Bar Keeper Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

Denver, Colorado Satan’s Bar The Next Evening Frank ‘Cole’ Porter poured out another shot of whiskey, scanned the bar quickly to see how the vibe was going. Nothing was unusual or alarming, so he flashed Vixen a grin as she picked up the tray of drinks for the bachelor party over in the corner. “Everything OK, sweetheart?” he asked her. “Those boys behaving themselves?”

The bartender was a lady, brown hair, wearing a white top and her face was kind of milky, like she'd been working all night. She stopped in front of the counter and smiled sweetly at Matteo. "Hello, what can I get you"? She asked professionally but sweetly, he looked behind her at the cabinet filled with different drinks, he wasn't a beer person and definitely not a martini, he was more of a scotch person, his eyes landed back on her and her smile was still strong as ever. "Do you have any whiskey" his baritone voice sounded and she turned around looking at the counter he just scanned and she faced him back, with a sad smile, she shook her head

Apparently, it's known for its mean drinks and fiery decor—which makes sense, given the name. I hang my head low as I walk to the round bar which houses three bartenders, though I'm sure with the amount of people here, they've barely done any work. "Welcome to Inferno, pretty lady. What can I get you?" One of the bartenders, a blond, spike-haired dude with one dimple asks. I lick my lips, my eyes going over the menu hung behind him before clearing my throat. "Um, a whiskey?" I say the first familiar thing I see.

she ordered over her shoulder before telling the barman called Barm an to pour her a rum. “Make that two,” Bash ordered beside Amira. The rogue tilted his head to the side. “A new face. Pretty one,” Barman said. He was a large man with a big, bent, once-broken nose and a shaved head with scars running down it and his face. He looked scary, but he mostly kept to himself like a typical rogue. He was only at the guild, so he had a roof over his head. “Um?” Bash answered.

A little bulky with a clip holding my polo shirt together, but it would do in a pinch. “Hi and welcome to The Cunning Ham!” I said brightly, ready to get back into the role play. Probably came off a little too brightly, but I had a wardrobe malfunction to overcome. Boston inhaled through his nose sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face again before turning back to the bar. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here with me, the hot mess he’d told me I was when I interviewed with him previously. “What kind of wines do you have here?”

The bar is closed since it’s only noon. “I swear, I feel like it lately.” “When is Barbara coming back?” A loud voice calls from the storeroom. “I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m not dead yet.” Fleece rolls her eyes. “Of course not.” Barbara sweeps out of the back room in all her glory. A woman in her sixties whose very essence screams ‘New York.’ She’s carrying a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka to replenish the stock behind the bar. “How you doin,’ Delia?”

he smiled at me “I've been busy with work. I'd like to open a tab. Would you do that for me?” I quickly changed the topic because these bartenders could be nosy and no one knew who could be an informant for those media mongers. “Of course, Mr Cross. I'll do that in a second but first, what drink would you like to have first?” He asked and I pointed at a bottle of martini on the shelf behind him. “A glass of martini will do”

Two scarred passers-by spoke to each other. “Not really. I was with my woman all night.” another said near him. They both stopped. One looked over to the bartender. “Big-TEE, the usual.” They both walked up to the bartender. Big-TEE, the name of the leading bull sized bartender nodded as he turned to his shelves behind side picking some liquors.

The bar had Ralph's bar boldly written at the front, just above the door. I walked in and was immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and vomit. There was loud music coming from the large speakers placed in the four corners of the room. I walked to the bar and one of the bartenders asked me what I wanted to drink. "Whisky, please," I replied. He stared weirdly as he provided me with the drink. I thought he would have recognized me if he was at the funeral a week ago. A large bearded man sat to my left, "he must be the bouncer," I thought to myself.

"See, there's a new place over there! I think it's a bar, but it will be fine, more than good for us to hide." They entered the bar, that was dimly illuminated, and got close to the bar. "Hey, you two seem like you just saw a ghost!" The bartender joked. " I think I know what you need." The man in his early forties, with a very black mustache arranged with the tips curled upwards, and a gracious smile, turned away from them for a moment. He came back to the counter with two glasses of what looked like very dark beer, except for this one was dark greenish.