has, however, served him well over the years; the material withstanding even the worst abuse.

The moment he stepped out of the apartment block, Benjamin was suddenly grateful for his jacket. The weather was quite a bit chillier than expected, but that was just New York for you. Just then, an audible growl emanated from his stomach. He hadn't even had his breakfast yet. In fact, he didn't have dinner last night, either. Fingers tightening around his violin case, Benjamin set off in search of a meal.

Fortunately, just two blocks away, Benjamin found a restaurant that wasn't filled to the brim with the breakfast crowd. Maybe he could get a grilled cheese or something. Briefly glancing inside, he didn't even see the 'closed' sign before he barged in.

"Oh."

He froze in place the moment he stepped inside the establishment. Noticing that there were no patrons there other than himself, Benjamin quickly deduced that the restaurant wasn't open yet. And that he burst in like a moron. He stared at the redhead sitting at the counter for a few seconds, and he had no doubt that it made her feel at least a teensy bit uncomfortable.

"Shit, sorry. I didn't realise you guys weren't open yet. I'll just..." Benjamin interjected his words with vague pointing towards the door. "I'll just leave now."

Mat was flipping through an interesting queercore zine the one of the other employees must had left the night before, thinking about how he should probably head to the video store after work and see if they had an imported copy of Chungking Express or something, when he heard the bell above the door ring, signalling that a customer had come in. Mat looked up and smiled at the man who had entered before putting down the zine and leaning against the desk. It was then when he could get a good look at the man's face and he smiled. He was definitely cute, and the type of guy Mat could go for. Looking at the records Mat knew that this wasn't really the kind of stuff he listens too all the time. He has heard it of course, but his hip-hop knowledge pretty much starts and stops at the Beastie Boys and some plunderphonics records. "Hey man, that'll be 30 dollars." He said to the man with a smile. A slight tinge of his French accent could be heard it in his voice, but Mat had mostly buried it. It's not that he was embarrassed by it or anything, it's just that through college and moving here it has slowly started to disappear.

The music in the store still played

"Hey, brother, still got those Nitro records in back?" Came the familiar gruff, deep country voice approaching the counter. The first thing most saw when they looked at Eddie Muldoon were shirt buttons (In this case attatched to a cheap white/blue plaid flannel piece, sleeves rolled up the forearms to expose a few Christian tattoos) or the leather vest or jacket covered in biker club and band patches. Then, apon looking upward several inches, would come the friendly, if a bit imposing, moustaced face, usualy set into a polite smile as he addressed his audience. Today was no exception, though now he was holding a rather large stack of records tucked under one arm. Black Sabbath, Lion, Motley Crue, and Motorhead in that order from top to bottom. He'd been looking all over the local stores for these to rebuild his old collection after his last old lady had turned....sour.

Eddie'd known Mat for a few months now. He was a nice enough kid, even if they didn't speak much aside from Eddie's weekly stop into the store or when they bumped into eachother in the hallway. He was pretty sure he didn't even know Mat's last name, which was more than he could say about the Rasta-New-Age-Hippy-looking kid, whom he'd seen once or twice in the building, but never actually spoken to.

"Hard as hell to find the classics now. Guess the Gen Xers got tired of whatever the hell they're callin' metal now, goin' back to the old stuff."

Annie stared off at Ben. 'Oh no, it's ok.' She said, smiling slightly. 'I'm just about to open it actually.' She admitted. 'You can stay, but you're gonna have to wait for food when the chefs com-' Annie was interrupted by a chef passing Ben. 'Sorry Sir.' He said as he walked passed the counter. 'Mornin' Frank.' Annie said. Frank smiled, 'First one again?' He asked. 'Uh-huh. Anyways, I think we got a customer.' Annie Said, gesturing over to Ben. 'So you gonna stay?' she asked him, awaiting an answer from him. Frank meanwhile went out back into the kitchen, flipping on switched to lights. 'Oh and.' Annie said 'Can you do me a favour and flip the sign over? Don't wanna fool anyone else.' She asked Ben. Quickly turning away from him and grabbing an apron. Annie slipped the Apron on, and turned back to Ben.

Frederick looked at the newspaper again for the contact detail. Video Dungeon is the meeting place for this potential roommate. Five minute before entering he will give a quick call to the store to let them know he will be there. As he walked around he found a lot of rainbow flags, oblivious to what all of this is about. The condition of the streets reminded him of the last days of East Germany, except for the protests he was called in to help quell. He found a graffitied phone booth that he can use to give the call. He placed a quarter and began the phone call. "Hallo, this is Frederick Lindemann applying for the room in Apart.5 339 E 10th st. I will be there in five minutes." After he sent the notice he continued to his destination.

He found the store with the sign. It was open as another sign was written. He can't really see from his distance so he walked closer. He opened the door to the store and looked around. He will just have a look around near the entrance until he gets noticed.

God, Deb hated it when her turn to open up came round and she was stuck with the morning shift, only two hours in and she was already perched atop the cashier stool behind the desk, pencil in her right hand alternating between doodling on the sale list notebook and drumming against the counter top. It'd been a slow morning which was routine, it was a video store after all. You might get a few stoners in during the day but the crowd was always in the evening, when the release from the 9 to 5 brought in film students to peer at the variety of Kurosawa and Cohen before skulking through to the back to the video nasties, and the working parents trundled in seeking the latest disney to fend off their brats for the evening while they slaved over the stove or overdue paperwork.

Speaking of Disney, Deb grimanced, if she had to listen to the 'Circle of Life' one more damn time she was going to tear the sound system out from the wall, but alas, Felix had come in an hour ago, switching off Jack Off Kill and slipping in a mixtape he'd compiled, full of songs from films just released on vhs as well as the occasional classic. And of course, since The Lion King had just come out, Deb had been 'treated' to far more Elton John than she'd prefer. Piano men weren't really her style after all.

Felix had taken a phone call five minutes earlier before he disappeared to the back room to take stock, but despite the thick curtain that hung over the doorway to the Video Dungeons gore palace, Deb was sure he'd hear if she turned off the tape. So she left it, and instead moved her eyes from the empty shop and instead turned her head towards the storefront, hoping to find something to take her mind off it.

Just at that moment, the door opened with an electronic beep and let in a hulking figure, dressed somewhat shabby and carrying a worn briefcase. He seemed to cast a hard panning glance around the store before stepping inside the threhold with a heavy thump, closing the door behind him. The man proceeded to step further into the store, moving to the left and inspecting the $10 or Less bin opposite the counter where Deb continued to sit, her eyes following the figure as he moved.

Deb raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on the stool and crossing her arms atop the counter. She gave the man a quick up-and-down look, considering his gait and the obvious musculature of his form. Deb cleared her throat sharply, drawing the man's attention, she gave a slight tilt of her head in his direction before speaking in a steady drawl, "Can I help you?"

The $10 or less bin had Western films Frederick obviously didn't know of but perhaps known to a lot of West Germans. Films with this actor called Arnold Schwarzenegger were something he's interested in watching, expecially Red Heat, where a Soviet cop was forced to work with an American to capture an escaped Georgian druglord. There was a David Hasselhoff film in the bin also but he didn't have time to note the title when Deb spoke. "Jah." He responded. His English was broken but can be understood. "I came here for the apartment room. Apart.5 339 E 10th st as written on newspaper." He presented the newspaper that had the address circled with a pen.

Evie noted the man sitting on the bar who greeted her. Jace raised a slender eyebrow at the nonplussed response he received "this interview only works if you answer my questions" he laughed "and customer service works on talking" another laugh escaped his lips.

Evie's eyes moved from roaming the room around her, back to the man. She shook her head and laughed, shortly. "Sorry, I was just taking it in. Yes," She said, walking forwards, her heels clicking on the floor, and extended her hand. "I'm Evie Smith, you must be Mr Rollins?"

Jace smiled, one side of his lips raising a bit higher than the other "please, just call me Jace" he said simply as he shook her hand. His eyebrow raised slowly once more "so Miss Smith" he began "what would you be expecting of this place as a job?"

Evie, who had never had an interview in her life before moving to New York, was realising more and more with each of them, that she wasn't very well equipped for the working world. She had tried to fancy talk her way around so many interviews in the past few months, and none of them had gone her way. "Jace." She nodded, agreeing, testing the name. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and back again, thinking about her answer. "I just...I need to keep a roof over my head." She didn't know how well her honestly was going to work out, especially the way she was dressed, she knew she didn't look desperate for money, but she was getting more and more desperate by the minute.

Jace looked over her slowly, his eyes flicking quickly up and down her as she spoke. He moved back up to bar and jumped up, sitting down casually and continuing to look at her. The way she dressed, spoke and held herself didn't quite match the story she told. But then again...neither did his story. He nodded, hoping to alleviate some stress off her he smiled as he spoke "that's a good enough reason that I won't pry in to" he nodded again "ever worked a bar before?" He doubted she had. The more he looked at her the more she seemed to ooze upper class.

Evie bit her lip, awkwardly, sighed and shook her head. No point lying; if he decided to give her a chance, he would find it out soon enough. He seemed like a nice guy though, his smile an obvious attempt to make her feel more at ease. "No, I haven't. But I'm a quick learner."

Jace laughed "good cause you're on shift in an hour" he laughed and reached behind the bar, grabbing a dish rag and jamming it into his pocket. He stepped down onto the floor and smiled at her again "welcome to the Lost Drop E" he laughed "best put your running shoes on cause tonight is 'Happy Night'" he said with a grin.

Evie's eyebrows shot up. "What...you're serious?" She smiled, a quick laugh escaping her lips. "Thank you!" She said, impulsively stepping forwards and hugging him. Immediately, she regretted that decision, realising how unprofessional it made her look, and she stepped back, clearing her throat. "I mean, uh, thank you for the opportunity. I appreciate it." She nodded and turned to walk through into the back of the bar. "Uh, where should I...?" She held up her bag, questioningly.

Jace grinned as she hugged him and immediately pulled back. He shook his head "hun, drop the professional act before you start working ok?" He smiled "most people don't care for a 'professional' bartender and the same goes for a waitress." He looked as she held up her bag "oh, follow me" he gestured and opened a door set into the back wall of the bar, in between the shelves that held liquor. Behind the door lay a small corridor that lead into an average sized office. The office was decorated sparsely, a small desk and a few filing cabinets being the only things that made it look like the room had a function.

Evie felt a little stung by his words, but she didn't comment on it. He was probably right; nobody who came to bars like this to socialise wanted an uppity server. She followed him through the door and back into the office. It didn't look like a place one would spend a lot of time, just the average work space.

Jace smiled once more "just put your bag down anywhere" he moved over to the filing cabinet, pulling a file out of it and moving to the desk. He placed his feet up on the desk as he sat down and started reading the file "hope you can move fast in heels" he said, eyes flicking up to her over the file "or have you brought another pair?"

"Oh I'm an expert at moving quickly in heels." She commented, jokingly. "Its one of the special skills listed on my resume, along with waltzing and silverspoon dining." She smiled, setting down her bag on top of one of the filing cabinets. Catching sight of herself in the small mirror on the far wall, Evie removed her coat and shook out her hair, trying to make herself look more like a barmaid and failing. Tomorrow she would wear something plain, jeans and a tshirt probably. Tomorrow and every day after that. If she wanted to fit in here, and to keep her real identity somewhat of a secret, she was going to have to look the part. She had the feeling she had already failed where Jace was concerned. Moving over to the chair that sat opposite his, she sat down and crossed her legs, clasping her hands together over her knee. "So, do you have any helpful tips for a beginner?"

Jace looked up at the response she gave and smirked, happy to see there was something more than that professional girl act he saw. He watched as she removed her coat and started to look her over, watching as she obviously tried to make her appearance a bit less upper class. It didn't work. A smile worked it way across his lips. She was stunning, there was no doubt...she would either get lots of tips or lots of flirting drunken men and women Jace shook his head at the question "not anything special...just the usual tips like be nice, don't swear, try not to screw up orders and leave the fancy drinks to me" he smiled. Closing the file, he stood up "oh, breaks are taken in here and there are no cameras in case you find someone out on the floor you particularly like" with that, he winked at her and began walking back out to the bar.

Evie nodded alone as he spoke, taking in his words. They were all general things she would expect and she had no problem with any of them. His comment about the breaks seemed usual enough, and she followed his lead, standing up as he did. His next comment took her off guard and she paused as she was about to leave the office. She smiled, embarassedly, a slight blush creeping up her pale cheeks, before followng him out of the office.

Jace turned into the bar and began his usual preparations, setting up his alcohol so it was in reach. He worked through these things almost without looking, his hands moving quickly. When he finally looked up to see Evie standing there, blush crawling across her cheeks, he grinned "you thought I was serious?" He winked at her "only for staff back there...understand?" Another confident smile worked over his lips as his hands quickly made a few shots "here you go...don't let it go to your head now" he placed the shot in front of her and downed his own "nothing like a .46 Magnum to start a shift" he said with a wink.

Evie's blush slowly subsided and she picked up the glass, smiling. She swilled the liquid around for a moment before throwing it down her throat. She grimaced slightly, as one does when the scalding liquid of a shot hits your throat. "Only staff." She reiterated, lifting her glass at him and setting it back down on the bar.

Deb openly swept her eyes up and down the man again, taking in the man's heavy accent, 'What is he...Polish, German?' she thought to herself. Her brow furrowed, and she wordlessly reached out for the newspaper, the man handing it over silently before returning his hand to his side, slightly clenched. Deb's eyes scanned the page of classifieds, seeing several apartment listings circled in red, hers included. She looked back up at the man, her eyes peering over the spine of the folded newspaper.

God, she would drive her parents insane at this rate, gay drop-out considering sharing a home with a German, most likely. A small sneer twisted onto the corners of her lips.

"Ok..." she drawled, slapping the newspaper down on the counter, before leaning back slightly and bringing her crossed arms to her stomach, "...you got a name?"

Her eyes darted from the man's coat, to his briefcase, and then back to his face. "You got a job?"

The East German realised that his large stature intimidates her, something he is familar with his job. He tries not to think about it too much and thought about the Croat Ivan's assurance that size may be daunting but larger men give the image of professional workers that can get things done. "My name is Frederick Lindemann. I'm from East Germany." He introduced, trying hard to smile sincerely. "I am electrician for New York Electricians. I make about eight hundred a month." He saw how the girl was looking at his briefcase. "I have all details in there if needed. American bank account, company insurance, employment contract and anything else."