A/N: Some of the lines here were taken from The Most Complete and Most Useless Collection of Pick-Up Lines. So, kudos to the guy who compiled them. And, no, I didn't go to that site for reference. Honest! I didn't!


"My name is Karl, but you can call me 'lover'."

That was the first pick-up line that came to mind when I saw the pretty little thing with sad doe eyes. I glanced at the girl quietly nursing her--what the hell? Is that mineral water? Who the heck drinks water in a damn bar without puking or passing out beforehand?--water while staring blankly out the large windows and into the street.

Really, how stupid can a pick-up line get? Not to mention dangerous. If that cutie turned out to be a tranny, then he'd know my name and he would easily be able to say that Karl tried to pick him up. I'd go to hell and back before I let my name be involved with some gender-confused mental case again (I'd rather not discuss it). I'm pretty well known around these circles and I don't need something like that ruining my rep. Don't get me wrong. I don't usually mind people like that, what bugs me is the idea of people like that with--in the less common, but more meaningful sense of the word--me.

So no name dropping before hearing the mineral water girl's voice, at least. I need something as direct, but not revealing of my identity.

"I am a magical being, take off your bra." Sure. I'll use that when I want to get slapped. No. Back to the drawing board.

"Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?" Too romantic. I don't need something that cheesy. Besides, I'm not romantic at all, so I wouldn't be able to back that up.

Maybe I should work with something more basic. "Hey, you come here often?" Yeah, that would probably work. I know she's not a regular at the bar scene, else I would have seen her before and she wouldn't be drinking damn-lame-ass mineral water. I mean, seriously, who does that? I could tell her that if she was uneasy, I could introduce her to some of the girls. I could tell her which drinks are good. I had several options in case the line worked.

Really, beyond the pick-up line, things pretty much work out the same way. I had everything mapped out in my head.

As I sauntered over to the bar and to her side, I reassessed my options for the best pick-up line and decided that simple and basic was still good. But, it wasn't my night. The moment I got close to her, she stood up and turned, glass of water in hand, and bumped right into me. The water splashed all over my shirt and pants.

"What the fuck?!" were my first words to her. Smooth, Karl, real smooth. What the heck kind of a first impression is that?!

She frantically reached for bar napkins with one hand as she raised the other as an attempt at pacification. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry, mister! Sorry. Sorry. Sorry," she repeated her apology several times as she handed me the napkins so I could wipe myself dry. As the bits of the napkin clung to my shirt, I realized that drying myself was about as useless as my pathetic attempt at choosing a pick-up line.

"I'm sorry. I was being such a spaz," she said more slowly, more sincerely, turning her pretty doe eyes at me. In the darkness of the bar, they were black as night, making me think of dark places and secrets and secrets that take place in dark places.

"It's okay," I assure her, balling up the useless paper mulch in my hands and tossing it over to the counter. The bartender frowned at me when the napkin wad bounced into his work area.

She looked at the general direction of the door, "I was about to leave. I really don't belong in this place," she explained softly. "So, if you're sure it's okay..."

Now, when you're dealing with women, one must really pay attention to the little details. Girls like it when you notice the hints they drop, whether consciously or unconsciously. I took advantage of her words. "How can you not belong in this place? It's a bar. Everyone belongs in a bar. It's a place to belong."

Okay, so that didn't come out the way it was supposed to.

She blinked up at me, confused. Dammit, she's using those pretty eyes against me. "It's really not my thing," she tried to answer.

"Lifestyles like this are like people, you have to get to know them a bit before you decide whether or not you like them," I philosophized. Where did I get that crap? I'm not really sure. I think a guidance counselor told me that, but I think he was talking about Citizen's Army Training or college or something mundane like that.

She smiled at me brilliantly. She really is very pretty. The smile makes me want to hug her just to check if she really is as warm as her smile makes her out to be.

"Oh, I see..."

She seemed genuinely thoughtful for a moment, and then she looked me in the eye with those pretty doe eyes of hers. "You come here often?" she asked.


"Yeah. My name is Karl, but you can call me 'lover'."

And then, she laughed and shook my hand.


Something that has a relatively happier ending than usual. ;-)

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