milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

And because the mun still only has 5 memory entries for him, (and today is about justifications)

~~Henry, Bill,~~ The ~~insurance~~ Salesman is at a table with coffee and a newspaper. He's not paying a lot of attention to the paper. He claims it is because the date is wrong. He is, however, occasionally eyeing the pool table and wondering why he has not made time to shoot in a while.

This is while keeping a watchful eye on the bar, in addition.
For what looks like a relaxing morning to anyone else, he is a busy man.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Audrey, still in her pajama bottoms and t-shirt, was enjoying a waffle at a nearby table. She would glance occasionally at people who sat close to her and gave them a smile, and such was the case with the gentleman with the newspaper.

The smile is not immediately returned, but the man nods graciously enough.

"Good morning, ma'am," he offers as well, by way of greeting.
Seems he's feeling social today.

The bar did that to people often enough.

"Good morning. You look busy."

The man lays the paper down on the table, still open to the same page. The sports section it seems. Never hurts to have the odds in your favor, or the scores in advance.

"Do I?" He asks simply. No outward sign that this astute observation is unexpected. "Not too much so." He adds. "Just catching up a bit, but nothing incredibly interesting."

She shrugged. "Maybe I'm just seeing things."

"Perhaps I just don't focus as much on the news, or sports," he adds obligatorily, "as most people." He shrugs as well, dismissively, because he's not going to explain, nor admit, that she was correct. "I can take it or leave it."

The news sources, in Basin City, typically get the facts wrong anyhow. Reporters payed off and such. So it's not really worth it if you can't read about yourself.

"I have to pay attention to the news. It's part of my job."

"Really?" He feigns interest, at the very least, and takes a sip of his coffee, watching the woman, steadily. "What do you do?"

[Ooc: Sorry, brief slowtime needed while mun runs an errand]

"I work for the government."

He nods. Not the first he's met here.

"Under what administration?" It's the easiest way to determine world, and time, should the president be one he knows.

"Keeler. Logan, actually. Keeler died. But Logan was the Vice President when it happened."

"Ah, another I don't know then." A different version of Earth, or after his time, perhaps.

"It's always horrible when a nation loses its leader." He says coolly. "At least America has a good back up plan. Still, how did he die?" If it is a later term, that he'll live through, at least he'll know not to bother voting for him.

Audrey took a sip of her coffee. Avoiding. Keeler's death wasn't exactly the most pleasant memory the country had.

"He died in a plane crash," she said, finally.

The man is a little dubious. Doubtful that it was that simple, but he nods.

"Tragic." He sounds sincere at least. "How long was he in office?"

"About a year."

An eyebrow is raised, very slightly.

Not long at all.
"Just a simple plane crash, you say? You'd think they'd have been able to prevent that. They must do all sorts of tests on whichever plane they choose as Air Force One. Not to mention weather and other flight patterns."

"I didn't say it was a simple plane crash. It was shot down by terrorists."

"Well," The man smiles blandly. "then that answer would have saved some confusion, eh?"

The tone is flat, but not overly impolite.

"Of course, I understand not wishing to discuss it." To admit failure.
He understands, but it doesn't mean that he's going to change the subject.
"Foreign terrorists?"

"Yes and no. The man who piloted the plane carrying the bomb was domestic, but he was funded by and worked for a Turkish national named Habib Marwan."

Shot down by a plane carrying a bomb. But, for once, he doesn't question it.

"I see. That is unfortunate." He takes another drink of his coffee, it's not quite forgotten, and shrugs. "But I assume things are working out under the new president, and the bastard has been caught?"

"No. He never was caught. He killed himself as we were trying to take him in to custody."

Her ex-boyfriend got a lovely cut in the hand trying to stop him. She frowned and shifted in her seat.

"Logan is...I'm not sure I can say this without sounding like a traitor, but he isn't fit to be President. When Keeler had gone down Logan was sworn in, and I've heard rumors that he needed assistance by ex-President Palmer to help him lead the country. He's not assisting Logan now but Logan should have never been made president."

Both brows are raised this time, then he chuckles coolly.

"But there's no simple way around what the constitution demands. Still, you're a better citizen for questioning your government." Then wryly, he adds, "Of course, I'm not certain that it still applies if you work for it."

"I have a job to do. That's all that matters. I keep my mouth shut and work."

"A good philosophy." He replies evenly. "Not so different from my own."

"What do you do exactly? Or is it secret?" He'd have to understand if it is, since he wont likely be explaining his own career.

"I'm the Senior Policy analyst for the Secretary of Defense."

"Sounds like an important job." He replies. "Do you enjoy it?"

"It's a lot more interesting than what I used to do. Lobbying."

The man snorts softly at this.

"No doubt it is. Have you always lived around DC?"

The man asks a lot of questions, so long as the person is willing to answer them.

"No. I'm from New York, originally."

She didn't mind the questions so long as the man was willing to answer some in return. If he didn't, she'd know he was shady.

Well, she's welcome to ask. He may not answer honestly. Partially because he's always been a damn good liar, and it often proves more interesting.

"I see. Never been to the East coast, myself. I hear it's quite different." In comparison to Basin City anyhow.

Hell, he may be lying already.

"Where are you from?"

He sits back in the chair and smiles wanly. "About as far away as you can get in the lower forty-eight." He replies readily. "Southern California."

"Los Angeles?"

He shakes his head. "Not too far. Little ways out of San Diego actually."

Basin City is based off of L.A. however.

Sharp eyes note he isn't paying that much attention to his paper, and out of curiousity and boredom, she begins tracking his glances as best she can.

To be honest, there's far more listening than glancing. He picks up just as much of what is happening around him, that way, as watching. 'Watchful eye' being a figurative term in this case.

Most of his glances are directed at the newspaper, the pool table, other inconsequential locations around the bar. But on occasion they scan the bar at large, noting an odd purple fellow, a mute, a couple vampires, and sundry other patrons.

If he notices the curious woman, he makes no sign of it.
But one might as well trust that he does.

She stands and walks over to the pool table and begins the laborious selection of a cue stick.

If he did not notice her before, he has now, if only because his chair is facing the pool table.

He takes a drink of his coffee, and it's back to perusing the paper as he does so.

He'd idly considered claiming the table, but wasn't motivated enough, apparently, to do so in time. It's not important though, harder to observe and shoot pool at the same time. Besides, he's not about to invite himself to a game, nor does her care to play against anyone else.

Or perhaps he's just being difficult.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only