Tape has a minion!

Talk loudly to be heard over the Techno

WAKE THE DEAD - Public Alcohol Lounge

"Get out, the pub is closed," came a voice from behind the bar.

"It's me," said the intruder, as he ignored the voice. There was a grunt, and then some groaning, before the bartender emerged from his pit of booze, teeter tottering on his feet. He was wearing a badly fitting suit, which had likely been worn overnight, as it was rumpled and worse for wear. For some reason, there were dying flowers pinned to his lapel.

"Ah," said the bartender, then, "...What are you doing here this early in the morning, Dylan?" There was accusation in his voice, and he was glaring past the bar lights, apparently having trouble seeing Dylan. Likely blurred vision. No wonder. The tequila bottle held loosely in one arm was almost empty. Obviously the man hadn't inbibed the whole thing on his own, but Dylan knew that it would never have gotten that low while left on the shelf. It was just strange, because usually, like any sensible person, even the bartender avoided Tequila, which was a notorious beverage quite capable of its bad reputation. Even Dylan generally avoided it.

"Alex. It's noon. What kind of pub owner passes out in his own bar?" asked Dylan. He hoped that Alex didn't expect him to play bedside nurse. Then again, this could be funny.

"A very, very very... hmm," muttered Alex, pausing to look down at his bottle, before continuing, "VERY drunk one." Apparently.

"I've decided," said Alex, with an energetic confidence usually unfamiliar to someone hungover, "I'm going to theme the pub. Día de Muertos!" He leaned against the counter and knocked over a napkin dispenser.

Dylan struggled to remember his high school Spanish lessons. "Day of... Day of the Dead? Huh. Isn't that Mexican Halloween for family ghosts or something? Oh- Ohhh..." His voice trailed off. Suddenly the drinking made a lot more sense. Earlier this year, Alejandro had mourned the passing of his grandfather, who had raised him as a father. The two had been close, and it was obvious to any of Alex's friends that the man had not dealt with this death easily. While the neighborhood was out trick or treating the night before last, Alex had likely spent that time with his Grandmother where she lived in a nursing home. Dylan wondered if Alex's roommate even knew where he was.

Alex ignored his buddy's poor comprehension of the holiday. "Mi Abuelita and I went to visit Abuelo's grave. She collapsed. Now she is in the hospital," Alex informed a surprised Dylan. Then the despairing barkeep grinned through grit teeth, and cheerfully shook the nearly emptied bottle in the air. He added with an sarcastic lilt to his voice, "When life wants a party, it makes cocktails out of tequila."

Dylan was silent after such news, and he didn't even comment when Alex reached up behind the bar cupboard and pulled down two shotglasses. He poured a drink for each of them. Tequila. Okay... Maybe just this once. Dylan cautiously picked up the shotglass. Alex clinked his glass against the one in Dylan's hand, and paused. Dylan downed his shot without flinching. His testosterone levels would not allow him to be the first to back down in the face of a challenge. But Alex was staring into his shot, and instead of drinking it, he shoved that one over, too.

Dylan squinted, and his eye twitched a bit as he gulped down the second glass. He wasn't a lightweight. It was said that an Irish man could outdrink anyone, but Dylan knew that good Scott like himself could outdo any Irishman any day. He just wasn't so sure now about how he would fare against Alejandro when they were both fresh. It was amazing the man was still coherent. "This is supposed to be a time of celebration, not mourning," said Alex thoughtfully.

Alex set the tequila bottle in the bar sink, and rubbed his hands over his face to scrub off the grime of sleep. Dylan almost didn't catch it when Alex whispered into his hands, "I will honor you, Papa."

Name: Alejandro Torres
Age: 27 (December 3, 1968)
Ethnicity: Puerto Rican, African
Education: High school graduate
Occupation: Owner and tender of a small pub
Collects: Tape cassettes, girls' phone numbers
Food: Sustained by alcohol and pumpkin spice
Hobbies: Going to clubs and dancing like a loon
Talents: Guitar, charisma, ability to hold liquor

History:
When Alex was a toddler, his mother left him with his grandparents so that she could continue her life of addiction, and she never came back. Maybe she thought of him as a hinderance, or perhaps she just wanted a better life for him. She never bothered to tell anyone her reasons, just like she never bothered to say who his father was. Alex was left with a lot of questions as a child, but his grandparents taught him to look to the future and not be hindered by the past. He remembers his mother when he smells gardenia perfume, bleach fumes, or whiskey, but when he thinks of parents, he thinks of his Abuelo and Abuela. They raised him well, got him through the trials of youth, and even helped him save up for his first truck. When his grandfather died of a stroke, his grandmother's body and memory began to deteriorate from depression. Without her husband, she claimed to be too tired for life. She moved to an assisted living residence, and left Alex the house she had raised her daughter and grandson in. Alex visits her frequently, even at the cost of passing up a hot date from his bar:

"I would love to follow you home, babe, but I've a bottle of memories to share with mi Abuelita tonight."

Personality:
Very easy going and easy to get along with. He would like to always goof off and be lazy, but working hard has been permanently instilled in him by his grandparents. He has strong family values, and is loyal to a fault. If someone he cares about asks him to do something, he will do his best to help them, or at least help them help themselves.

Upbringing:
After graduating high school, Alex worked a series of customer service jobs. Sometimes he worked both a day job and a night job just to maximize his income. He had a goal that he was serious about: to own a bar. It was important to him that he own the property so that he would not have to rent his shop space. Eventually, he managed to save up and buy a place on Market Street, in the shopping hub of his quiet town. He started a pub with an extensive bar selection that he is quite proud of. He was persuaded by the local minors to open it up during the day as a hang out space, which meant that he had to learn to work a coffee machine, but after 6pm he mercilessly boots anyone under the legal drinking age out the door. It was suggested that he add food to his pub, too, so he is currently looking to save up and hire an employee who can cook.

Current Life:
On his days off, Alex likes to hit the local clubs. He loves dancing, mostly because he enjoys impressing the ladies and bros with his moves. He believes that he is a breakdancing champion, and admittedly he can look impressive under strobe lights with some glowsticks in hand. As a lover of music, he tends to wear the ears of anyone who will talk band and solo artist history with him. Sometimes it is only the disc jockey who shares his interests. To make the odd ends meet, and to fill up his empty house, he rented out the spare bedroom to a local DJ. Alex was delighted at first, until he found out that the famed DJ Skill, aka Gannon Mede, was actually a quiet homebody by day. Gan teaches at the school near Alex's house, which is why he agreed to rent the room. Alex hopes that he can convince Gan to indulge in his wild side more often. The two seem to be content living with one another, either way.

Notes:
Addicted to anything flavored with pumpkin spice. Lately he has been branching out and adding actual pumpkin and pumpkin seeds to his meal plans. At least the vegetable adds some nutrition to his poor diet of fast food and snacks.