[center][h2][b]Cornerstone Bar[/b][/h2]
Just before noon[/center]

There was a dull thud and a rattle of glasses as Rowan set the last tray of clean glasses behind the bar, readying for the afternoon. Despite not being open for more than four hours, she had been here for more than two already. Last night had been hectic, with Bobby calling out sick and John missing in action, leaving only Rowan and the owner to handle things, so she had come in early today to finish the cleaning and set up. The whole place smelled of PineSol and wood polish, the refrigerators were stocked, and she herself had finally finished the dishes. The last few finishing touches for herself were next.

Despite being a lot less classy than Mochavine, and [i]much[/i] less flashy or modern than the night club, Rowan had set her home here at the Cornerstone, and took a fierce pride in the place she worked, maiking sure that it felt like a second home for her regulars (although not home-y enough that they felt they could break the rules). To that end, she had sought approval for a number of ornaments and other assorted accoutrement to spruce the place up. Not a [i]lot[/i] had met with approval, but enough that she had given the old place a bit of a polish up without removing the essential character. Her pride and joy was a limited edition vinyl record of some very old jazz guy (she didn't actually listen to jazz that much, but the owner had loved it) carefully framed and hung just behind the bar. She puttered around for a few minutes, dusting, lighting a bit of incense, and making sure coasters and napkins were stocked all over. Not that the place was large enough to take long, but she put extra care into making sure everything stayed the same every time they opened. No surprises for her regulars, that wasn't what they were here for!

Glancing around, Rowan realised she had run out of things to do. Smiling to herself, she made her way out the front and sat on the curb, basking a little in the sun and closing her eyes whilst she fished a cigarette out of her apron pocket. Although the summer sun was making her black apron and pants heat up, it felt good to be warmed up like this from time to time, though not as great as in winter. She lit her habit-stick and settled in for a nice round of people watching, something she did as often as she could. With her ability to read people's faces, it was easy enough to make up stories for how someone's day was going, and imagine what drink would perk them up. This was the activity that caused her to lose time most afternoons, and this one was shaping up to be a lazy enough Sunday for it to happen again.