The Other Side
by Shana Nolan
Copyroght 1999
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What is it with these people?!

You know, I just work here, serving drinks, listening to their stories and try 
to enjoy my night.

I still can't believe he called me on my debt to him.  She leaves and *bam*, he's  
saying, "'Miklos, Miklos, Miklos... you do remember that time I kept you from the 
fiery torches of an angry french mob, right?'"

And, of course, I have to answer affirmatively and get back behind the bar.

Just when I earned two weeks of vacation, of all times. *sigh.*

And these people...  oh, these people, they saunter up to the bar, their problems 
practically engraved on their foreheads.

Right before closing time.  "Last call for drinks," I always say.

And that's when the stories pour forth like some bloody waterfall.

"'You know what, Miklos?'"

And I, according to Barkeep Rule #1, say, "What?"

"'Make the last one a double.... I have problems you wouldn't believe.'"

*grumble, shakes head*  And I have advice, I have solutions, but they just don't 
want to hear them!

That long haired slacker (hey... he said it!) needs to clean up and ask that cute 
little blonde out for a real date.  He stands her up one more time and I'll take her 
out myself.  Maybe she should show him that great tattoo of hers... *grin*

Or maybe not... its been a while since there's been a natural blonde frequenting this 
place...

Besides Urs, of course.

And, of course, what have I heard most about since I've been here?  Nicholas, 
Nicholas, Nicholas...  if I don't hear it from Janette, its Lacroix or that medical 
examiner or his mortal police department partner or the young one he pisses off on 
any given day.  A boyscout without the "Be prepared" motto.  If he knew well enough, 
he'd enjoy the fact that women fawn over him and run with it.

But, damn, "Nightwatch" wouldn't have any material if he actually got with the picture.  
No one to psychoanalyse on live radio.  That would be a loss.

Besides, Lacroix would get bored...  and we ALL know that when Lacroix gets bored,  
no one is happy.

Then there's the blonde... Tracy.  She's got potential.  Same thing with the medical 
examiner... Natalie.  The fact that they put up with vampires who don't put out, and 
I mean that in both senses, is amazing to me.  You can't tell me, from all the stories 
I've been told from them as they complain the night away, that they don't want more.

Roses are great.  A kiss or two, sure, but the 1950's weren't just suppressing the men.

And despite the fact that I love what I am and enjoy interrelating with the community, 
that Natalie really is good for Nicky-boo.  Sure, she's trying to kill the perfect essence 
of the night and attempting to make extinct human kind's only known predator, but at 
least she isn't a pain.  Harps on him, mostly; doesn't talk about all those experiments 
with me.

Guess she knows I like my fangs.  Could be the way I mix the drinks, too.

Oh... you had to mention him, didn't you?!  What can I say about Screed... well, 
there's... no, ah...

Do you know every time he comes up to the bar he asks for "A migh-tee jigger o' squeak 
an' vino?"  Like I take the time to capture and hand squeeze rat blood into house 
bottles?  Like it's some bloody hot commodity?  *raises eyebrow*  That  turned out to 
be a pun, didn't it... ?

And he smells funny, too!

Anyways, last call was thirty minutes ago.  I'm closing the Raven... and getting some 
sleep.  But for the record...

I still want my vacation!!  *throws up hands and stalks off*


*****************