Hally's Juices

Welcome to Hally's Juices!

[Hi, welcome to Hally's Juices! Here on the first floor, we've got your entrance in front of you! Two sets of double doors, alongside the freshening entrance of air-conditioning, filtering, and purifying atmosphere!]

[You'll see yourself at a reception area, where two people behind a counter will be out there to guide you to a table! You can request a booth, a seat at the bar, or a table of your choosing! We'll either guide you or make you a seating!]

[If for some reason, you need to wait for someone, no need to fret! With cushion-y chairs, outlets for charging your devices, and the artificial heat of a cozy campfire, we've probably got you covered with the waiting room to the side!]

[I'm sorry if we can't please everyone, though. Here on the first floor, in the corner is the huge counter of the bar that which usually Hally and Suzy run! They tend to keep watch on the first table because that's where the trouble happens. 

[They shake the drinks, they make the drinks, and they'll serve the drinks in any fashion they'd feel might entertain you a little. Off to the side are television screens, and high definition speakers to project you a high quality view of the second floor's stage! So you know, you won't be missing out.]

[There's also some screens seen around on the sides, you know, so the first floor's completely given sight of the second stage if they feel like checking out the performance. We've got stairs on the other corners, but don't go through the door behind the counter. Some people have never gotten out, I hear.]

[The menus have everything. Period.]

While the video was playing, Hally was busy at work behind the trusty bar, the back of her head leaning against the shelf of her own beer rack. Her legs were extended outward to the counter, leaving her suspended in the air and without leaving any contact with the floor itself.

In these cases, one might expect her to be a human, who looked a little less than 13 from the height, the female preteen face, and the dress of a goth princess one might find in a cartoon show. People say that she rocks the silver-sparkly hair, a long swath of fibers that would've reached to her waist had it not been for her ascension, but she wouldn't know. She's just a robot.

She'd rather not ruin the floor with her step-stippery-do, no sir. She liked this wood flooring, as she had worked hard to construct this building's interior from the wood pillars she used to support the roof down to the sound-proof mats she worked hard to synthesize to match with her fancy pine-wood floor. 

She would make this bar into the cowboy cabin-like setting and apply her distinctive sci-fi touch even if it killed her. She chomped on an apple, though it seemed more monotonous than anything. Hally wasn't exactly an expressive fellow.

[Second floor, welcome! We've got a huge stage front and center for anyone to come by and perform. Bring your instruments, borrow ours, who cares! Just please don't break them. The second floor mainly comprises of tables medium and large so if you have a party, bring them here!]

[If you're hoping to get a drink, you're free to ask a server and you'll be surely served. If you're hoping to be loud, be free, and not destroy anything, then this second floor will be perfect! The second floor's ground-level is completely soundproof so unless you're going through the stairs, the first floor won't hear a thing! We have cameras. They're not obvious.]

A hum rang through the theater, a theater that rose over the region of couches and tables, all of which were stylized similar to that of a classy restaurant or a Japanese night club. The theater itself was a semi-circle, where a blooming streak of curtains would slide in front and back to close off the area. 

From past the dim citrus-colored lighting and into the darkness of the theater was a slim-figured woman, who wore a thick black turtleneck and loose khakis tightened by a black leather belt. She even wore some boring-looking sandals, but she herself was a force beyond reckoning. She casually sprouted fire from her palms, earth underneath her fingernails, air out her legs, and water below her hair. In a way, she was the definition of a fantasy counterpart.

She continued humming away. After all, this was Suzy, pride and joy of the whole building. Tall, blonde, and just about held the above-average human-model look going for herself. Sure, her mother was the owner who would own the rights to the name, but Suzy herself was the flesh and blood of whatever entailed in the restaurant. 

Hally, who would be called "Apple Lady," would work her best to defend the bar, which would eventually garner the nickname "That Bar," while Suzy would be the more-than-happy cleaner who would eventually get the nickname "Soozy-Woozy."

[The balcony is a very special spot. Looking for complete silence? Meditation? Peace of mind? Stop by in the balcony, order yourself a fresh cup of tea or some cold water, and simply stare out into the sky. Even in the rain, there's a roof above your head, so worry not! You may not be looking to relax, but if you're looking to be by yourself, then sometimes that's all you need.]

[So I'm not allowed to record the third floor without Hally's permission, so let's just end it off with the balcony. If you're hoping to spend your moments with your friends or loved ones in a private fashion, the balcony is probably the perfect spot for you. If not, grab a booth at the first floor!]

A voice could be heard softly alongside the wind of the outside world. A voice soft, but bolded with an older demeanor. The accent of a London-man with traces of a distinction that moved across the East toward Russia would fade into her singing voice. 

She would be seen leaning against the balcony when no one would be around, a location that she found comfortable solitude in and a location that would be a hot-spot to recollect her bags of bottle caps.

This was the voice of Elias Allison, a woman whose arms and legs were long gone, replaced by an cyberpunk prosthetic substitute. She didn't really have a nickname, but someone calls her "Dickhead" from time to time. 

While the interior was a complex system of metal tubings that seemed extremely familiar to that of a human's regular muscles, the exterior would be an aesthetically-pleasing two-shaded orange and yellow. 

On the location of what would be her biceps and shins was a logo. It seemed to be a badge of sorts, illustrating itself as a gray twelve-gon shape with a chalice outlined in deep black and drawn like a marker. In the center was an orange symbol, a letter that was line-like, pointed, and symmetrical: "S". 

This would be the proud image of the company she had assigned herself under, "Seerd Urn," where she had herself a lovely job. It paid well, the CEO was cool beans, and they provided sickly-cheap healthcare insurance. Who could ask for more? Not her. It's a lucky time to be alive, wasn't it?

[Pretty, isn't it?]

[I'll be seeing you inside~]

Like the infinite universe and its infinite alternatives, they'd look in whatever direction they wished, and smile. A smile that would welcome each and every one with open arms. They weren't looking to gain money. They were just looking for company.

All they'd need to do is wait.

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fun fact, i really hate that the margins are so narrow, it looks so weird, can i change that

it's been a thousand years since i've used wattpad so im just kind of uploading whatever i feel like uploading

hope you enjoy this weird mishmash of a "story", im trying to have fun since i know there's gonna be like two people that are gonna be interested in this