milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Alanna has been in an especially foul mood since she returned from Milliways.

They are all at court now, preparing for the voyage to Carthak. Soon Alanna and Nuamir will be on their way and Adam would return to Olau with the children, but the Lioness can not seem to shake the dark, worried mood she'd brought back from the end of the universe.

After a few hours of this, Adam manages to coax the truth out of her.

"It's ending," she croaks, explaining her conversation with Blodwen.

Adam frowns. "No, it can't be."

"It is."

"It can't," he insists, gesturing wildly in frustration.

Standing, Alanna scowls at her husband and holds out her hand.

---

It takes a strong push to get the door open. Alanna steps through and sucks in a breath, again feeling that sense of wrongness, and waits.

The Antichrist enters the bar for the first time in years, and if what Alanna feels is akin to small magical shocks all over her skin, Adam looks like someone just dropped a hair dryer in his bath.

His mouth drops open.

"WASN'T ME!"

The Antichrist, bringer of the end of times - but not THIS time, and not the LAST time, either, for what it's worth - settles into a dark corner of the bar and orders a Very Large Drink.

[OOC: Am here, but more than a bit rusty, and not sure for how long. Kinda like the bar.]

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His wife is not far behind. Even a quick trip to the office had been long enough to discover there is no way to catch up. There's news; all of it is bad.

Sitting across from Adam, she gives him a direct look and asks, "Are you all right?"

This has to feel weird for so many reasons.

"I'm..."

He pauses, and takes a sip of his drink. There are a lot of words to describe how he feels right now, and all right is not really among them anywhere.

"It's just so strange, isn't it?"

Which it he's referring to could be one of so many, really.

A short laugh.

Alanna wraps one hand around her mug -- coffee, as she prefers to keep her wits intact -- and reaches for his hand with the other. As ever, her grip is strong. She wants him to know... well, that she's here to help center him, she supposes. For the time being.

Blasted Carthak.

A moment passes before Alanna can't hold it in any longer. "How? How can this happen?" she bursts out, anger rippling below the surface.

Someone feels responsible. Someone feels like she might have failed at her duty.

Adam's eyes scan the room; the chaos unfolding around them, and the words he speaks are calm and empty as his eyes are not.

"Everything ends at some point."

There's no force behind them, and he lets out a sigh as he squeezes her hand back.

"I don't know, though. This place..." He drops off.

"Shouldn't," is Alanna's swift reply.

The hand squeeze is almost too much for her. Freeing her hand, she pushes red hair off her forehead and scowls down at her coffee.

"I don't even know where to begin." Her eyes lift to his. There's no question that she's staying to help; there's also no question that she'll leave in the middle of a battle rather than miss the ship to Carthak. Tortall will ever and always come first. "Our friends. We should write, at least. Offer space? In case?"

Adam nods, and swallows.

"Certainly. There is always room for our friends." Under his words, though, his meaning - please let there not be a need.

"Is there anything I-?" But he stops before he finishes asking. The kinds of things he can do - the things he used to do; the things he does now - aren't the kinds of help that are needed. "I can stay," he offers.

Given everything that happened with Sven and what she'd asked Raph and K to do in the aftermath, Alanna feels a slow growl work its way up her throat as soon as she suggests they offer an escape. She fights it down; this is more important than worrying what else might find its way to their home.

If they can save anyone, they should.

"Is it safe for you?" Her eyebrows shoot up.

He gives a nod - short and sharp.

"I haven't forgotten everything."

About this place. About how to take care of himself when it doesn't involve hunting or cooking. About how to take care of... things.

She smiles, just a little. "Good."

Goddess, but she's proud of the man he is now.

"Do you... sense your father at all about the place?"

A brief flash behind his eyes, but he shakes his head no.

"I can't help wonder if I would, though."

The coffee must be working its way into her system, because she scratches her nails up and down her arms and shifts restlessly in her seat. Or possibly the stray magic in the room is giving her hives.

"I don't know what I sense anymore, other than wrong," she scowls.

Beat.

"I should go."

She doesn't want to leave him.

Adam nods, but reaches out a hand. Not grabbing for hers, but coming halfway.

"I'll be here."

Not necessarily this seat. Or the bar, even. But here.

Alanna gives him a jerky nod. She looks at his hand, briefly, before moving over beside him. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, she breathes in deep and asks, "If it takes a sudden turn for the worse, just make sure you get home."

She leans her head on his shoulder for a moment and slides out of the booth.

"I'll do the same."

He knows that isn't a promise she takes lightly.

Sometime after The Lioness leaves a nearly four foot tall rat in a burgundy kimono pads his way across the bar in Adam's direction.

He might be carrying a tea tray, just...for the record.

"Excuse me, but are you Adam Young?"
His voice is dry, and his English is accented rather heavily with Japanese.

Rats are no big surprise in the bar, especially rats carrying trays.

But this rat is suspiciously large. And has no bullet holes.

"I am. Might I help you?"

(Splinter has no bullet holes for speed, Splinter needs no bullet holes for speed.)

The old rat smiles, which...if you've never see a rat smile might be the slightest bit offputting.

"Excellent. I am Hamato Splinter, but you might know me better as Raphael's father."

Because of course, the 250 pound bald babysitter that used to be a turtle and who's spent the better part of the last ten years living in Adam's house would have a rat for a father.

That's just science.

Adam isn't put off - if anything, it's all much more clear now.

"Of course, I should have guessed."

Adam holds a hand out, pointing to the seat recently vacated by Alanna. "Would you like to take a seat, Mr. s- Sir?"

"Please, call me Splinter, and thank you," he says as he places the tea tray on the table top. The tea is Japanese, but the chocolate biscuits that accompany setting is most definitely not.

He's brought you cookies, Adam. Yes, have some!

It may have been a while, but some things never change, and Adam doesn't immediately go for the cookies, instead giving Splinter a raised eyebrow.

"Thank you kindly, but I'm fine."

There's a slight pause, and he continues.

"Tell me, do you stay here?" He asks, with a hand pointing around the bar. "How long since all of this started?"

He only figured that maybe Adam preferred chocolate the same way that his wife did.

Also...Splinter really like chocolate cookies, and when they're called biscuits he feels better about eating them.

"I do. I relocated around the time Magellan was born. So almost a year now. This," he says turning to take in the room. "Is new. Michaelangelo says that there is no immediate threat. He has not had the best possible judgement as of late."

It's possible that Adam may have heard about the MIB Neuralyzer that Mike brought to Tortall. But then again...perhaps not.

Adam does enjoy a good chocolate biscuit, especially with a cuppa. But Adam is not ever going to be overly trustful of food other people have in the bar.

His head turns and he scans the room again, and gives a laugh - somewhat light, but with a bitter turn to it at the end.

"I'd say not. There's something... final feeling about this."

He nods, picking up a cookie...er biscuit. What? They're just sitting there being all delicious!

"I can feel it as well. It is almost as if a spring has been wound too tight and only time will tell when it will overcome its restraints."

And yet, having said that Splinter stoically pours himself a cup of tea. And then...when he thinks no one is looking, he pulls a small flask from his sleeve and pours some of its contents into the tea.

Adam gives a small, approving, grin at the flask, and, having watched Splinter eat one of the biscuits, takes one for himself. It is rather tasty.

"Seems so strange - I mean, I've seen ends before, but this place always seemed... different."

Splinter raises his teacup, pausing to allow the aroma of the heavily spiked tea to wash over him, and then takes a drink. His whiskers twitch ever so slightly as he does so.

When he is through it is clear that the tea has not been as calming as he was hoping it would be.

"Indeed. There is precious little about Milliways that is not. At least it is consistent."

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