milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It's not that Desire hasn't been visiting Milliways: Desire has.
As the Endless is so fond of reminding old friends, this is a bar: Desire never really leaves.
But maybe, just maybe, it's the first time in a long while that the Endless has been spotted moving through the crowd, reclaiming the usual booth.
Desire smirks, sets the cigarette in hand into the blue ashtray on the table and proceeds to get comfortable, shoes propped up on the bench across the way.

So.
How long has it been since you've seen Desire?

[ OOC: Pretty please! I'm attempting to get back in the swing. Ping me at milliwaysdesire before pouncing me, so I know what to expect? Thanks! - Bansh ]

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Jack doesn't feel like a prime cut of rib handing from a string, though he ought to, poor Endless novice. He flips a page and proceeds to write a sentence before he stops again, looking off in the distance.

On a whim, he looks around and sees Desire--and a bunch of other people, who he doesn't acknowledge.

Tch. Not the most observant sort, is he?
Desire watches him write, stop, and write some more: Jack doesn't seem to be very good at keeping his mind on what's he's doing, there.
He must be in need of a distraction.

Desire takes the cigarette and leaves the booth, veering toward Jack's chosen table.

Only when he wants to be.

And this time, when he glances up from his writing again, he notices a woman approaching his table. He stares at her, unable to look away despite interior monologue telling him he should look down.

She offers him a smile as she catches the glance: The longer he looks, the more that smile turns into a grin. It's bright, sharp, much like an actress smiling for the camera.

She puts out her hand as she draws close enough, cigarette hand half-hidden behind her.
"Hello there. Call me Desire."

His lips purse, slightly; he's curious. Why's she here? His mind, for some unknown reason, suspects maybe she wants to be in one of his plays--but then why would anyone approach him here, at the end of the universe, where he's Bound and unfamiliar?

He extends his hand to shake hers.

"Jack Driscoll. Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure, Mister Driscoll." She flashes him another of those grins, and then lightly toes the ground around her feet, glancing at him through her hair as her head tips downward -- the very picture of shy and eager. "D'you mind if I join you, just for a little while?"

"I don't," he replies, still wary but now on the side of interested.

Glee!
No sooner invited than taken: She sits in the chair across the way, lit up like Broadway or something, reaching over to the next table to stub out her cigarette. Everything about her says 'giddy' -- she's a silly girl, no doubt, perhaps a little slice of home in the inordinately weird of the bar -- but it's like Jack's been wondering. Why here?

Precicely. Why here? He sits up in his chair, folding his hands on his lap. If she were just some startlet, she sure had an interesting name.

"How long have you been here?"

Desire pauses and considers: After a moment of introspection, she comes up with a number. "About a year and a half, Mister Driscoll. I came upon the place looking for my sister, and, well -- Here I am!"

She casts her eyes downward at the table. "I haven't really been able to leave the place since."

Of course, what Jack doesn't know -- Desire isn't bound, no matter what the 'Starlet' appears to be saying: Desire hasn't wanted to leave the place for long.

"Ah. My sympathies. Did you happen to find your sister?"

The concept of being bound for a year and a half is unsettling.

"Found her here, actually. She's in and out." She offers him a small, smirky smile that could be chalked up to putting a brave face on. "Most of my family, too. It can be nice to see them, sometimes."

"Your family? Where are you from?"

"Here and there -- Probably wouldn't even recognize the place I originally came from, to tell you the truth. Last time I was out those doors, though, it was just south of New York City."

"Ah. New Jersey, then? Or somewhere in state?"

"Yeah. Newark, specifically."

"And so you were searching for your sister there."

"She's always got something happening in Newark, seems like." She shrugs, idly fidgeting with a cigarette case in her purse. "Found the right door to go through, and there you go. Milliways."

"I thought it a little strange she hadn't told me about the place, but she said it -- comes here to unwind."

"What does she do?"

Desire grins, lets her head drop so she's looking at the table. "I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Bar at the end of the universe--not to say anything of his canon--makes Jack very receptive to weird things.

"Okay." She takes a deep breath, watching Jack warily: Whatever sign or signal she's looking for -- well, it's not certain she's seen it or not, but she's clearly decided.

"She's Death."

Blink.

Blinkety blink blink.

...that explains the "Desire," at least, and the cold, queasy feeling he has in his stomach.

"Like...the Grim Reaper?"

"Heh! She's not so grim. She's got a sense of humor and a heck of a collection of floppy hats. But, yeah. Essentially."

"I...s-see," he says distractedly. "I'm s-sure she's a nice l-lady."