I walked to the sink area near the jukebox where the dishwasher rang a little bell, telling me that I had more work to do. I opened the machine and took out a Tom Collins glass. The thing was still a little wet, so I took a rag and started hand drying it so there wouldn't be any water spots. I could feel someone's eyes recording everything I was doing. It was coming from Irish Red.

I looked over and smiled. She seemed a little surprised to see that I noticed, but she smiled back. I turned to her, still cleaning wet glasses.

"Need anything, sweetie?", I asked.

"Nah.", she answered before taking a small sip from her ale. She then placed an elbow on the bar and rested her head on a fist.

"Why didn't you call the cops on that creep?", she questioned.

I put a now-dried Old Fashioned glass back on the rack a few seconds after she finished her sentence.

"Well, he wouldn't have done anything. I could feel it; he meant no harm."

She grinned at my confidence and hit me with another question.

"How'd you know that? He could've been some sociopath for all you know."

Irish Red made a valid point; he could've pulled out a weapon and threatened to kill me or kidnap me on the spot, but. . .

"You can tell someone's personality by the drinks they order.", I answered.

The thin, lanky woman then raised an eyebrow. She took the small black box out of her black and red checkered shirt's pocket and grabbed another cigarette. This time, she pinched the filter, which made a peculiar crunching sound. I put a half-dry shot glass down and got my lighter for her. I lit her up again and went back to drying.

"How does what they shovel down their throats tell you about their personality?", she interrogated as she exhaled a stream of thick smoke. The smell of rich tobacco and minty menthol started to fill my lungs. Occupational hazard.

I gave the most honest answer I could.

"He ordered a 'Sex on the Beach'; a bit tart, a bit strong, a bit sweet, and a bit sour. He's fairly mixed in his emotions, but in the end, he just wants someone to love, as suggested by the name of the drink. Actually, for him, it seems like he's trying to find the person who once loved him because of all that ice."

The woman then burst out in laughter at the depiction of the stranger. There wasn't a way for her to tell if I was right or not if I used him as an example. To further prove that I wasn't being insane, I decided to change my subject.

"Then, let's take you for instance, Samuel Adams Irish Red."

After her fit of laughter, she gave me a little smile as she took another sip from her bottle. It seemed like she was very entertained.

"It's a very malty beer. Also very nutty. It leaves a slight chewy feeling in your mouth, but that's after the carbonation tickles your tongue a little. At the very end is a small, roasty finish."

Irish Red looked at me intently, wondering if my alcoholic fortune telling was actually accurate or an elaborate lie.

I continued with my predictions.

"It means that you're a very sweet, easy-going person, as told by the large amount of malt. Even though you are really mellow, you do have a lot of jagged edges because of the nuttiness in the ale. Perhaps those insecurities have something to do with your performance at work."

I noticed that she gave me a pretty large grin, which signified that I was right on my mark. She took another sip from her personality.

"You like getting under people's skins, teasing and tickling them. And after you're done playing around, you get chewed out by them. But in the end. . ."

I paused to take a small bowl of peanuts to a customer a few seats from the woman. I went back to the glass rack and took a Tom Collins glass for yet another customer. I finished my description before I went to the other side of the bar.

"You make up for it with a warm gesture."

With a large and embarrassed smile on her face, she crossed her arms on the bar and put her head down. Her cigarette was still burning in the nook of the ashtray.

I finished a regular's order and fulfilled a few more before I went back to the young woman. Her cigarette was crushed, and her bottle was empty. She watched me as I approached her side of the bar.

"So?", I asked, "Did I do well?"

"Ha! Yeah, you did!", she laughed. "Extremely well."

Curiously, I wondered, "Who was the person I described?"

"Marceline. Marceline Abadeer.", she stated.

After she finally told me her name, Marceline got up and took a few bills out of her wallet. She placed them on the bar, and from what I could tell, it was more than enough for her beer and tip.

"Keep the change", she demanded. Marceline then gave me that half smile of hers and said with her smooth and sultry voice,

"See you tomorrow."


I got bored and made another. They had to have started from somewhere, right? It's still kinda friendship-like though.

I really like bartending.

I do not own any rights to Adventure Time or the initial Bartending AU.

Check out itoshiteru's blog for the cute AU though!