milliways_bar | First Entrance

Entry tags:

First Entrance

Today had been pretty cut and dry: spend the morning washing the rig, spend the mid-morning listening to Sean and Franco compare their latest bedroom conquests, spend the early afternoon knocking down a routine apartment fire, and after they'd gotten back to the house and gotten the rig squared away in case they got called back out, he'd gone to take a shower.

The shower had been normal, too. All he'd needed was to wash the smoke and ash out of his hair. As he stepped out of the shower, he could smell something burning - meant Lou was probably cooking again - and after wrapping a dark blue towel around his waist, he headed for the locker room.

Only this wasn't the locker room.

Probationary Firefighter Mike Silletti finds himself standing a few feet from the Front Door, clutching the towel around his waist like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car - if deer walked on two legs and bothered to bathe and/or wear towels.

"Uh, guys?"

Because this has got to be a joke, right? Pretty good joke, turning the locker room into a bar. He smiles, thinking about it. They've gotten him good this time.

He looks behind him, not sure where the door has gone, but it hasn't quite registered yet.

"Seriously...you got me."

No, seriously...where are the guys. They should've been busting his balls by now, laughing at the look on his face. This...this is weird.

[OOC: Welcome to the bar, Probie. Mike is from Rescue Me and is in that nebulous timespace between seasons 2 and 3. Be gentle? Or not. Open til I say it's closed.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tommy and Lou, still in their work shirts and bunker pants, are sitting at a table at the far end of the room, just playing cards and in the middle of a discussion about the merits of Kevin Costner movies when Lou happens to look past Tommy's shoulder.

He mumbles around his cigar: "Well, shit."

"...What?"

When Lou motions for him to turn around, Tommy glances behind him, and his jaw drops. He turns back to Lou, and hisses, "Goddammit! Did you tell him about this place? You told him, didn't you?"

"No, I swear, I didn't! If I had to tell anybody else in the firehouse, it sure as hell wouldn't be him. We're screwed now. Might as well tell the whole neighborhood, since he's probably as good at keeping secrets as he is at keeping that towel on without the help of Velcro."

A beat.

"Wanna go give him shit?"

"You're damn right, I do."

Tommy tosses his cards down and gets up, with Lou following him.

"Hey! Probie!" he barks as he comes up toward Mike. "Put some goddamn pants on, asshole, this ain't one of your West Village joints. The hell're you doin' here?"

"I don't have any pants," he says, looking back towards the door.

Or where the door should be.

"I was gonna put them on, but then I walked into the locker room..." He looks back at the guys. "Did you guys do this? 'Cause if you did...wow. Did you see that chick in the dress over there," he cranes his head, looking for the weird Ren Faire outfit. "I dunno where she went, but where'd you find all these people?"

This is when Lou's deadpan comes in really handy.

"Yes. Yes, Tommy and I are completely responsible for putting an entire bar in the firehouse. It took a bit of planning and negotiating with the city and the department, but they eventually came around. And all these people? Let's just say that word of mouth travels fast at the end of the universe."

"...but I thought Tommy wasn't drinking anymore."

He bites his lower lip between his teeth, looking around at all of the people. This...has got to be a joke. Right? There's no way those...

"...c'mon, there's no way that the Chief signed off on this." He laughs, a bit nervously. "Right? You guys are shittin' me."

"I'm not drinking anymore, okay, a bar can serve things other than booze," Tommy snorts. But growing dead serious, he lowers his voice and says, "Listen -- if you want us to tell you what the hell is going on here, you gotta promise me and Lou that you ain't gonna breathe a word of this to anybody else. Or so help me God, you'll be cleaning the john with a toothbrush for the rest of your career as a firefighter."

He's not even a full-fledged firefighter yet, and he's planning on making this a long-term career; sure, the money ain't great, but the chicks are hot and he gets to rescue people from burning buildings and that's pretty cool, so:

"I won't say anything," he says, looking between Tommy and Lou. "I promise."

Lou and Tommy exchange a look, and Tommy gives him a you do the honors gesture.

"Okay, it's like this," Lou begins, choosing his words carefully, because sometimes he uses words that Mike doesn't understand. "When you walked through the locker room door, it brought you here instead -- via magic, science, a combination of both, who knows? And this place? It's called Milliways. It's a bar at the end of the universe, not in our firehouse. It's not even in New York City. It's not even on Earth. If you take a look out that window -- and I assure you, it's a window, and not a PBS special about space on a plasma TV -- you'll see that we're nowhere near anything that's remotely like home."

That should be good enough for Mike to work with for now.

You know when your cable goes out and the TV screen goes to the white-static that looks like a really nasty snowstorm, and no matter how hard you beat the damn thing, it still won't focus in on a picture?

Yeah.

That's about the state of Mike's brain right now.

"...they have bars in space?"

He squints slightly at the window.

"I thought they just had like, the space shuttle and stuff."

Lou purses his lips and nods, looking to Tommy. "I gave it my best shot. Your turn."

To which Tommy replies with a growly sigh as he scrubs a hand through his hair.

"Alright. Look. It's not a bar in space. --Okay, well, technically, it's sorta like a bar in space, except bars in space don't generally exist to begin with. Anyways, all that matters is that the locker room door brought you here, okay? And people from different planets and universes and time periods an' shit -- they come in through their own doors, too. That's how Lou and I got here. And this place is more than just a bar, there's a lake and a forest outside, there's rooms upstairs, they've got the best food ever, and...the bar is magic."

He totally says this without any hint of sarcasm, which is probably a new thing for Mike.

"Okay."

Mike glances towards the counter.

"The bar is magic." A glance at Tommy and Lou. "Like, David...David Bowie, in the movie with the puppets?"

Lou blinks. "You know what? I'm gonna go with that. It's exactly like David Bowie in the movie with the puppets, except there are no puppets, and there are no tights that leave nothing to the imagination. Speaking of which..."

He pats the countertop. "I think the Probie needs some clothes before he breaks a rule."

Then a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt appears -- like magic! -- and he hands them over to Mike.

"I like that movie," he murmurs, before Lou waves his hands over the counter and makes some clothes appear out of thin air.

"What. Woah." He works his jaw, speechless for a minute. "That's a neat trick, Lou. Where'd you learn that, magic school?"

It is kind of cold in here. He takes the shirt and quickly pulls it on, then moves to do the sneakiest deck-change ever beneath the towel, tugging on the sweats.

He somehow manages not to break the rule about nudity, but only barely.

"Magic school?" Tommy interrupts. "Did you not hear what we just said? The bar is magic. Lou? Not magic. Look, go ahead, order something, anything you want. Just ask the bar. The first drink is on the house, by the way, but since you're still on duty, you'd better not have anything alcoholic. So, like one of your fruity coffee flavors or some shit."

"But he..."

When Tommy gives him a Look, he shuts his mouth about Lou's magical abilities (or lack thereof) and focuses on the counter. The prospect of one of the fancy coffee flavors is exciting, and it's for that reason that he forgets that both Lou and Tommy are right there listening to him ask for a drink.

It's one of the ones that tastes like a Snickers bar in a cup.

"..and could you do one of those little..." Mike motions at the foam. "Those little pictures on it?"

Bar obliges, much to his delight.

Lou sighs with feigned wistfulness, "Tommy, when did we ever outgrow the simple, innocent pleasure of having pictures on our coffee?"

"You gotta be kiddin'," Tommy sneers. "We were never this simple and innocent. Believe me, I would've remembered if I was this simple and innocent, and if I did remember, I would never speak of it again."

He turns to Mike. "You get it now? That the bar is magic?"

Edited 2012-06-10 05:22 (UTC)

He swallows down the mouthful of coffee and wipes away the bit of foam that sticks to his upper lip with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, I mean, I guess, 'cause it just sorta showed up here, like you said...and it just gave me this coffee for free, and it's got the picture on it of...of..."

Mike stares at the slightly-damaged latte art with a somewhat sad expression.

"What's the planet with the rings again?"

"Saturn, but it might as well be Uranus," Lou replies with a shrug. "In any case, now that we've established the basics, I should point out that this place has rules: no outside business, which, for you, Probie, is irrelevant; no violence, which, for Tommy, has been challenge, I'm sure; and no nudity or sex, which, for the both of you -- well. I'm not going to speculate. There is a lot of first class tail on the premises, but that's why there are rooms upstairs."

At the mention of 'anus', Probie checks behind him, before he realizes that Lou is talking about the planet, not his ass.

He listens to Lou's instructions, and nods. And then he grins.

"That Ren Faire chick was pretty hot," he agrees.

"What Ren Faire chick...?" says Tommy, glancing around as if trying to pick up something that he'd previously missed on his radar. "Though listen, kid, you won't believe the kinds of women who come through here. Goddesses, and I mean real goddesses. And superheroes, too. Talk about hot, these chicks are beyond anything we've ever met back home. Which is why you can't tell Franco especially, 'cause chances are he'll have slept with half the bar before I even get another shot with a Greek deity."

"Superheroes?"

He goes a little starry-eyed at the prospect.

"You mean like, real superheroes...like one day I'm gonna be sitting here drinking a coffee and Wonder Woman is just gonna show up and order a drink?"

Tommy glances around the room again. Shit. Is there a Wonder Woman in the bar? There must be a Wonder Woman. There has to be. Tommy must find her first!

"Yeah, that's exactly what I mean. Though you never know who's a superhero or not, 'cause they could be in disguise. It makes introductions really interesting. And also, the standard 'Where are you from?' becomes 'Where and when are you from?' 'cause they can come from the past or the future -- it's kinda crazy, but once you get used to it, it's pretty goddamn fun."

He turns to Lou. "You met anybody with special powers?"

Lou sticks his hands in his pockets and shrugs a little. "Sure did."

"What can she do?"

"She can bake. And I mean bake. Hoo boy, can she bake." Sunshine can do that, oh yes.

Tommy stares at him a bit blankly before turning back to Mike.

"So yeah -- all kinds of women."

Edited 2012-06-10 06:48 (UTC)

"My mom makes the best cookies," he interjects. "Though, I mean, I wouldn't want to meet her in a bar, because that...that would just be weird, y'know. Much rather meet Wonder Woman."

Maybe she'd even have the rope. That could be fun.

Though then again, after the threeway with his first grab...being restrained might be a little weird.

Subject change:

"Have you met any superheroes, Tommy?"

Unspoken: And have you nailed any of them?

First Entrance

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)