We slid onto the stools, the smooth wood of the bar table gleaming under the warm, amber lights. The hum of conversation buzzed around us, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Sasha sat upright, her eyes flitting over the shelves behind the bar, where bottles of every shape and size gleamed like trophies.
I leaned back slightly, resting an elbow on the counter. "Sasha," I said, breaking her focus, "what would you like to have?"
She hesitated, her gaze darting between the colorful liquids displayed like jewels. "Umm... maybe something light," she said, her voice cautious. "I'm not really good with drinks. Moreover, I have a flight tommorow at noon."
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I watched her analyze the showcase, her eyes narrowing slightly as though she were sizing up each bottle for a challenge she wasn't sure she wanted to take on.
"Relax," I said, chuckling softly. "You don't have to decipher the entire bar menu."
Across the counter, Edward moved with practiced ease, shaking a cocktail mixer in one hand while sliding a beer to a customer with the other. His skill was evident in the smooth, fluid motions of his hands—a lifetime of experience distilled into every flick of the wrist.
Edward glanced our way, catching the exchange with a knowing grin. "First-timer?" he asked, nodding toward Sasha.
"Something like that," I replied. "Think you can whip up something light and forgiving for her?"
Edward chuckled, already reaching for a shaker. "Say no more. I've got just the thing. Trust me, young lady, you're in good hands."
Sasha shot me a wary glance but nodded. "Alright," she said, her tone resigned but curious.
As Edward worked, his hands a blur of movement, I smirked and leaned toward her. "Don't worry. He's a master at this. You might even enjoy it."
"I'll believe that when I taste it," she muttered, though a faint smile betrayed her amusement.
"Ol' man, Edward, can we get some warm food? My friend's had a rough day," I said, settling into the stool and stretching my legs under the bar.
Edward turned, his weathered hands already reaching for a laminated menu tucked near the register. He slid it across the counter with a flourish. "Here you go, Mr. 41 Smoke Gun," he said with a sly grin.
I raised an eyebrow, smirking as I picked up the menu. "First time I've been called that," I said, shaking my head. "Creative as always, old man."
Edward leaned on the bar, his grin deepening. "What can I say? Your habits leave an impression. You'd probably light one up right here if I didn't keep an eye on you."
I chuckled softly, flipping through the menu. Before I could make a decision, Edward's gaze shifted to Sasha, his expression turning from teasing to playful curiosity.
"So," he began, eyes glinting mischievously, "is this your new girl? She's too young for you, old Smoke Gun."
I didn't respond, letting the scene unfold. Edward had always enjoyed poking fun, and tonight was no exception. Sasha, caught off guard, glanced at me briefly before deciding to let the moment play out in silence.
Edward wasn't finished. He leaned closer to Sasha, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "Young lady," he said, his tone conspiratorial, "take some advice from a man who's seen it all. Don't mess your life up with a Smoke Gun like him. You're still in college, aren't you? Go out, live your life. Travel. Party. Don't waste it babysitting an old geezer like him."
Sasha's lips twitched, her shoulders shaking slightly before a soft laugh escaped her. She quickly covered her mouth, trying to mask her amusement, but her bright eyes betrayed her delight.
Edward straightened, clearly pleased with her reaction. "See? She's got a good head on her shoulders. She knows I'm right."
I rolled my eyes, leaning back on the stool. "Are you done with your stand-up routine, or do we actually get to order food tonight?"
Edward smirked, slapping the counter. "Alright, alright. What'll it be, then? Don't say I didn't try to save her."
Sasha leaned toward the menu, her laughter fading into a small, lingering smile as she scanned the options. The ease in her demeanor told me she wasn't offended—far from it. She seemed to enjoy Edward's antics, her earlier tension dissolving in the warm, lively atmosphere.
As for me, I couldn't help but be amused myself. Edward had a way of cutting through the day's heaviness with his banter, and tonight was no different. The exchange was far more engaging than the best drink he could serve, and for a moment, the weight of work and the season's chaos melted away into something simpler.
"Have you decided on anything, honey?" I said, my voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness as I leaned slightly toward Sasha.
The words hung in the air, catching her off guard for a brief second before her lips curved into a sly smile. She chuckled softly, clearly amused by the sudden act I'd thrown her into.
Edward, who had been wiping down the bar with a practiced hand, paused mid-motion. His piercing gaze locked onto me, his bushy eyebrows raised in a mix of surprise and suspicion. I could feel the weight of his stare, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were holding back a comment.
I couldn't help but feel a little ridiculous at the impromptu role play, but Sasha's reaction made it worth it. She leaned back in her stool, her laughter soft but genuine. "I think I'll have the grilled salmon," she said, playing along with an air of mock-seriousness. "Something light, you know, since you're always so concerned about my health."
"I will have a steak, I guess. I am craving for something fulfilling.," I said, stretching my arms.
Edward's lips finally broke into a grin as he shook his head. "You two are something else," he muttered, turning away to take the next order. Behind the counter, he juggled cocktail shakers and bottles with ease, pouring drinks and filling glasses like the seasoned bartender he was.
Sasha leaned toward me slightly, her voice low enough for only me to hear. "Nice touch with the 'honey,'" she said, the amusement in her tone unmistakable.
I shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Thought I'd keep things interesting."
Edward, still busy with a line of customers at the far end of the bar, called out over his shoulder. "If you're gonna play house in my bar, at least leave a good tip."
Sasha burst out laughing, and even I couldn't hold back a chuckle. The moment was light, absurd, and oddly refreshing.