"Oi barmaid! Get me another drink~!"

You roll your eyes while making your way over to the drunken male, his wild green hair being the first thing to catch your attention, followed by his brown eyes and his septum piercing. 

Come to think of it, you don't recall serving him before. 

He must have been the one Shanks dealt with before rushing off to the backroom.

"Can I see some ID please?" You calmly request, taking his empty tankard and earning yourself a pout in return. 

"I've already had a beer, why do you need my ID?!"

Unfortunately, Shanks rarely ever checks anybody's age when serving them, but you're slightly more wary than that. After all, this job keeps you housed and fed, you'd be in a similar situation to Bonney if the bar were to be shut down for serving underage people.

Though much to your surprise, the greenette does comply despite his displeasure. 

You patiently watch as he removes his ID from his wallet, showing the card to you and barely giving you a chance to read it before snatching it away. "Can I have my beer now?!" 

He's going to be a difficult customer, isn't he...

"You know I didn't get a chance to read that." You bitterly grumble, still pouring him another drink however since you did manage to spot the year, if nothing else. 

He's definitely legal but for some reason, just insists on being a pain in the ass. 

"Enjoy." It takes some willpower to force those words out of your mouth as you place the tankard down in front of him, the greenette taking some money from his wallet but deciding to be difficult still. 

"I'm not paying the whole price due to the inconvenience!" 

What?!

"Very funny. You'll pay for the damn drink otherwise you'll be wearing it." 

Your words seem to surprise the man but in a way, it's like your snappy side gains some of his respect, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he hands the correct amount of money over to you. 

"You got balls, miss~! D'ya know who you're speaking to~?"

A moron?

However before you speak, a deeper voice catches your ear, your heart clenching inside your chest. "Bartolomeo, 22, currently on parole after being jailed for petty crime." Following the voice with your eyes, you find Rosinante making his way around the bar and stopping just short of the greenette, toking on his cigarette briefly before he continues. "Do you really want to cause trouble tonight?"

The greenette noticeably pouts up at the older male but he doesn't argue, instead just taking his drink and making his way back toward his table. 

Ah, so he's a nobody.

You watch the cute blonde take his seat, the man isn't wearing any make-up tonight but he does still don his red beanie and pink heart-decorated shirt, as well as the feathered coat of course. 

Although, you must admit, this style suits him rather well. 

"Shanks is in the back," You politely state. "But he's in the middle of a meeting so you may have to wait a few minutes. Would you like a drink in the meantime?" 

His brown orbs linger on you for a moment too long, immediately causing your face to start burning as you nervously shift your weight from one foot to the other, thankfully he soon averts his gaze to the menu instead, leaving you to have a subtle mini-heart attack while he answers. 

"I'll have a whiskey, get yourself a drink too. It's important to stay hydrated." You can practically feel him watching your every move as you grab two glasses from underneath the counter, your cheeks feeling hotter by the second as you begin to fill them, trying your best not to make eye contact with him whilst also trying to appear confident.

Please, what's wrong with me? Pull yourself together!

A sudden smell does draw your eyes back to him however, it's a slight burning--The man's coat is on fire. 

SERIOUSLY?!

Impulsively you abandon your barmaid duties, swiftly setting the drinks down and snatching a rag from the counter, it's usually used to clean the surface areas but it's all you can work with right now. Practically throwing yourself toward the man, you press the damp cloth to the small fire on his coat, causing him to jolt and his eyes to widen, apparently he somehow hadn't realized he had set himself alight. 

Rapidly patting the cloth against his coat, the fire soon goes out, leaving behind a black burn and strong smoky smell. It's also within this moment that you notice the multiple burn marks on the article of clothing, your brows furrowing as your eyes finally find the courage to meet his gaze, at least this time he's the one blushing. 

"You're quite clumsy, aren't you?" You finally notice, watching as his face turns slightly more red as he shyly shakes his head, the poor man trying to save some of his dignity at least. "Don't worry, it's kinda cute in a way." 

Although making him feel better was your initial intention, you're not exactly lying.

He really is cute. Too cute. He needs to stop it. 

It takes you a moment before you realize you're still pressing the cloth to his coat, your face flushing once again as you force yourself to straighten up and a nervous smile plastering itself across your lips as you set the rag back down. 

"Heh, s-sorry about that!" Feeling eyes on you both, you shoot a look of warning toward a few staring customers on impulse, instantly making them avert their gazes and resume their general conversations.

You'll not have any customers making this man feel uncomfortable. 

Rosinante doesn't respond to your apology however, merely just watching as you turn and grab the drinks, setting them down on the counter. 

It's only now that some of the younger customers begin to leave, thankfully. Bartolomeo included, so you can at least start to relax a little - this is to be expected on weekends.

People will have pre-drinks here before they hit the clubs, sometimes you'll have a few stay here for the sake of a calmer atmosphere but for the most part, around this time it becomes a little more quiet. Your curiosity quickly setting in as your gaze returns to Rosinante, watching as he peers into his whiskey, twirling the liquid around in his glass.

Is he okay?

"So how do you know my boss?" You calmly inquire, leaning over the bar slightly to support your aching legs but also to hear the man speak more clearly over the music and drunken background chatter. 

The blonde meets your stare immediately as he shifts in his seat, seemingly unsure of what to say, of course you find your attention more drawn to his features than what he's talking about though; he has quite expressive eyes when he's not wearing make-up and his nose is an oddly cute shape, not to mention his smile, it looks so much kinder without the lipstick. 

I wonder why he wears make-up when he's such a handsome man without it... 

"So, I'm just hear to let him know and offer him a way to deal with it." The blonde finishes, causing you to blink in confusion as you try to conjure up a response.

Shit, what did he say?

"Oh, I see." Yes, it's the best you could come up with.

"Mhm...I'd rather you not tell anybody though."

"Of course I won't~!" I couldn't even if I wanted to.

"By the way, there's something I've been meaning to ask you..." He finally murmurs with clear hesitation in his tone as his orbs flicker back down into his drink, his shoulders noticeably tensing as he hums to himself, seemingly looking for the best words to use. "Would you be interested in going on a da--"

Finally the backroom door swings open, silencing Rosinante in the process as Katakuri exits first, followed closely by Shanks - the redhead appearing somewhat wobbly in his movements and his grin wider than ever, meanwhile you feel like you've just been kicked in the gut.

You were almost sure he was about to ask you out on a date before these oafs ruined it.

Bastards!!

"The crate will be here by 11am tomorrow." Katakuri murmurs while making his way to the pub's exit, a very tipsy Shanks leaning against the bar and offering him a friendly wave goodbye.

"Okay! Don't worry, I'll be awake for it~!"

Yeah, with a hangover maybe! Was he seriously drinking back there?!

He was supposed to be helping you with the customers, already you can see Rayleigh in the corner of your eye, the silver-haired man seemingly waiting to be served. Rosinante sadly taking this opportunity to chug the rest of his whiskey before rising to his feet and greeting your boss. 

"Oh hey, Rosi~!" Of course, Shanks isn't at all scared of the criminal, instantly throwing his arm around the man's back and ushering him toward the backroom next, once again leaving you alone to deal with the punters. "It's been a while since I've seen you! How're your brothers doing?!"

Brothers? He has multiple?

"Oi, barmaid!" Rayleigh playfully calls, drawing your attention as he raises an empty glass. "Can I get a refill? Or at least, your phone number?" 

"You may have a refill." A forced chime in your voice as you approach the older man, taking his glass and pouring him another beer, not at all missing how he stares at you suggestively. "What?"

"You've got a crush~!" He muses without hesitation, his speech only slightly slurred as he rests his chin in his palm, propping himself up on the bar and handing you the money with his free hand once his drink is served. "Shakky used to look at me the same way. So, who is it? Shanks, Katakuri or Rosinante~?"

Alright, you'll admit it; he's pretty observant for an old drunk. 

With a sigh you subtly glance over your shoulder at the closed door leading into the backroom, a small hum rumbling in your throat as your gaze shifts back to the silver fox sat before you. 

"I don't know if I'd call it a crush--"

"Hah! And I wouldn't call myself old!" The man chuckles to himself, only pausing when taking a mouthful of his beer, though his face falls serious once the liquid is swallowed. "So, you like Donquixote, huh? What are ya gonna do about it?"

Nothing.

"I'm not sure of my feelings yet so I won't act upon them." You feel so confident in saying this.... until you realize how unconvinced Rayleigh looks, that is.

"Mhm. And when will you be sure? When he's got another woman on his arm?" Something about those words and the image that comes with them strikes your chest, your teeth gritting on impulse as an uncontrollable frown etches itself into your features. Harsh. "Take my advice, girl. You better strike while the iron is hot and judging by the way that boy glared at me when I asked for your number, I'd say it's pretty damn hot."

Huh? Rosinante glared at him?

"But, that's just an old man's opinion." He finishes whilst bringing his drink to his lips and rapidly chugging it down until there's nothing left, causing your eyes to near-leap from your skull. 

You'll be a dead old man if you keep drinking like that!