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There's something, or rather, someone who has caught Beatrice's eye over the few weeks she has served her, and then observed her, in the bar she works at. She's pretty, likes gin too much, and very energetic with a low tolerance for alcohol. She's just arrived, and ordered her usual, their hands linger again as she pays and she gives her the change.
There's a little stage over the far side of the bar, for karaoke, and Beatrice can only watch as the brunette jumps up to the stage after downing a double gin, and not at the man's hand as she gives him his change. By instinct, her fingers brush against his palm, and knowing she has succeeded, she lets go of the coins. Ava selects her song, and bounces her leg to the beat, holding the microphone in her left hand. She comes in just a fraction early, but she grins all the same as she tries her best to sing in her not-so-sober state.
She's dancing across the stage, and that's when Beatrice walks around to the other side of the bar counter. She continues to jump, sing, try and get the other punters involved in her antics, except everyone can tell where this is going apart from her. Her left foot steps too far, over the edge of the stage, and down she tumbles.
Beatrice squeezes through the other drinkers and she stands just by her head and meets her drunken gaze. She has a stupid grin plastered on her face, even more when Beatrice helps her up, while she slurs that her name is Ava and she wanted to impress her because she's cute.
"You wanted to impress me?" Beatrice's lips quirk to the left in a slight smirk that she tried not to let slip.
"Yeah, uh..." Ava looks at the ground in shame.
"Beatrice," she tells her, recognising the 'uh' as one people always do when they realise they don't know someone's name. "I am impressed, actually. You have guts, to do that. I could never."
"What's something you could do?"
Beatrice looks at her, first her eyes, then her lips. She swallows, plucks up the courage, and kisses her. "This."
Ava stares at her, eyes wide, and she stutters and stammers, before giving up on talking altogether.
"Better?"
"Much."
"Then let me drive you home," Beatrice offers, wrapping her arm around her as she walks, and Ava staggers in multiple directions, forcing Beatrice to steer her the right way, the way to her car; a ride full of Ava's pure joy at the songs on the radio, and Beatrice can't help but join her in singing along, although Ava's drunk vocals are much louder and energetic.