Disclaimers:
The characters and setting of ER are the property of NBC, WB and Constant C. The characters and settings of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel are the property of Joss Whedon, Twentieth Century Fox, and Mutant Enemy

Ambience
Coda to Day of Days
by Lin

Ambience I

The bar's a hell-hole. Literally. Down in a sub-sub-sub-basement and frequented by us. We're the hell part.

I never meant to fetch up here tonight, but at the other place we go to, you might have to endure Ugg-Qn'oth the Child Eater's karaoke Lady in Red, and, well, what's a girl to do?

Sometimes you can pick up a snack.

Plus they keep nibbles at the bar.

*******

My usual stool at the bar. My usual large vodka. Out of habit I gaze forward, behind the optics, to the mirror that isn't there. Still haven't figured out how to get round that one. Movement to my left. Guy. Early twenties. Smart casual. Ex-military. Doesn't have the metabolic problems of the other drinkers in here. Blend in. Make conversation.

"What a dump."

"I kinda like the ambience."

Small talk. Sports. College. We stay off work, family, religion, politics, species, the usual detritus of life. And we're not big on names either. The vodkas are hammering only one of us. His love-life runs away with the conversation. I start to wilt. A bowl of nibbles slides down the bar my way, and by instinct my attention shifts to focus on its contents.

" .... but she doesn't love me."

By this point I've tuned out. Hey, it's not like I'm getting paid to listen to this kind of stuff anymore. A second bowl makes its way over to me and I pick at the nibbles some more. Yummy.

He makes a pass. A half-assed plan occurs to me, briefly. Instead I tell him he's not my type.

"O-neg?"

He thinks he's so cute.

"Male." I scowl just enough for him to realise.

He takes it well. He excuses himself and stumbles off to a table where there's a brunette I haven't seen before, but so I'm new in town that means nothing. I can still recognise her for what she is. Five minutes later they're all over each other. Get a room already.

The two of them leave.

One of them comes back.

Well. That was unexpected.

***********

Ambience II

The bar's a hell-hole. Literally. Down in a sub-sub-sub-basement with hot and cold running cockroaches, and a floor like moody velcro.

I never meant to fetch up here tonight, but it's 3 AM, they're still serving, and, well, what's a girl to do?

*********

I slump onto a stool at the bar. My usual large vodka. Out of habit I gaze forward, behind the optics, to a mirror that isn't there. Good. I don't want to get used to my face looking grey and beaten. Movement to my left. Cute guy. I'm old enough to be his mother. Smart casual. Ex-military. Ha. I'm MIA myself. Doesn't have the dermatology problems of the other drinkers in here. Blend in. Make conversation.

"What a dump."

"I kinda like the ambience."

Small talk. Movies. Music. We stay off work, which doesn't leave me much to say. And we're not big on names either. The vodkas are hammering both of us. His love-life runs away with the conversation. I start to wilt. There are bowls of nibbles on the bar. Olives would be good. One bowl slides down the bar my way, and my attention shifts to focus on its contents. Actually, I stare. They're not olives. They're in Brownian motion. I can't identify them. I'm not squeamish. I stare some more. Things like that would have to taste of formaldehyde. Stands to reason. I slide the bowl right back.

" .... but she doesn't love me."

You and me both, I agree silently, you and me both.

He makes a pass. I tell him I don't think it would work out. This time I tell him why. It's not just the vodka.

He snorts and mutters something into his drink that I can't quite catch, although it sounds like "Another one!". What?

He takes it well. He excuses himself and stumbles off to a table where there's a Chinese girl I hadn't seen earlier, but that means nothing. I can still recognise her for what she is. Five minutes later they're all over each other. Get a room already. They stand up. He sure is wasted. My bet is she'll just go for his wallet. Do I warn him, I wonder. When I turn round, it's too late.

The two of them are leaving.

One of them comes back.

Well. That was unexpected.

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