12210/Nurse Night Out

Nurse Night Out
Date of Scene:	21 September 2020
Location:	Luke's Bar, Central Harlem
Synopsis:	Nurses hang out and get drinks from Lester.
Cast of Characters:	Claire Temple, Jane Foster, Sandra Billings, Bullseye

---

Claire Temple has posed:
Sunday night wasn't usually the Luke's night but, somehow, neither Sandy, Jane, or Claire actually had to work a double today. It was like a gift from a strange god or an alignment of the planets. Before any of them were grabbed 'just for a few extra hours' Claire suggested they escape to Luke's. It'd be quieter than some sports bars, with fall football season on, and there was always good food.

She pushes the door open, wincing and hoping there isn't an unexpected crowd. A few people have the Giants game on the screen in the far corner, but it's better than most places. "...I knew he wouldn't have it blaring everywhere. Come on... Let's get a table before our luck runs out. I'm now expecting some four car pile up to happen outside any minute. We can't get this lucky so many times in a row." Still in her scrubs, Claire leads the way inside.

Jane Foster has posed:
Tonight, her phone was on silent. Jane had the fortune of being an oncologist, so she wasn't as apt to get called in for emergencies, but the few who would call her are favorites. So IF something came up, they could reach her. Everyone else was out of luck. This was a night off.

She's broken out a newer pair of jeans and a lightweight orange and cream sweater for the occasion. "That one looks open." Remarks Jane as she gestures and heads for the open table. "I am totally game for some football screaming, beer, and wings. It's a seasonal splurge, my diet will forgive me. It's not like I eat the rest of the week, unless coffee is considered a well-balanced meal."

Sandra Billings has posed:
"I'll be honest with you, Claire, I wouldn't care if there was a four car pile up. I'm keeping my phone turned off." Sandy says as she slumps down carefully into a chair, then lets out a tired noise in her throat. "I did eighteen hours yesterday into this morning. I am not giving up this night for anyone." Plucking a menu up, she scans through the items to find something that will fill her hunger pangs. She is also starving having slept through the lunch hours.

"I am sure this city can keep itself together for one night. Just one. If not, then we need to do a better job of hiring." She rubs a hand along her face, then waves for the waitress to catch her attention. "I can pay by the way. I've soaked up so much OT I'm doing well for a change."

Bullseye has posed:
    VROOOOM-VROOM-VROOM!

    The obnoxious, unmistakable rattle of a motorcycle engine can be heard from outside of Luke's for a few seconds before coming to an abrupt stop. About twenty seconds later, the front door opens, and a fit man in a late-thirties saunters inside wearing a form-fitting leather jacket, brown cargo pants tucked into his black combat boots, and a simple, black beanie with a red motorcycle helmet tightly under his arm. He removes his aviator sunglasses and clips them on his collar, taking up a space at the bar and blowing out a hard breath. This reeks of a routine.

    "Fuckin' Giants, Phil," he exclaims to the bartender. "They break my heart every god damn time." Phil, grinning and drying a glass, grabs a stein from underneath the bar and fills it with Guinness. He asks the man if he wants the volume turned up as the man in the beanie just shakes his head, emphatically. "Don't bother, I can hear the booing from here."

Claire Temple has posed:
"..I... won't complain about you taking the bill. I'm still on overtime from last week but after the mess with those two kids..." Claire took a whole day off after two teenagers ended up dead on her watch. Honestly, they came in nearly dead and no one had much hope, but she did. And then things went bad, she had two codes, and it was a rough week. The brunette still looks a little sleepless after it all, but that's not a rare look on her face.

She also keeps two phones. The normal hospital phone, but there's a thin, old flip phone of a burner that remains burning a tell-tale hole in her pocket. Probably the girls have noticed it before, though she always passes it off as 'for emergencies' and says nothing else. It's their night off, but that phone is still in Claire's pocket. Then the sound of that bike comes and a alightly wry smile crosses Claire's full mouth. "...two to one, it's a guy in a green beanie. And he bitches about the Giants." The guess is made with tones of someone who has grown fond of another person. And, sure enough, she's right. "... There you go, Jane. Someone to scream about football with. Sandy and I will drink. You go have fun."

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane Foster isn't the sort to question people and their personal business but observe it closely all the same. Professional habits and all. Patients are always terrible about telling you all of the important information. Jane gives a sharp tut towards Sandy over the tabletop. "You paid for me last time, so I should be offering to pay for you. How about you grab food, I'll grab drinks?"

She glances over towards Claire at her premonition and then looks to the door as the guess comes walking through the door. "Screaming doesn't seem like it's going to help at this point. Acquaintance of your's, I take it? Or a regular?"

Sandra Billings has posed:
Looking over towards the man as he enters, Sandy squints her eyes, then looks back to the two girls at the table. Her brows furrow some as she hunkers a bit into her seat. "I don't know, I think he looks kinda .. of the rougher crowd. I probably pulled a bullet out of him at some point." She says as she props her chin up. "Sides, I'm a Giants fan, which already makes him a bad guy." She drawls out teasingly to her two friends. "Jets suck."

She orders a beer for herself and a basket of boneless wings with BBQ sauce. "I don't mind picking up the tab, Jane. You just got a new place so you're probably on fumes anyways."

Bullseye has posed:
    Was he here for the football? Let's say yes. Was he here strictly for the football? Of course not. You see, the last few weeks, Bullseye has seen Claire on a strictly one-on-one basis. Risky? Maybe. But high risks mean high reward, and so far, they've paid dividends. From what he's gathered, the Night Nurse's defenses were down. Hell, she might even LIKE the bastard, for all he knows --- but a person by themselves can be very different from that same person out with their friends, making THIS particular night all the more risky. But Bullseye doesn't fear risks --- especially when you never miss.

    Out the corner of his eye, he's keeping watch on Claire and her stupid, little nurse-bitch friends. Girls' night out? Jesus. He leans backs in the chair, dexterously flipping a coin from one knuckle to another while watching the game, but after a while, his glance is aimed towards Claire's direction. He feigns surprise and offers her a tiny smirk and a nod before rolling his eyes at the sound of another flagged play on the television. Returning his gaze to her, he then motions to her two friends and pops his eyebrows before giving her an "a-okay" gesture. Is he saying they're cute?

Claire Temple has posed:
"... A little of both?" Claire responds to Jane's question of him being an acquaintance. "Met him here weeks ago. Local guy. He's... nicer than he seems. Aren't they *all* rough around the edges, from up here?" Claire asks, but then tone of her voice is warm enough that it's obvious to anyone who's known her a while, and goodness these two have, that she's actually growing fond of the man across the bar. "He...talked me through the other night, with those teenagers? And didn't totally fumble the play. So, I'll give him that."

Her eyes roll at Lester as he gives an a-okay gesture and she just shakes her head a bit more dramatically, a glare from her dark eyes daring him to come over and say that himself. But then she forces her gaze back to the girls and gives a bit more of a smile. "Sorry. Sorry. Girls night. Not work. God. I haven't *actually* watched the TV, football game or not, in... a month? Maybe two?"

Sandra Billings has posed:
"Nicer than he seems?" Sandy says as she props her chin up in the palm of her hand. "He's giving us the eyes. I'm not sure if he's trying to fuck us with them, or if he's mocking us." She says as she eases back into her chair, letting out a sigh. She's the 'big' girl at the table. Obviously she isn't going to have the highest of self-esteem. "But, yes, no work talk!" She flails a hand at Claire.

"I don't watch TV unless it's The Bachelor. They're on like season forty or something. I don't know. This season's guy is really hot, but he's dumb as a sack of rocks. Those girls are thirsty."

Bullseye has posed:
    Alright, Lester --- showtime. Naturally, the worst thing he can do right now is try to come off as smooth. There are three things in life that are 100% guaranteed --- death, taxes, and the fact there's nothing more pathetic than a guy approaching a group of women with his try-hard hat on. He whispers something to Phil and ends up receiving a pint of Big Wave. With it, he ambles over to Claire's table with a soft expression on his face before lightly placing it in front of Claire.

    "With the way this game's going, I don't know how much time I've got left on this earth, so I figured I'd do the right thing and give you that drink I owe you." He then turns to Claire's friends, and with his best Bronx charms, addresses them as well. "Ladies, I'd offer you the same drink, but that'd be weird for a stranger to do, so hey --- I'm Lester. I see you're with my favorite nurse, so lemme know what your name is and drink of choice so y'all don't get left out the fun."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Eh, men. By the time you polish off the edges, you're polishing their headstone." Jane mutters at the table with a grin. She'd also ordered a buffalo chicken wrap. Quick and easy eating tonight. She does point a finger towards Claire. "Bonus points for football pun."

"TV's mostly background noise for me. I tend to put some series on with all intentions of watching it and then pass out before the second episode is done. But, if ten bucks a month gets me to sleep after a shift, then it's money well spent. It just makes it really hard to make lunchroom chat when I have no idea what's actually going on."

As the man arrives to their table, she looks up with that practices and professional smile that reassures the dying while simultaneously telling people spouting Google remedies where to put it. "Depends on if its a good drink. If it's a terrible drink, then yes, that'd be an awful idea. The name's Jane, and whatever pale ale's on draft."

Claire Temple has posed:
The pint of her favourite IPA gets Lester a long, curious look, and that wry smile again, "Look, if you bet on this game, Lester, that's your own damn fault. You know the Giants are shit and that's not gonna change... If they hand your ass to you, I promise, *none* of us are gonna put it back together." But the tone that Claire's giving him is one of fond amusement. She's not all that worried he's going to have his ass handed to him by a bookie.

She then looks back to Sandra and Jane, choking out a bit of a laugh at the thought of the Bachelor. She half shakes her head, "Couldn't pay me to watch it. Thirsty enough without staring at some himbo on television. Last time I bothered with the TV, Matt was over and we were supposed to be watching a movie. You know what we did? We slept. We fucking *slept*. So, you're in good company, Foster." So, she's on good enough terms with Lester to talk about other men in front of him. Maybe they were actually just friends.

Sandra Billings has posed:
"Sandy." The plump woman says as she lifts her brows upwards towards Lester. She gives a glance over to Claire for a moment, clearing her throat loudly. "Not sure why .. the world needs to know what you're doing with who and what bed." She trails off as her lips give a curve of a smirk. Over to Lester, she says, "Just a beer for me." She says with a simple clear of her throat.

Bullseye has posed:
    Matt, huh? Good to know. Lester's good with the poker face --- at least in this instance --- and grins. Claire talking about other guys in front of him is either a really slick attempt at a test, or proof her wall really was down. Either way, he smiles at Claire's company and gives the both of them a nod. "Well, seeing as Metro General's finest is perfectly fine with me gettin' fitted for cement loafers, maybe I'll just focus my energy on your friends here. Pale ale? You got it, Jane. And Sandy wants a beer, perfect. Nothin' like keeping it simple."

    Lester heads back to the bar to put in the order, to which Phil meets him with a snicker. "You got no chance, Woody," he says. "Yeah, yeah," Lester replies, "Just pour the damn beers before you get a peanut to your frontal lobe."

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane Foster returns the nod with an easy dip and an offered, "Thanks. Nothing wrong with simple. Life's complicated, my drink shouldn't be."

And as the orders are taken off to be filled, Jane looks back towards Sandy and Claire with a twitch of a grin at the corner of her mouth. "San', you were just talking about the Bachelor. If people didn't care about that info, those shows would never survive. It's human nature to love dirty laundry, just not when it's their own. Then again, the internet proves some people enjoy airing that too."

Claire Temple has posed:
"You made those cement loafers yourself, Les." Claire calls after him, not willing to let the Bronx boy get the entire final word. Then she's looking back to her friends, a bit more relaxed than she's been in some time. Jane's defense of her comment and the banter back about the bachelor gets an amused smirk, but she doesn't interfere in the debate. She just takes a good gulp of her drink that the guy at the bar already dropped off.

"And, in my defense, I never said the guy was in my bed." After a year of dancing around this, he still hasn't been. Claire should get an award. Instead, she just gets a deep, slightly frustrated sip of her beer, and looks back over her shoulder to Bullseye as he collects those other drinks. "And see? Told you he was nice, if a bit rough around the edges."

Bullseye has posed:
    It isn't long before Lester returns with the drinks. Placing the glasses down on the table in front of Sandy and Jane, he merely smirks, choosing to just let the ladies have their night. He wasn't going to barge into this conversation to make his presence known, not even a little bit. After all, he didn't have an objective in mind tonight, per se. If anything, tonight was a night to continue to show how normal and perfectly innocent his intentions were. It's Lester. And Lester wouldn't hurt a fly.

    "There you go, ladies," he says with a smile. "Enjoy your night. If you need me, I'll be weeping over Saquon's torn ACL." He turns to head back to the bar, but walks just a touch slower than before.

Sandra Billings has posed:
"Still doesn't mean he's nice, just because he's buying us drinks." Sandy says with a smirk before Lester heads back towards their table. "Though I want to know more about this Matt guy later." Once the man returns, she gives him a quick smile, then reaches out for the beer. "Thank you."

She shoulders Jane gently for a moment, then takes a long slug of it, draining half the glass. She is obviously not much of a sipper and looks like she can handle her booze. She's built like a tank after all.

She gives a nod of her head at the mention of Saquon's injury. "I had him on my Fantasy team." She sulks a bit.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Thank you." Jane holds up the pint glass with a grave tip of her head. "To Saquon. It's too early in the season yet for anyone to be injured, and ACLs are a bitch." And with the salute done, she drinks. Because that is the appropriate thing to do.

She turns a grimace towards Sandra. "Ugh, that's rough. I've never done fantasy football. I can't even keep track of what episode I fell asleep on most of the time, let alone remember to put in my picks for the week. I just live vicariously through the pools at work and occasionally chip in on a bet if I'm feeling especially full of myself that week. Given the state of my bills, you can likely guess at how successful I am."

Claire Temple has posed:
"Thanks, Lester... you're a dear." Claire calls after him, but she's not going to demand he come join their girls' night either. His touch with the beer and disappearing to the other table? That seems to have landed just perfectly. She nurses her beer a bit more slowly, relaxing as she just remains content to listen to the people around her, in the comfortable place that is her favorite bar, with some of her favourite folks. Jane's commentary about the her bills gets a long look from Claire.

"Shit. Maybe I should buy the next round. I didn't just get a house and I'm not letting go of that rent controlled apartment until they pry it from my cold, dead fingers." She didn't have the nicest place in Hell's Kitchen, but it was a sizeable one bedroom she can afford on her salary. They've all been there at least once before. "And you remember Matt. Lawyer guy. The one that was laid up about six months back? I know I've bitched about him more than once. But...he brought over sancocho and tostones so... I guess I'm not mad. Right now." He brought over not just food, but her *favourite* food.

Bullseye has posed:
    ...and she wasn't biting. Good.

    Heading back to the bar, he continues sipping at his beer. Time was starting to run out, and not on any limit other than Bullseye's --- not Lester's --- patience. Then again, this wasn't a job. Not a contract. This was a project. A flower to water, nurture, and cherish.

    The most perfect and beautiful black dahlia.

    Enjoy your night, ladies.