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[P3] Not Open Yet
Tying her hair up Paige moved behind the bar at P3, stooping down to grab a box of straws. It was a wonder they still owned the bar, the lack of time actually spent taking care of the place was seriously giving Paige second doubts that they were still owners. Setting the box onto the counter, she still pushed a few other things around before she finally stood up. Exhaling she opened the box and set it where it belonged with the rest of the bar items.
Paige wondered where her sisters were, but knew better than to actually ask out loud, since the answer wouldn't come from any of them. Phoebe was off with Coop, and Piper was somewhere with Leo and the boys. Which left her, alone, in the house and in the bar to 'handle it' which was how Piper had so nicely termed it. So that's what she was doing, handling it. Very well too, it was just different without anyone actually checking up on her.
The door opened, causing her head to tilt a bit in curiosity, "We're not actually open yet. I mean sure the door is... which means I really fail at keeping security in this place." Sighing Paige knew that if she was just leaving the door open she was asking for trouble, her hand reached for whatever was close -- just in case -- which happened to be a bottle of vodka. Her other hand she kept empty, in case she could just use her gift to throw a table at them.
Paige wondered where her sisters were, but knew better than to actually ask out loud, since the answer wouldn't come from any of them. Phoebe was off with Coop, and Piper was somewhere with Leo and the boys. Which left her, alone, in the house and in the bar to 'handle it' which was how Piper had so nicely termed it. So that's what she was doing, handling it. Very well too, it was just different without anyone actually checking up on her.
The door opened, causing her head to tilt a bit in curiosity, "We're not actually open yet. I mean sure the door is... which means I really fail at keeping security in this place." Sighing Paige knew that if she was just leaving the door open she was asking for trouble, her hand reached for whatever was close -- just in case -- which happened to be a bottle of vodka. Her other hand she kept empty, in case she could just use her gift to throw a table at them.
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He hadn't been expecting anyone there, at least, not at this time of day, but apparently someone was, and he'd startled them quite a bit. As he came around the corner, he spotted said chick with a bottle of vodka in her hand. A rather hot chick, in fact. He held his hands up slightly, and gave her his best charming smile.
"Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to spook ya. Just lookin' for the owner of the place, a -- " He paused for a moment, before looking at the name he'd written on his hand. " -- Piper Halliwell?"
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Folding her hands she rested them on the bartop watching him, mostly because of all the random people to have walked into P3 at least he was attractive, which usually meant demon. Which would be unfortunate, but that was the job.
Not that she got paid for it. Or even thanked for it that often. Still the job was all birthright and no gratitude.
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Raising an eyebrow she eyed him again, "If you're FBI I'm Piper Halliwell." Which... she really knew she shouldn't say since if he was FBI she might just land herself married to Leo with kids.
Folding her arms across her chest she watched him, "The FBI has reviewed a lot of the cases around here already. If they were interested again, I'm not sure why you'd stop at a bar that is supposed to be closed at the moment. Especially if you really are looking for witnesses to question."
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"You caught me. I'm actually a writer." It was the next best story he had, and he figured that this one might go down a little smoother. "Me and my brother, we're writing a book about weird occurrences across America? Turns out San Francisco is chock full of them. I just use the FBI story, because for some people it goes down a whole lot easier."
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Lifting an eyebrow she figured she'd at least be polite, "Can I get you a drink?"
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"So, Mister Writer Not FBI, do you have a name? Or is this all part of trying to keep your book top secret?"
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Besides, if she said the FBI came around a lot, he didn't want to get caught with his pants down and her having his last name.
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Leaning her elbow to the bar she watched him curiously, "What makes you think anyone is going to tell you the truth anyway? The chance to be in a book might bring out the kooks."
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Smirking she raised an eyebrow, "Does that mean they can blame moving my hair dryer on ghosts now?"
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It was one thing to talk to someone that thought they knew what they were talking about, but there was something a bit more valid to the tone he was using. It wasn't the usual skeptical trying to disprove, it was the believer trying to make her see. Not that Paige needed that of course, but it was still a bit odd to see that so openly in someone else.
"Aren't you afraid you'll end up in a psych ward?"
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He paused again, before giving her a bit of a grin. "Besides, people believe in God, right? Why believe in the good stuff and not consider the possibility of the reverse?"
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Which was so very true in her case, three folds true in fact, "So if all of it is real, then why just write a book exposing it all? Why make everyone else freak out and build a world of panicked people distrusting their neighbors more than they already do?"
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"Yeah, well -- who's actually gonna believe some book that some supposed kook on the road wrote?"
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Which... Paige was at one point.
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Not that he was actually writing a book, or that he was about to tell her those books were about him and his brother. It was nothing like that at all.