[ If you're one to frequent the Blue Light, there's a good chance you've been served by Amory Felix.
On a sight alone, he's a nondescript brunette, underweight and of medium stature, who goes about his job in a manner of quiet confidence. If you've never spoken to him before, you've probably heard whispers about him-- that he's been in the City for ages-- over three years, which in a town like this, might as well mean eternity; others say he's an asshole, and just by observing his behavior your impression of him may range from inscrutable to aloof to even unfriendly. Amory has never been the sort of bartender to go about making lively conversation in an effort to panhandle for tips. Beyond casual throw-a-way remarks, he hardly makes conversations with his customers. Instead, he'll make you a mean drink, maybe one of the best you've ever had: from old classics to on-the-spot concoctions. He wants to be unnoticeable, rather than to draw attention to the fact that he has been a bartender here as long as he has. You ask an eighteen year old Amory what he planned to do at twenty-five, and the last thing he'd say is bartending.
But on this night, it's hard not to notice Amory Felix thanks to a large vermilion bird perched on the bar. It's an odd looking bird, which almost makes you wonder if it's even a bird in the first place. Scarlet pinions covered with feathers in varying crimson hues sweep across the counter. She looks majestic and proud, and yet its feathers are ruffled in that way of distressed birds, the creature itself as spare as its owner.
Nevertheless, the bird stands there proudly as it surveys the bar with keen obsidian eyes that behold intelligence. She's large enough to fill up an entire section of the counter.
Amory is noticeably self- conscious about the creature, shooting it looks as he finishes up a lemon droop. ]
Can't you pick a less conspicuous place to stand?
[ Humor in her melodious tone, the bird snaps back. ]
On a sight alone, he's a nondescript brunette, underweight and of medium stature, who goes about his job in a manner of quiet confidence. If you've never spoken to him before, you've probably heard whispers about him-- that he's been in the City for ages-- over three years, which in a town like this, might as well mean eternity; others say he's an asshole, and just by observing his behavior your impression of him may range from inscrutable to aloof to even unfriendly. Amory has never been the sort of bartender to go about making lively conversation in an effort to panhandle for tips. Beyond casual throw-a-way remarks, he hardly makes conversations with his customers. Instead, he'll make you a mean drink, maybe one of the best you've ever had: from old classics to on-the-spot concoctions. He wants to be unnoticeable, rather than to draw attention to the fact that he has been a bartender here as long as he has. You ask an eighteen year old Amory what he planned to do at twenty-five, and the last thing he'd say is bartending.
But on this night, it's hard not to notice Amory Felix thanks to a large vermilion bird perched on the bar. It's an odd looking bird, which almost makes you wonder if it's even a bird in the first place. Scarlet pinions covered with feathers in varying crimson hues sweep across the counter. She looks majestic and proud, and yet its feathers are ruffled in that way of distressed birds, the creature itself as spare as its owner.
Nevertheless, the bird stands there proudly as it surveys the bar with keen obsidian eyes that behold intelligence. She's large enough to fill up an entire section of the counter.
Amory is noticeably self- conscious about the creature, shooting it looks as he finishes up a lemon droop. ]
Can't you pick a less conspicuous place to stand?
[ Humor in her melodious tone, the bird snaps back. ]
No, I quite like it here.
( You know we don't allow animals in the bar. )40 comments | Leave a comment