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It's Marcus' birthday and while he's been old enough to drink back home, it's the first official night he's legal here in D.C. It's not that big of a deal; he doesn't really like bars. He'd rather stay home to drink, but Michal insists on taking him out to celebrate and “pick up chicks”, as Michal tells him.
Marcus knows that it's utterly pointless for him to go out - he has all the charm of a Swedish meatball without the sauce - but he goes so he can at least say he went. Not to mention he can laugh at Michal's impeccably European-style.
"Can I help you?" the bar tender asks. He has reddish hair and bright blue eyes. He's the best dressed guy in the place, but Marcus wonders if his clothing is a uniform or if he chose them himself.
"Um, I would like a whiskey," Marcus asks, nervous. He speaks English fine, but he doesn't know American bar etiquette and he's not exactly going to ask Michal for tips.
The bartender laughs, but it doesn't seem mocking. "You got any I.D. there?" he winks.
Marcus is quick to pull his driver’s license out, handing it to the bartender to prove that he’s of legal age. Once again, the bartender laughs. "So, you're not from here, eh?" he asks.
"What gave it away?" Marcus asks with a shy smile. "I am old enough, though. Twenty-one, it is my birthday!" he adds.
"Well, happy birthday, Marcus. I'm Brooks," the bartender says, handing back Marcus’ license. “Just so you know, you should probably use your passport if you want to get served,” he informs Marcus with a kind smile.
“Oh, I didn’t bring it,” Marcus forwns.
“No problem, I believe you. Just remember it next time,” Brooks says as he pours Marcus’ drink. "So, how do you like Washington?"
"It should be better now that I can drink," Marcus laughs, blushing a little.
Brooks just smiles back. "Well, I'll look forward to seeing you around here more often, then." It's normally not Brooks' style to flirt with customers, particularly male customers that could get him thrown on his ass for even thinking about, but Marcus seems different. "You been here long?" he asks.
Marcus tells Brooks about the University exchange program that's had him stuck in D.C. for the past year and a half, with another two years still to come. Brooks hears Marcus’ entire life story before he realizes that the young Swede has probably never been hit on before. Brooks thinks it's probably for the best – Marcus is barely legal and looks far too pure for a quick hook-up.
Suddenly, Marcus’ friend comes back up to the bar. "Moj, I can’t believe you man. I bring you out here and you spend the night drinking alone!" he scolds.
"Not alone. See? That’s Brooks!" Marcus points with a sloppy smile.
"Michal," Michal introduces himself. "We'll probably be on our way. Let me pick up his tab," Michal says. Brooks shrugs, handing him the bill. "Three drinks? Fucking lightweight!" Michal shakes his head, laughing as he scribbles something quickly on the receipt before laying it down with cash on top of it – cash for the drinks and a pretty nice tip, Brooks notices.
Brooks waits to take a look at the bill until the two head out of the bar. He can’t help but smile as he reads the name ‘Marcus’ with a phone number underneath it. On second thought, Brooks thinks, maybe a pick up wouldn't be so bad. Who knows, maybe even more than that…