The Bar
Erwin was content.
It had been a slow night in his bar. An easy night. The piano player plunked out a lazy, spiraling tune.
Morticia, her name was. The piano player. A real looker of a woman - she had plenty of drunk guys hitting on her throughout the day. She mostly ignored them.
Only Erwin knew how much it bothered her.
Angus nursed his shirley temple.
Erwin leaned over, and gave him a lazy faux-glare. “You gonna drink that any time today, pal?”
“I’ll get around to it,” Angus bit out - more irritated than anything.
Erwin lifted his hands in front of his face, like he was surrendering. He gave Angus a lazy smile. “Alright, pal. No need to get snippy.”
Angus came over most nights. He was a bit of a… fuddyduddy, for lack of a better term.
Erwin had never quite been able to abandon the vernacular of his grandma. She’d raised him, after all.
Morticia finished her tune, and there was a quiet round of polite applause.
She was too good for this place. Erwin didn’t pay her nearly enough. But she couldn’t get any other job these days - so she came here instead. And Erwin paid her as much as he could. Tips from horny drunk guys helped too.
She started a new tune, and the applause died out. Another slow one.
It was nearly closing time, after all. Once this song was over, it was last calls for the night.
Eve rushed to deliver some demanding asshole his drink. She was a good kid - too young for all the shit she got. Not a very clever girl, though, and she didn’t have enough cash to get into college - so she worked shifts here whenever she could. Erwin let her, despite his better judgement.
Bryer silently slugged back another shot of whiskey. He was here every now and again - boy, could that guy hold his liquor. Erwin had never seen him talk to anyone, unless it was to ask for another shot. Of course, as the bartender, Erwin didn’t push. That wasn’t his job.
The doorbell rang quietly.
Erwin didn’t even glance up - much less hear the quiet footsteps approaching his bar.
“Hey, hun! Another round for me and the guys!”
“The guys and I,” Erwin heard someone mutter quietly.
That was when he glanced up.
His eyebrows raised.
Great. Another snot-nosed twerp, looking to get a drink with a fake ID.
This one was a girl. Sixteen or so, if he had to guess. Her hood was pulled up - presumably to hide how obviously young she looked. No acne. Dyed hair, with brown roots showing. She was clearly popular - probably had never been told ‘no’ in her life.
Well. This would be the first time, then.
“ID?” Erwin said flatly to her, sticking out a hand.
The girl raised an ice-cold eyebrow. “Pardon?”
He blinked.
None of the other kids had been this obtuse.
“Identification,” he clarified. “To show you’re of age. Eighteen. So I can serve you.”
This didn’t seem to be as clear as he wanted it to be - because the girl simply looked more confused.
“...You lost or something, kid?” he asked, only half joking at this point.
“...I suppose you could say that,” she said thoughtfully.
He raised his eyebrows.
“Where am I?” the girl asked, more calm than Erwin expected.
“You’re in my bar,” he said, not quite sure where this was going.
“No, more broadly,” she said.
“...In America?” he offered. This conversation was getting more confusing by the moment. “New York?”
“...’New York’?” the girl said. “As opposed to Old York? Is this a common naming convention in… America?”
“...Is this a prank or something?” he asked, nearly done with this girl. “Listen, doll, if you want a drink you need a valid ID. I can call the cops, or your parents, if you need me to. But you can’t stay here. This ain’t a place for kids.”
The girl’s eyebrows raised. “It isn’t? Why not?”
“...You do know what a bar is, right?” he asked - shocked that this was a question he, a bar owner, would ever have to ask someone sitting on one of his bar stools.
This girl acted like she… didn’t have the firmest grasp on the english language, or something.
The girl was silent, for a moment - seemingly sifting through some thoughts.
“...A place where you serve drinks with impairing qualities, thus meaning they can only legally be provided to consenting adults,” she said - though it sounded almost like a question.
“Good,” he said, with a nod. Not sure why he was still humoring this girl. “Now, do you need me to point you somewhere?”
“...There doesn’t happen to be a library somewhere nearby?” she asked, glancing up at him.
...Ah. She was homeless.
“Ah. Sure, kid. Go out the door, turn right, and take the third turn to your left - should be somewhere on the left side of that lane, if I’m remembering right. They’re closed by now, though - only open from 11 to 6, most days.”
She took a moment - appearing to commit the information to memory.
“...Alright. Thank you,” she said. The words sounded unnatural coming from her mouth.
She started to get off the stool.
“Hey,” he said - she stopped. “If you need a place to stay - I’ve got a room open. Can’t guarantee it’s comfy, but it’s got a warm bed. I can get you some food in the morning, too.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said - and there was something about her tone that was almost… offended.
And, with that - she left.
Erwin took another moment to wonder about the girl - and then, shook his confusion off.
“Last call for drinks, all!”
He didn’t think about her again.
...Eleven to six.
How was Amity going to manage that? She couldn’t be gone at any point in the day - too risky.
She could break in…
But then she might get taken in by the law. Or this world’s equivalent of it. She couldn’t have that. They might make her remove her hood - show her ears. And that would ruin too many things to count.
So…
How could she get into that building?