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Owner Pose
Elsie Since the Second Chance opened, Elsie Bell has been run ragged. Right now, as the owner, she's also the only employee. Mornings are spent in the basement working on her brews. Afternoons are spent opening up shop and running around the kitchen to get a stew or some other hearty meal option ready for the evening rush. Dinnertime is spent running food to tables, and the late nights into the early mornings are spent pouring drinks and flirting with customers. Then she falls asleep for a few hours, gets up, and does it again. However, she's making caps hand over fist, and it won't be long that she'll be able to hire someone to start helping her. Soon, anyway. For now it's just her.

Elsie is here today wearing a white blouse with a manderin collar left open, tucked into a black and white striped skirt. Her red hair has been pulled up into a simple twist at the back of her head. She wears a little makeup, but completes her fashion with bright red lips. Often she can be seen wearing a blue apron around her waist.

She's behind the bar now, slinging a few fresh brews for some Kings who've come in for a cold one. "There ya go, gents. Have a seat wherever you like." Mr. Vegas' voice croons from a nearby radio.

It's common knowledge already that the Second Chance sells booze, chems, and food.
Conway Conway drives his shoulder blades into the swing-style saloon doors, removing his black felt hat by the crown as he steps inside. He's dressed in typical rancher/farmhand garb, the knees of his jeans dirtied from crouching on the ground all day. "'Scuse me." Conway turns sideways to shimmy past others walking through the bar, trying to get to the front towards the barstand.

He glances at the busy-body with the red hair, Miss Elsie Bell. He holds his hat up in the air while trying to look into her eyes, an attempt to grab her attention. "Ma'am." He shoves past a few more people and soon enough gets behind the back of one of the people sitting on the stools infront of the bar. "I'm looking for the 'eh-.. 'coordinator' if'ya will." ... "Whoever is in charge of the bar supplies, y'know."
Elsie And there's Elsie, smiling broadly to the cowpolk that wanders into her saloon. "S'me," she says cheerfully. "Elsie Bell, sir. Owner and ... well, pretty much everything else until I can hire some help." She chuckles good-naturedly, tilting her head to the side as she regards the man. It seems she has no problem holding his gaze with her own big, hazel eyes. It's almost forward, the way she just settles in there and watches him.

"What can I do for you, Mister....?" she trails off, not quite sure how to address the man of yet. But it sounds like he should be addressed properly. It sounds like he might be looking to do business.
Conway Conway holds his hat against his chest, listening to Elsie. "Oh, ehm! Conway Brigham, ma'am." .. "Pleasure to meet'yer acquaintance, Miss Bell." He lightly fans himself with the brim of his hat, trying to catch a cool breeze on his forehead. "I've heard through the grapevine that I can get some supples 'ere, and I s'pose the rumors are true."

"Things have been a bit caddywonk over at the Drake Ranch and the horses got found-.. ehm, laminitis in their feet. I need something to put them to sleep while I work." He tries not to bore the nice lady with the details of horse sickness, flashing a wry smile. "Do you have anything, ma'am?"
Elsie At the man's fanning of himself, Elsie gestures with her head to the corner of the bar. He can walk down there on his side, she'll walk down on hers. But over there it's less crowded, and there's a seat for Conway to settle into should he so desire. While he makes his way, Elsie gets some clean water from a pitcher and pours half a glass. Clean water, after all, isn't always easily available. But this is on the house, for it sure seems that there's business to be done here. She sets the water out in front of him and then dries her hands.

"Drake Ranch, you an employee of Aidan Drake or his sister, or is there another Drake altogether besides? Can't always keep the number of that lot straight," the redhead admits with another bright, beaming smile. She still makes eye contact through the conversation. "At any rate, I could give ya some grain alcohol to mix with their food, but I imagine that'd make 'em sicker than anything else. There's some chems that'd do the job, but a horse is a big animal so you'd likely need quite a bit. Far as downers, I've got a bit of calmex, but for a proper sized horse ya might need as much as five to get 'em down. Doubt even then they'd sleep, but they'd be docile. I can sell you enough for one horse now, and see about gettin' ya some more. Unless of course," she grins, a mischievous and playful sight, that. "...this ain't just for horses, Mr. Brigham?"
Conway Conway is beckoned to the corner of the bar where it's less cramped, sitting down on a stool. He grabs the glass of water in his hand, nodding his head once. "Thank'yuh ma'am." He presses the glass against his chapped lower lip, taking a sip before setting the glass back down on the barstand. "Yes'm, you've got the right Drake family." He shakes his head at the thought of giving the horses grain alcohol, picturing a staggering diseased horse in his head.

"Ma'am, whatever amount of Calmex you can provide - I'll take." He chuckles lightly, taking another sip of his water, but about spits it out when she suggests he 'uses'. "Oh - no ma'am, no no." He chuckles nervously, "Just for horses. I don't even let an aspirin touch my system, ma'am. I just have some booze every now and then. Thas'all."
Elsie "Mmmm, pity," Elsie says about the man's confession for a lack of chems. "S'as good a way of settlin' down at alcohol, I'd recommend you give it a try sometime. There's as much difference in a chem user and a chem fiend as their is in a sipper of beer and a dirty street alchie." Of course, Elsie herself is a chem fiend, but her level of addiction is so severe that she needs the stuff just to get about in the day. That, however, is neither here or there.

"I'll go in the back and scare up what I can offer, and you tell me how much more you might need in the future so I can have a word with my suppliers, hmm? It's five caps a hit, and I've got five to sell right now. For another two caps I can throw you in a fresh brew while you're waitin'." She gives him a pretty, broad smile.
Conway Conway belly-laughs, setting his hat on the barstand next to the glass of water. "I ain't got nothing against users, ma'am. It's just not my thing, or atleast right now it ain't." He rubs the underside of his chin, trying to think of an estimate of how much he might need in the future. "Well, on account of having some draft horses that are 18 hands high, I'll need alot more in the future I reckon."

Conway fishes his hand into his trouser pocket, digging around. He counts out thirty caps into his palm before dumping them in a pile onto the barstand. "For the stuff, a drink, and your time, ma'am." He lets a cordial smile peek through before speaking again. "If you can try and gather fifty next time, I'm your huckleberry. I'll take'em right off'yer hands."
Elsie Elsie's brows raise at the number that the man requests. "S'quite a bit. You must be havin' a hell of a time with those horses of yours." Or he's secretly the biggest Calmex addict in the wastes. Elsie makes a quiet, private note to speak with Stockton about this later, but for now? She's a business woman making business deals. She nods. "Let me see what I can do for ya in the next week or so, hmm?" In the meantime, she reaches under the bar for a fresh bottle of beer, which she opens with a hiss and sets it in front of the man. The caps are swept up and tucked into her skirt pocket, and she'll disappear into the back. When she returns, she's carrying a small canvas bag, out of which she pulls five vials of purple liquid, which she sets out on the table for Conway with a grin. "That'll suite for now, then? What's the best way I can send someone t'find ya when I've got your order?"
Conway Conway chuckles lightly, "They're all sick. I'm just trying to get them out of pain and let'em heal." He pushes the glass of water further to the side with the back of his hand, making room for the bottle of the beer. He grabs it by the neck and takes a large swig while she's in the back. He watches her return, quickly wiping his mouth. "Thank'ya very much, ma'am."

He takes his own canvas bag out from around his shoulder, depositing the purple vials inside. He takes another sip of his beer, emptying it. "The best way to reach me is to head north into Avalon, and leave a note with the blacksmith that'yer looking for me. Just give me a time I can stop by, a place, y'know." He slowly stands upright from his stool, "A week is fine."
Elsie "Well, I'll see what I can do in a week. You've got some real expensive tastes for your horses, mind, so it might not be the easiest thing in the world to get ahold of. I can't guarentee the same price, either; it all depends on what my suppliers wanna sell their next batch for, so." Elsie nods once more at the man as he rises, and she gives him a final smile. "Feel free to mull about, enjoy yourself, Mr. Brigham. Got some stew and fresh bread going in the back, just hollar if you'd be interested in a meal." She does have customers to get back to, but with another nod she silently fares him well before turning to take another drink order from an NCR uniform who looks like they've had 3 too many already, this early day.
Conway Conway waves the side of his hand, "No thank'ya, ma'am." He pushes his stool in, throwing his cloth sack over his shoulder again by the draw string. "Any price will do." He smiles before shimmying his way out in the bar towards the door, placing his hat on his head before exiting.

He unties his horse, leading it out further into the street before mounting it. He trots off.