Chapter Text
The speakeasies in town tended to be fairly well hidden. Each bottle of booze stored away in the basements of other seemingly innocent businesses. The one that was on the grid tonight happened to be running under the guise of a barber shop, only people with the special word of the week allowed to venture down the stairs to the dimly lit room, clouded with the smoke of cigarettes, and a small stage in the back where a jazz band played. At the moment it was only 6 pm, the club was for the most part empty, only a few people scattered about, just out of work, enjoying a drink, smoke, and the play of the band. Among those people- the ones who helped run the place. The bartender behind the counter, tall and lean, blonde hair swept back, only a few pieces left to frame his face, bright amber eyes and sun-kissed skin. Freckles lightly dusted his cheeks. A sharp jaw and matching smart wits, an even sharper tongue. He could be trouble if he wanted to be, but he knew better and for the most part knew to keep his thoughts to himself.
On the other hand, another blonde seated at the bar, a drink in one hand and a cigarette under the counter in the other, casual- much less strict with himself. It was obvious to anyone who met them that they were brothers. The one at the bar with his hair neatly combed to frame his eyes, bright bold red. He had more freckles than the elder, more color to him; more time in the sun. This one was more clever- but at the same time more careless, speaking without a thought of what the consequences may be. Currently rambling on and complaining while his brother cleaned glasses; taking advantage of the slow time in the club.
"I don't understand why we cant crack a window or somethin'-" the red eyed boy huffs, receiving a glare from his brother. "I mean.. i do- yeah. but the smoke in here's so damn thick i can barely even see the stage!" He grumbled, "all these assholes with their cheap ass cigars and shit..." he brought his hand up from under the counter and took a drag from his own- rather cheap- cigarette; his brother rolls his eyes. "I mean, not sayin' I don't smoke too but fuck em'- I decide whats gonna kill me, and like hell if its gonna be their shitty second hand smoke."
He hummed, obviously pleased with himself, the other brother- Dirk- rolling his eyes. "youre gonna get in trouble one day talking too much, Dave" he sighed, setting a glass down as he heard a voice call out.
"Strider!" He and his brother both raise a brow and look in the direction of the voice, an unreadable frown forming on both of their faces. Responding both at the same time, distaste evident in their voices.
"English.."