Don't I Know You from Somewhere...? (T-M, language, adult content,etc; Private)

She rolled her eyes, somehow both comfortable and familiar with the way in which he was speaking. "Oh, little me?" The woman inquired, looking only out of managerial curtesy when the daytime bell rang to indicate that the door had opened. A regular patron stepped in, making his way to his usual high top table nearby before realizing that the woman was there.

"Rose! You're a tad early, don't you think?" There was enthusiasm in his tone, a sheer willingness and joy that reminded her all too much of a small puppy. The kind she'd like to punt, if only her sister would allow it.

"Hello, Leo." She said, tone flat, bored, stance unchanging other than to stiffen up, her eyes acutely focusing on nothing in particular but anything that wasn't the man now all too fascinated with her existence.

Ezra rolled his eyes, picking up a fresh glass of Death Dew with which to distract himself in hopes that this patron would leave as quickly as he had come.

"How are you? I didn't think I would be seeing you before the Night Life," as he dubbed it, "Let alone before karoake."

Please leave me alone. Everything about her seemed to be screaming those words except for her voice alone. "Yes, well, I do own the place. And the notice that forbids you in here after seven at night."

"Sorry, champ," Ezra began, looking up from his glass. "I hate to...impose, but the lady and I were getting to know each other. I'm no priority member, but that's bad etiquette, yeah?"

Rose's golden eyes flitted up from behind her lashes, a mouthed thank you, escaping her.

The man made a bit of a face, clearly hurt on a childish level, "Well, yeah, but-"

"Leonard, get out already." The cook said, poking her head out behind the kitchen line. "You know you're not supposed to be around her. Just go."

He moved to retort, but a sudden flicker of light followed, a strange projectile in the shape of an arrow but with no tangible mass striking the table beside him. The man tensed, face draining, before excusing himself out. Rose's head lifted to look towards the back rooms, seeing her sister standing with a raised brow, a slight hint of irritation to her expression.

"Crystal," the red head said, straightening as her twin relaxed. Gold on lavender, she grinned, though a tinge of guilt tainted her expression. "This is my sister," Rose clarified, gesturing towards her, "And weapon partner. You wouldn't know it, what with the white hair and stick figure, but we're twins."

I'm not a stick, her eyes screamed, offended, though her smile was pleasant as ever, "Charmed. And you are...?"

"Ezra Mercer," he said quietly, extending a hand to hers with a firm shake. "Against my previous experiences, I'm going to assume that I was not in the wrong in dealing with this one?" His eyes flickered between them, his mindset shifting with them. Rose was a beauty, and a fierce one. Her sister carried her beauty in a more reserved, ethereal manner. Together, it was no small wonder that Leonard had bolted at the mere sight of Crystal. Side by side, the pair looked infallible.

"Correct," the younger twin said, carefully shaking his hand and smiling. "Rosaline has an... unofficial restraining order out on the man... for the majority of the establishment." She offered a nod, long hair flowing freely about her, a stark contrast to her sister's unruly, pinned curls. "As this is still a business establishment and my sister lacks... tact in matters that incite her temper, we typically just run him off-"

"Lest he gets his head stuck up my ass or my boot up his,"

"...yes. That." The language clearly made her uncomfortable, and was likely a hint of payback, as the elder sibling had taken to glaring the precise moment that her birthname was mentioned.

Ezra smirked to himself, quietly side-stepping from between the two sisters. Though he couldn't place it, they carried an indisputable air about them. The contrast reminded him of himself and Harrison. Therein laid proof that opposites can often carry bonds that ran well below the surface.

"Perhaps your sister has a point," Ezra jested at Rose, slipping to stand beside Crystal. "Tact must be had if you want to decisively end his...whatever the hell he does. That said, perhaps the man does need a...firm deterrent. Should her tact not work, let Rose give him the boot, so to speak. If he guesses the size correctly, he can keep it. You know, for fond memories."

Rage flared behind the owner's eyes at the notion that her sister would be more correct than her, though the joking quip at the end was enough to quell it down a few notches into civility.She narrowed her eyes, folding her arms across her chest and tossing back the loose, curled locks. "I can handle myself."

"Without stooping to murder?" Her sister inquired, the bruhtal word a stark,unexpected xontrast to the otherwise docile woman.

"I wouldn't get caught."

"You'd fuck the officer." The retort came from one of the cooks, and Rose snorted out a laugh.

"I do like handcuffs."

Ezra muffled a snort, his eyebrow cocked at Rose with visible interest. "You are a ball of fun, aren't you?"

He slid back onto a bar stool, tipping back a generous swig of whiskey. Thirst momentarily sated, he spun in place to face the siblings once more.

"I've heard that the interior design comes by your hand, Crystal," he began, nodding at the decor appreciatively. "It's exceptionally done, but I've noticed it changes rather often."

The younger twin's eyes lit up in a heartbeat, and Rose found herself left to only smile, temper and cockiness diffused in light of her sister's happiness.

"It really has to," she began, moving to sit up at the bar as well. The bartender set out a cream soda for her. "Rose's themes change periodically. Additionally, there are holiday and season changes to account for-"

"And, occasionally, you just get bored." Rose added, returning to her seat and tossing back a root beer.

"Great things have been accomplished because someone was spurred by their own boredom," Ezra admitted, swirling his glass to himself. "I was curious, so I felt compelled to ask. With how often it changes, it was easy to wonder if the artist is simply indecisive or...maybe shifting and changing is just in their nature."

He paused a moment before nodding to Crystal and finishing off his glass of whiskey, waving for another Death Dew. "In any case, the work you do is phenomenal. That much, I can't deny."

The bartender took one look at the soda glass and set about changing the settings on the sprayer, filling the cup up accordingly before doing the same for both girls. Speaking off, Crystal's face had completely flushed and she found herself looking down, flattered beyond belief. "I... thank you for that."

Rose smirked, folding one arm on the bar as she watched them from the corner of her eye. Taking a swig, she re-angled her body, eyes scanning over this Ezra that had suddenly seemed so very much more talkative.

"Were it that I deserved the credit," Ezra said, rolling his eyes. "I'm a brooding bastard if left to my own devices. My brother once told me that we can curse that rose bushes have thorns or rejoice that thorn bushes have roses. Perspective, ya know? Despite my best efforts, he's managed to rub off on me. I'll take the thorns as they come..." He trailed off, his eyes finding Rose's with collected intensity. "...for the sake of the roses."

He let the ice wash along the edges of the glasses, carried without cause by the Death Dew. "I hate when he has a point."

A smirk appeared on the red haired woman's face, his flirting even more blatant in light of word usage. Something in her gaze seemed heavier than before, deeper as it stared back at him, not unpleasant but certainly unsettling to those weaker in social environments. It was nearly palpable, but something no one would willingly point out, as she was likely to either blatantly ignore or deny it, it become the tigress that she was.

Crystal, meanwhile, merely shrugged, acting as though she saw nothing when it was most obvious that she saw it clearer and deeper than all else there. Even still, she watched, curious, "Glass half full there?"

Ezra laughed to himself. "Maybe the glass is just bigger than it needs to be," he jested, his eyes still wavering over Rose. "Still, it did help. Lord only knows where I would be without my brother. Making a living of middle-school angst, potentially."

A snort followed from Rosaline, and she nodded towards Crystal, "If not for her, I would refer to that as a career as an artist." Even still, Crystalline offered a bit of an offended scowl back at her.

"Hey, cut the artists some slack," he teased, waving a hand towards the room. "Art rarely establishes itself as a lucrative career path, but that means that many artists do what they do because they love it. If you're going to pursue something, you might as well pursue it with a passion."

Rose laughed, gesturing overly extravagantly towards the stage, "Crystal always says that I am an artist in my own right. I just don't think middle school angst is necessarily what drove me here."

Ezra laughed, bowing with an indiscernible blend of teasing and truthfulness. "Anyone is an artist if they act with passion and creativity. Art isn't restricted to canvases and sculptures. Look at the world with an artist's eyes and you'll find beauty..." He gestured between Rose and the stage "...in unexpected places."

A smile played at her lips, an acceptance --- which she would never admit to --- to the unexpected display of compliments and appreciation. Even still, she found herself looking to her watch, noting the hour and doing a mental rundown of the preparations needed for the events of the night. "Are you staying for the shows, Ezra?"

By now, Crystal had kindly, and silently, bowed out, returning to her own office without a word, light arrow reabsorbed into her palm.

He tugged back the sleeve of his jacket, eyeing a simple silver watch secured around his left wrist. "I'll hang about for some of the karaoke, but I'll have to pass on the dancers." He paused, catching on his own words. "Do you...manage them? Or do you dance with them?"

Her lip twitched in a bit of a smirk, and the girls that now tended the bar and dining area began to giggle and wander a little less conspicuously about the dining floor. They knew the answer, and many of them were among the dancers as well as the servers. Anyone that was willing to try their hand at the stage and was at least twenty-one years of age, though sober by all means, was welcome to do so. More than once, Rosaline had trained servers up from hostess through to bartender and dancer herself. The entire establishment knew her personally, and just what she could do to newcomers, costumer and employee alike.

"Both." She said, and she could swear that she could have heard a pin drop in that moment, golden eyes shining as the look on her face turned to one of deviance and seduction.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, biting his lip with suppressed interest. "I...you know what? I'll stay. Something tells me that your art is one worth appreciating."

One of the newer, less composed, waitress made a snorting giggle at his words, no one fooled by his tact. Still, Rose seemed more than amused, and highly appreciative of his new-found willingness. "Your tab is already on the house, spettro," The sudden accent to her voice was thick and pure, as extravagant as ever, but somehow still flowed brilliantly into her regular speech, "your entry fee will be tacked onto that bill as well. Rules are displayed by the stage and repeated on-screen before either event." She shot him a wink, eyes alight all the while.