Avery walked slowly down to the bar, looking at unfamiliar faces on the way there. Tonight was usually the bar's biggest rush. A group always came in, the day before the full moon. They were such frequents, Avery had marked each of these days on the bar's calendar as [b]RUSH[/b]. 

She walked into the bar from the back, heading through the area where bottles and ingredients were stored. She picked a few bottles out of the fray, knowing some of the favorites their frequents had, and with a small bounty in her hands, she headed into the front room. She saw Ryan, and smiled weakly at him. "Ryan, is the special up on the chalkboard yet?" Her voice was frail and polite, her eyes looked like they had been fully bloodshot just moments ago. 

She set the bottles under the bar, and fingered each one, counting them. Then, on the far corner of the bar, Avery found her apron. She tied it around her waist, and checked each pocket to make sure she had her tools. Then she walked through the small side door labeled employees only, and went out to take guests orders. 

Like any waitress, she worked for her tip. She talked casually to all the patrons in the bar, smiling and laughing along with them. She didn't judge people, and when they were looking glum she asked what their problems were. She did this all around the bar. Dancing between tables and the kitchen and the bar, asking for drinks, preparing meals when she had the time, and giving people the special treatment. All the while she had questions floating in her head, [I]who are these people really? Why am I so nice, but I never get any friends? Why am I so lonely?[/I] Yet, she still did her job with a smile that never seemed to falter.