Work Text:
Maya stared at the jar. “What is this for?”
The bartender – Scooter’s mom, apparently, though she didn’t look very old – smiled sympathetically. “That’s a tip jar, honey. For extra special service, if you catch my drift. No – wait, I don’t mean that. But you can tip if you want.”
“Tip?” Maya was still getting used to life outside the monastery.
“Money. If you like the service, you put in a little extra to show your appreciation.” Moxxie winked at her.
“Oh… ok.” Maya plonked her pack on the bar and pulled out a handful of the notes she’d found on her way to Sanctuary, covered in shit and blood and gods knew what else. There were a lot of them, with different numbers and colours and degrees of beat-up-ness. She’d never had to handle money herself – the Brothers always took care of that stuff. She picked a bright orange note with $50 emblazoned on the side. “Is this enough?”
“Honey, you haven’t even ordered a drink yet. Why don’t you save that for your bar tab?” Moxxie was a hard-headed businesswoman, but not absolutely heartless.
“Oh. Er, ok. Um. I’ll have a drink.” Shit. What were you supposed to drink in a place like this? “A beer.”
“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down much, sweetie.” Moxxie proudly swept a hand around to indicate the wide variety of booze on offer. “I have over a hundred varieties and brands, including pilsener, pale ale, brown ale, golden ale, sparkling ale, Scotch ale, steam ale, IPA, wheat beer, stout, kolsch, porter, bock…” Maya’s head was spinning.
“Er. Do you have the beer they make at the Order of the Impending Storm? It’s on Ath - “
“Athenas? Hell yes. A woman of discriminating taste! That’s top of the line, babe.”
“I grew up in the monastery. Um, I pretty much just came from there.”
Moxxie’s eyebrows almost lifted her hat off. “Good lord. Don’t drink anything else here, hon – it’ll rip your insides out.” She bent and pulled a black bottle with a gold label out of the fridge under the bar . “That’ll be a hundred and twenty bucks, babe.”
Even Maya, unfamiliar as she was with shopping for herself, pulled up short at that. “Are you sure? I just bought a Sublime Rakehell for forty-five dollars. It has corrosion.”
“You’re a loooong way from the monastery, honeybun. And a word to the wise? Don’t buy weapons. As soon as you head out, you’ll find something way better in a shitpile.”
Maya handed over a bunch of notes and hoped it was enough. Moxxie counted some out and gave some back, then pulled a tiny bottle opener out of her voluminous bosom, snapped the cap off with a ‘pfft’ and slid it over the bar. She didn’t offer Maya a glass, and Maya felt silly asking for one. Her first sip tasted like home, and tears pricked at her eyes.