🍾 | James Ogilvie

Saying the bar was loud would be an understatement. People were pressed shoulder to shoulder- knocking over half empty pints of beer and shouting over each other just so they could have a conversation with somebody equally as drunk standing next to them. James hated it. It was too loud, too disorderly, and certainly not the kind of place he would want to celebrate any of his birthdays. Let alone his 21st. Why Javadi chose this...play-ground for fully functioning adults to be where she celebrated her 21st was something James would never be able to understand.

He leans against the sticky bar top, his fingers curled around the pint of Guinness that Doctor Abbot had bought for everyone in attendance. 'When in Rome.' Was all he had said. James' scowl deepens. 'We're not in Rome. We're in a shitty Irish Pub that can barely maintain the cleanliness of their bar.' He watched as a bartender swept ice cubes that had fallen onto the likely unwashed counter into a glass. He swallows thickly and places the pint of Guinness he had been nursing for the past 30 minutes down onto the bar top with a soft clink.

"Ogilvie-" He feels an unnatural heavy hand rest on his shoulder. "-loosen up." A very drunk Whitaker mumbled, his body slouching next to the empty space beside him. He smelt like gin and- odd as it sounds- Doctor Robby. James fingers rap against the bar-top. "I'm loose enough." He mutters back- watching as Whitaker reaches across him to nudge the pint of Guinness closer to the younger man. "It'll help you wash the shift away, y'know." Whitaker slurs- a heavy finger tapping against the glass before his hand falls to his side-finally realizing James isn't as amused about being here as he is. "D' you get in on the betting pool, at least?" He asked, slowly wrapping a hand around the end of James' drink and pulling it closer to himself. James' brows furrowed. "Betting pool?" He echoes. Whitaker nods sleepily. "On who you-" He hiccups. '-you think is gonna flirt with most people. My money is on Abbot."

"Which was a stupid choice-" Joy hums from behind him, her hands in her pockets- her gaze flicking from James to Whitaker as they slowly turn to face her. "-my moneys on Princess." She slips in beside them, a hand coming up to nudge her glasses higher onto her nose. "I-I thought the bookmaker couldn't bet too.." Whitaker slurred- his brows pinched as he raises the glass to his lips and takes a long sip. Joy huffed weakly. "S' not like I'm hoarding insider information." She muttered, gaze flicking up towards James'. "..Nobodies put any money on you yet, though." He feels his shoulders tighten. "S' that so." He tries to sound dismissive, instead, all he sounds is defensive.

Joy nods, her fingers tapping against the bar top as her gaze flicks to the few different beers they have on tap. "..F' you take someone home first then you get the entire pot." She adds with a weak shrug. Whitaker perks up. "Thats only for med students and residents. Doctors have their own betting pool" She says, tilting her head to the side. Whitaker slumps back with a heavy pout.

James teeth grind together, his fingers curled against each other so tight he's half convinced he might dislocate one. "it'd be a great way to loosen up." Joy says, gesturing weakly towards his intertwined fingers. "..Maybe you'll stop being such a prick after sharing your bed with someone."

James slams the last ten dollar bill he had in his pocket down in front of her "If it'll get you to shut up, I'll do it." He said firmly. Joy looked unamused, a scoff leaving her lips as she reached up and slid the bill into her pocket. "Good luck Ogilvie. You'll need it." She muttered, giving him a once over before pushing herself off of the bar top and disappearing into the crowd of other people that swarmed the crowded building. Whitaker hiccuped beside him. "You ever picked up somebody before?" He asked- swiping away some of the foam his last swing of Guinness had left on his lips. James jaw clenches. "..Course I have." He strains. It's a lie. An obvious one- judging by how Whitaker does a poor job of hiding his awkward smile. In reality the closet James has gotten to touching another human was in the cadaver labs he did back in college. He's never been on a date, never kissed anybody, never had sex, and never had the time or patience to flirt with somebody.

"S' easy." Dennis said- sliding the now empty glass towards the bartender. "Just..y'know. Talk to somebody." James feels like breaking his own fingers. Whitaker turns around- gaze wafting over the 60 other people who fill the bar's common area. "W-Whadda 'bout them?" He said, lazily gesturing to a person sitting alone in a booth. James follows his hand and stares at them for a moment. "..What about them?" He asked- a lick of nervousness creeping into his voice. Dennis grunts and nudges him towards the booth. "Go talk to them, is what I'm saying. Buy them a round. Try and win your money back." The older man fills in the spot James had been standing in and turns towards the bartender, waving them down to no doubt order another round of shots for him and Trinity.

James stands frozen for a moment- his eyes locked onto the person in the booth. He could just slip away. He didn't have to do this. It's not like anybody was watching him, right? His gaze flicks around the floor of the bar. Joy is leaning against an exposed pillar, her arms crossed over her chest and her gaze boring into his. James feels himself straighten. Alright, so maybe he is being watched. But...but thats fine. Flirting can't be that hard, right? It's just...talking to somebody. He can talk. Most of his job is talking anyway. He inhales sharply, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides as he pushes his way through the crowd. He half misses the pint of Guinness. At least it'd give him something to do with his hands. He feels bile rise in his throat as he slides down into the chair across from the person Dennis had been pointing at, his hands awkwardly hovering over the tabletop for a moment before he finally lets his palms rest on the sticky wood. His voice is more squeaky then he remembers it when he starts to talk.

"So...you...uhm.." He feels a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. "..you come here often?"