forum Treble Clef IPA // Roleplay With Eris
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Mila noted the slight twist of Baylee's features jut as she was about to say that she just wanted the company. Maybe he doesn't want to chat. It is busy after all. Although, at the moment not a single person was looking for more alcohol. Biting her bottom lip, Mila ran a hand through her hair awkwardly. "Oh–uh. Just taking a break you, know? Can't charm the masses all night." She grinned widely, so much so that the corners of her eyes crinkled.

Leaning forward on her elbows so the distance between them closed to a more friendly one, Mila spoke again. "I will have one of your delicious drinks though. But!" She held up a finger as he moved to make her usual. Her hands were graceful sure, but her nails and knuckles showed that she was no stranger to hard work. "I'm feeling adventurous tonight. Wanna make me something special?"

Deleted user

"Well….." he tilted his head and blinked a couple of times, not shying away from her as usual. It was hard to tell by his body language if it was a normal thing for him, or if he was doing it just for Mila, but the interested looks from the patrons in the bar showed that this was something special. Even Berry was looking at them with intrigue, leaning forward on his stool and setting his chin on his hand. "I have some Johnnie Walker Absolut Vodka. Ever heard of a sea breeze cocktail?"

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"Tempting me with the ocean?" Mila asked, her grin softening into something that bordered on flirtatious, but still not quite there. "You sure know how to charm a city girl, Baylee." She continued. Leaning forward a bit more, her eyes twinkled in interest. She wasn't wearing her jacket, thankfully the bar was quite warm, so her lithe form on was full display. The more she moved and stretched over the counter, the more people seemed to be taking notice of the slim strip of bare flesh that was peeking out from under the t-shirt riding up her abdomen.

A brawny laugh had her snapping her attention from the bartender, which allowed the young woman full view of the patrons admiring her form. Immediately, Mila sat back, slouching almost, so that she was mostly hidden under her giant tshirt again. "You've convinced me." She said quickly to Baylee, drawing attention away from herself again. "Let's try it!"

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Baylee nodded absentmindedly, but his eyes weren't on her. Instead, it was on the fat, pig-ugly man in a camo jacket and duck boots. The asshole had a crooked grin on his face as he looked Mila up and down. The bartender never liked the guy to begin with, since he always seemed to cause some sort of trouble whenever he walked in, but now he had a real reason to kick his ass out.

"Berry!" he called over to his friend, pointing at the fatass. "Get that Lợn chết tiệt outta my bar."

(Translation: Damn pig.)

Berry stood up from his stool and walked over to the patron, grabbing him by the shoulder an hauling him out of his seat.

"You fuckin' chink!" the man shouted as Berry shoved him out of the bar and slammed the door.

"Tôi sẽ giết anh ta nếu anh ta quay lại đây," he spat in rapid Vietnamese, turning around and grabbing the grapefruit fruit, cranberry juice, and the Johnnie Walker.

(Translation: I'll kill him if he comes back in here.)

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Mila blinked, the only outward sign of her surprise. How had Baylee known that she had been uncomfortable with how that same guy had been looking at her? She hadn't said a word, but she had sent a death glare to the man in question. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Probably. More than likely. "I hope he rots in hell for calling you that. Fucking bastard deserves to be sodomized by Satan himself." She said genuinely and not without a ferocity that surprised even her. Mila gave Baylee another warm smile when he looked up at her, almost as if he had been surprised that she had said something along those lines.

Stupidly feeling shy over her own reaction, she tucked her hair behind her ears and bit her bottom lip. "Anyway–um. Where did you learn another language?" Please. Anything to start a conversation with you. Mila wondered what language it was, but she wasn't about to embarrass herself or insult by him by naming the wrong one.

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Typically this was a question he would've ignored, but…..there was something different about Mila. Was it her eyes? Her lips? Maybe. Her voice?…..No. It was her everything. Baylee realized right there that he'd just developed a crush on the woman. She was so different than the drunk sluts and the heartbroken girls just looking for a bounce-back. He'd worked in this bar for so long he forgot women other than that even existed. Glancing over at Mila for a moment, he couldn't help but allow a small smile to slip through his permanent scowl.

"My dad was from Vietnam," he explained, placing ice into a highball glass as he spoke. Then, he dropped 4 ounces of cranberry juice, around 1 ounce of Johnnie Walker, and then topped it off with the grapefruit, sliding a lime garnish onto the side of the cup. "So I was raised speaking two languages." He slid the drink over and dried his hands off with a white rag, leaning against the bar in front of her. He gave her a decent amount of space, however, since he was somewhat new to this type of stuff.

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Mila cheered internally. She had gotten him to smile again! She didn't know why it was so important to make Baylee smile, but hell did she feel like a million bucks for doing so. She was still wearing a smug little look as she brought the drink closer to her, stirring it as she spoke again. "Ah, so you didn't have to suffer through four years of languages classes in high school like the rest of us. Lucky." She raised her glass in salute to him, her blue eyes reflecting the light of the bar, warming them, making them almost look downright mischievous. Mila hummed in pleasure as the liquid met her lips and tongue. The fruity alcohol mix warming her chest as it went down.

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"S'not like they teach Vietnamese classes, either," he said with a shrug. On the outside, he looked casual and calm, like this type of thing was normal for him. On the inside, however, it felt like someone had rearranged his organs. His liver was not his lungs, his kidneys functioned as his gol bladder, but most importantly, his heart was functioning as his brain. He had no clue what he was doing, talking to her, and it was…exhilarating.

"Where the…hell is she?" a man shouted as soon as he walked into the bar. The guy already had a half-drunken beer bottle in his left hand and a balled up picture. Berry stood up as the guy stumbled over to Mila and slammed his hand down on the bar. "What the fuck do you think yer doin'? Talkin' to some fuckin' Asian guy?"

Baylee grit his teeth and didn't budge, his smile gone in an instant.

(This is the bitch ass ex, btw)

Deleted user

(lol I assumed. I'm giving him a rando name.)

Damn. How could he be so cool and calm while she was practically vibrating in her seat, watching out for that slim smile whenever it popped out again? Mila had had her fair share of trysts travelling across the country, but talking to Baylee was like picking up along forgotten conversation between the oldest friends. Easy, teasing, poking at something just beyond the edge of comfortable banter of 'just friends'.

She had been about to say that Vietnamese classes would have been much more fun than the years of French that she had been forced to take in boarding school, but Mila's words were cut off by the most unwelcome of guests. She almost dropped her special drink in order to help the stumbling gentleman. That is until she saw who it was. "Jac–Jacob?!" Mila gaped at the large man, dread pooling in her gut. Great. Just great. "Jesus Christ. What are you doing–I'm so sorry Berry–Jacob, what are you doing here?"

The singer hopped down from her stool, going to stand between the bouncer and her drunken ex. If one counted barely a month of dating worth calling someone an ex. She couldn't bear to look at Baylee. He was probably never going to talk to her and her baggage ever again. Shame flooded her face as she squared her shoulders to face off Jacob.

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"Yer comin' back with me," he said, grabbing her roughly by the shoulder and beginning to drag her out of the door. The entire bar stopped and watched the scenario play out as she struggled against his grip.

"That's enough, motherfu-" Berry was cut off by a strong shove from Jacob, sending him crashing into the wall.

"You got sum fuckin' nerve, y'know that?" Jacob growled, his glazed over eyes filled with an alcohol-filled rage. His arm reached back again, this time into a fist that was pointed at Mila.

It happened so fast that it was almost a blur. Baylee jumped over the bar, spilling the Sea Breeze cocktail in the process and getting his left sneaker wet. The floor itself was sticky, though, so he landed without an issue. His fist swung out at a vicious arc, slamming into the drunken face of Jacob with a loud crack. Berry had taught him to punch about a month ago, and that training paid off. It knocked the man onto his back and left him barely conscious. Baylee grabbed Mila's forearm and pulled her behind him protectively as the drunken asshole raised his head again, blinking a few times in a dazed confusion.

"Berry, get his ass outta here," Baylee growled through clenched teeth.

Berry did so gladly, picking the guy up by the armpits and tossing him out of the bar.

"Christ," the bartender mumbled, turning around and studying Mila's face. "Did that lỗ đít hurt you?"

(Translation: Asshole.)

Deleted user

They said that shock was one hell of a drug, but never had Mila ever thought that the statement was true. At least, not until this very moment. Jacob's grip on her shoulder and then her arm had been brutal. Enough to bring tears immediately to her eyes. She had bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out, but that seemed to have been a bad idea since she could taste the blood in her mouth. Her hand was trembling as it rose to touch her self inflicted wound and it took a moment to register that it was indeed blood that coated her finger tips. Mila hadn't even noticed that Baylee had spoken.

"Holy– Oh my god. I'm so sorry." Her voice trembled, but her eyes remained tear free as she looked up at Baylee, then Berry and back again. "Are you okay?" She asked Berry and then turned to Baylee when she received a gruff nod from the bouncer. "Baylee–God–I'm sorry–Are you okay?" Her hands moving from her lips to gently touch the hand that had punched Jacob clear into tomorrow. She brought it up to eye level, inspecting the slightly swollen knuckles. Mila's lip was still bleeding with vigor, but it was like she couldn't process that she had been hurt.

Deleted user

"It's jus' a bruise," he said, allowing her to inspect his hand until he realized that she had blood of her face. He gently reached out with his free hand and tilted her head up so he could see her lip. Thank god, she just bit herself, he thought scrunching his nose up as the sight of the wound. The mouth was probably the worst spot for anything to happen, however, since she still had three more sets to play.

"Lemme get a rag for you," he said, taking his hand back and walking over to the bar. He grabbed the piece of cloth he'd just tossed aside barely 5 minutes ago and walked back over to her. The thought of dabbing the blood himself passed through his head, but he ultimately just handed her the rag. "How bad does it hurt?"

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"It doesn't." Mila said absently, her eyes were a little unfocused as she took the cloth and brought it up to her lips. Her face had warmed when Baylee touched her, and she wondered idly when it had gotten so cold in the bar. Was the world shaking or was it her? Hell if she knew. Vaguely, she heard Berry barking at the crowd to return to their drinks that "nothin' worth seein' was happenin', you buncha nosy fools".

Pulling the cloth away from her lips, she got sight of the blood again and felt her entire face flush. Oh my god. That really just happned. She blinked down at it wearily. She should have left town after breaking it off with Jacob. She had known it the last time she had to cover a fresh set of bruises with extra foundation, but she had stayed. Goddammit, she had stayed like an idiot because she liked her job too much, liked this bar too much, liked this stupid little city too much. She should have just been a passing memory to most of these people. Now there would be gossip. "I'm sorry, Baylee." Mila whispered to the ground. She held out the towel for him to take, but hissed in pain when she extended her shoulder. "Oh-fuc–Ow."

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"Ain't nothin' to apologize for, búp bê," he said, frowning at her wince. He tossed the rag back over to the bar, watching it land on the floor with barely a noise. When he turned back to Mila, his frown deepened. She looked beyond distressed. The playful, confident woman he'd been talking to left as soon mas that Jacob asshole walked in, and appeared to leave with him as well. "He hurt you before, or is somethin' new he decided to try?"

He already knew the answer, but the one that she gave would show how scared she was of the guy. Or she might just not answer because he was prying in too deep.

Deleted user

Well isn't this a great way to make friends? Having your abusive ex stop by to muck up everything is ideal, is it not? Mila rolled her tongue in her mouth, the pink end coming out to gently prod the wound. Finally, she was able to look up at the bartender, running her hand through her thick waves as she did so–with the arm that didn't feel like it was on fire every time she moved. To answer or to not answer? That was the question. Naturally, Mila was leaning towards playing it off and had the words ready to go, but they caught in her throat as soon as she met Baylee's gaze.

"It's not new…" She hesitated, what for she didn't know, but the look that crossed his eyes for a split second was terrifying. "But it's no big deal. I'm a tough cookie remember? It'll take more than that to bring me down." Was she smiling? It felt like it. Right? Mila wasn't sure anymore. She felt so small in front of Baylee, but in a way that was almost comforting. It was a little too much to process in this moment in time.

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"Tôi sẽ đâm vào đôi mắt chết tiệt của anh ấy," he growled, his face turning a nasty shade of red. It wasn't just the fact that he'd hit Mila, although that certainly didn't help.The fact that he had hit a woman at all made his head throb with anger.

(Translation: I'll stab his damn eyes.)

"D'ya think you can still sing, or do you jus' wanna call it a night?" Baylee asked, turning his attention back to the singer. She looked….scared, even with the smile she was attempting. "If boss won't pay ya for not finishin' the gig, I'll do it for 'im."

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"Oh Christ, I have to do that don't I?" Mila murmured to no one in particular. She glanced over her shoulder to the stage, contemplating. Music had always been her release. A way to get out all the bullshit in her head, but was she in the mood to sing the upbeat songs that the bar–and her boss–expected her to? "Ugh what a drag." She continued, scuffing her boots on the ground in annoyance.

Mila didn't want to appear weak, not in front of the patrons–who were still casting her looks out of the sides of their eyes–and especially not in front of Baylee. God knew her reputation was ruined at this point. Sighing again, she folded her arms, ignoring the screaming pain of her shoulder. Leaving in a weeping mess, would prove to no one that she was the tough cookie that she claimed. Not to mention it would give Jacob some satisfaction that he had gotten such a rise out of her.

That's the thought that did it. Mila's jaw set stubbornly and she glanced at Baylee, a renewed, but small, fire in her eyes. "I'll be okay." She said to him, not unkindly. "But thank you…" She gently reached out and took his punching hand once more and gave it a quick squeeze.

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Then it was Baylee's turn to wince, his bruised knuckles being squeezed together just enough to aggravate the wound(?). His hand would be fine, but his drinks would probably take a bit longer to be made, since he would have to slow down.

"Jus'…don't overwork yourself," he said, giving her one last concerned look before heading back behind the bar. Three orders were waiting patiently for him, so he got to work immediately, mixing drink with the same stone cold look he had before she approached.

"Y' managed to break through t' 'im," Berry said from behind her, settling down on his stool once again. "Damn near Herculean task, yet y' did it in a single night. Impressive."

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Mila practically leaped out of her skin at the sound of Berry's voice. She supposed it was still safe to say that her nerves were more than a little frazzled. When she turned to face him, the wild look was dying out of her eyes. "I'm not sure what you mean?" She asked, voice strained. When she realized that he was just sitting and not coming at her, she relaxed. "Baylee is–Baylee." She continued, voice equally soft and inquisitive. Mila looked back at the man in question, watching the way he easily and confidently worked the bar. Despite his scowl, he still looked handsome as shit under the lighting of the bar.

Mila's mouth went dry. Damn what a thought. She chastised herself, but hell if she didn't mean it. he looked at her right then and paused in his work for just a moment, as if checking one final time that she was okay. Blushing, Mila looked back to Berry. "You're speaking in riddles, my friend."

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"I'm not smart enough for riddles," he grunted, a small grin on his face from the comment. "I've worked with that boy for about 8 years now, an' never once had he spoken to anyone other than me and the boss. Soon as you come around, though, he's smilin' and carryin' on conversations and shit. Lookin' the happiest he'd ever been. You got a hold on him, alright."

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"He's charming in his own way." Mila softly intoned. She rocked back and forth in her boots, blushing furiously. Why was this line of conversation making her all a flutter? One would think that Baylee was her first crush. She froze. Completely went still as statue. Crush?! Oh. Oh hell no. "I–I should probably get–stage–back on stage." Stuttering like a fool, Mila about faced and marched over to the stage. Berry chuckled from behind her, and the noise made yet another flush travel from the very tips of her toes, to the very tip of her nose. What in the hell is all this about?

Ignoring the rest of the bar, she hopped up through the railing of the stage, shoulder screaming, and flicked off the standard playlist. A playlist was hastily written on a piece of paper taped to the back of her amp, but her eyes could barely focus on the words. "Goddammit." She muttered and a flutter of laughter trailed through the bar in response. She had spoken directly into the mic. Great. Her confidence was failing her, but it was one of those times where she had to fake it until she made it. If that was how it was going to be then so bit it. Mila put on her most seductive smile, flipping though her ancient ipod until the song she wanted appeared.

When the notes started, she threw all her sanity to the wind, letting the song take control as she purred into the mic.