James Lancaster had the most terrific headache. The chair he was sitting in, a real chipendale with plush dark red leather fabric and an arched back, suddenly felt like a pile of sharp rusted objects. He was leaning forward over the wide mahogany desk, elbows on the polished wood, and rubbing his temples in an attempt to sway the ache. Unfortunately the ache seemed content with being inflexible and unmovable.

The 63 year-old wouldn't be able to take much more of this. He was getting too old for this sort of nonsense. Sure he could easilly tell you what the most popular techno dance mixes in the past week were, and how many gold chains fifty cent wore to the MTV movie awards, and even what the champagne tasted like at John Travolta's fiftieth birthday party, but when it came to four hours of auditions, he felt like he was left in the dust. He raised his head, white hair combed and cut just as neatly as ever, and looked over to his left.

Bruno, one of his bodyguards, watched another applicant set up for their turn. James had never much liked the name Bruno, but figured it was the perfect name for this 6'2 chunk of muscle.

"Bruno," His crisp english accent rang out over the clanking of the blushing teenager in front of the desk, "Could you get me my pills?" The bodyguard nodded and left without a word.

"How many bands, singers and bartenders have auditioned so far?" He asked another man standing to his right. This man was thinner and somewhat shorter than Bruno, but was ounce per ounce just as intimidating.

"About twenty-three, Mr Lancaster, and about twice that to go."

James smiled with even white teeth, relishing in the hoplessness of it all. The teen who had been trying to set up this entire time suddenly went pale, mumbled that he had forgotten something, excused himself, and ran off in near tears. James closed his eyes, thinking that this club would never get off the ground, even if it had anti gravity boosters, and said those dreaded words that the people waiting outside swallowed nervously at.

"Next."

Well, here Gabriel stepped up. The computer software job paid more than this ever will, but he needed jobs in between to fill up his boredom. He needed to do -something- and this arrived to a thought of mind.

Taking one steady step in front of the man, he schooled his expression to be neutral, but his eyes, a seemingly purple color, burned with an anxiousness just the same.

Stuffing his hands within the pockets of his black trousers, bunching up the black, long-sleeved, button-up, satin shirt around where he placed his hands, Gabe tried to place himself at leisure (As much as one can).

"My name is Gabriel Blacey and I'm applying for bar-tender."

"That's all very nice, Mr Blacey, but could you please get on with it?" He asked impatiently, the headache knocking a much needed chip off his shoulder. James gestured towards another table pressed against the wall to his left. It was covered in all possible types of alcohol, glasses, fruit, olives, stirrers, plastic swords and small umbrellas.

"Show me something new. And remember the club is going to be called 'The Cathedral' so please," He paused, watching the young man with steady blue eyes, "Make it Holy."

The white-haired man had had quiet enough bad dirty martinis for the day. Besides, for every club he set up he always gave it a particular drink. Something new and different. Who knew rum, peach juice, and an orange jello shot at the bottom could put his famous london club (It was called 'Number 9') on the map.

Just then Bruno came back in, carrying a label-less pill bottle in his hand, which he carefully set down infront of James before going back to his previous position.

Gabe shrugged a little as he walked over to the bar, looking up with the smallest traces of a grin on his face. "Well, then, if you want me to keep it 'holy', I'll choose this drink appropiate to the theme. It's a 'Holy Flying Minou Fuck'."

Anyways, now that was over with, he grabbed a high ball glass, and scooped some ice into the glass, dousing in an oz. of malibu, one and a half of peach schnapps, 4 ounces each of pineapple and grapefruit juice, taking a small sword to stir it.

Well, who said Gabe didn't drink? Well, he -did- go to college after all so he had some odd drinks stored in his head.

Anywaysss..

Once he was finished with, he also filled another glass of water, just for the pills and carried them over, setting them both on the desk of this older man. "Completed and hopefully to your taste."

"Hopefully," James answered, looking over the drink critically. He was ashamed to find that he hadn't heard of this drink, which brought both intrigue and mistrust in to the situation.

He took the bottle placed before him and removed the lid, taking one small round white pill with no writing on it whatsoever. He pushed the water aside and took up the ball glass, swallowed some of the alcohol along with the pill.

"Not bad," He replied, taking another thoughtful sip of the drink, and watching Gabriel with obvious judgement in his eyes, "If you're hired I might change the name."

Gabriel chuckled. "Too vulgar for 'The Cathedral'?" Gabriel leaned back some, critically eyeing the bottle of pills, remarking more to himself in a wonder. "Always thought medication was never meant to be taken with alcohol." He shrugged in a 'whatever floats his boat' manner.

"Would you like me to make you something else? Or maybe of your preference of a drink you think that is difficult to make?"

"It isn't. This is ecstacy," the sixty-three year-old said while looking through some papers that were lying quietly under his arms. He removed a sheet of paper with simple fill-in-the-blank format and slid it towards Gabriel with a pen. At the bottom it asked for one original recipe for a drink.

"Fill that in, don't forget your personal information and we'll get back to you as soon as possible," He continued in a business-like manner, taking the rest of the drink in a few swallows and handing the glass over to Bruno, who took it and dissapeared god knows where.

Gabe almost snorted. "And so casual about it." It was funny.

Anyways, he bent over, quickly filling it out with the recipee that was really too simple to even screw up. In the neat script of his, he looked it over and then passed it over as well as the pen. "Then, thank-you for your time and happy job finding."

James watched as Gabriel obediently filled out the form. A muscle in his set jaw jumped as he smiled slowly, accepting the paper and placing it back with the others.

One born every second.

He had the recipe, and now he didn't need to hire anyone.

"Right, of course," He said, giving the young man a nod, "Thank you for your time."

"Don't do drugs, stay in school."

Gabe realized he had been duped when he saw that slow smile come across. Not a benign one, but a 'I screwed you over'.

"Oh, Sir,-" With a straight face and plain expression in his eyes, the mage's fingers traveled to take the pen, "I filled the wrong phone number out. I'd like to change it, please."

He just hoped the man wasn't toooo cunning.

James' expression was one of ardent mistrust and irritation. The drugs wouldn't work for another ten to fifteen minutes. He forced a small smile and picked up the pen. Youth today...Such idiots. He brought the paper back and crossed out the previous phone number, then he waited patiently, looking back up at the young man.

"Well?" He asked, raising an eyebrow slightly, "What is it, then?"

The fact was that James didn't know that this young nuissance had quite perceptivly drawn the plot. He was just going to fill the number in for him.

Gabriel sighed inwardly and thought about it for a moment, raising an eyebrow when a slightly dim light bulb lit. "Though, that recipe, it's a star drink at a bar a few streets over. I could have done some of my own, but I figured you knew this one and liked it."

He shrugged a little, "Anyways, Leave the number that was there."

James instinctually stood up, throwing his chair back. Now that the desk wasn't obstructing the view, one could see he was in good shape for a man of his age. No over-powering muscles, of course, but no sagging belly or chest. The bodyguards, or so they were assumed to be, didn't move a muscle.

Lancaster stared with unmistakable coldness towards the young man, his teeth gritted behind closed lips.

"Get out," He finally demanded, slowly taking up the paper and crushing it into a ball with one hand.

Gabriel rose his eyebrows at the sudden anger, a slow grin crossing his lips. "As you wish. Oh, do give me a call if you decide to hire me!" He even went as far to reach over and pat his shoulder before turning away again. Oh, the fun of it all, even if this was thin ice.