milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There is a Chase, in the bar, with a book that he is only pretending to read.

It's difficult to pay full attention to a book when one is keeping a wary eye and a half out for certain daughters and certain fathers-in-law-to-be that one has to make certain apologies to or risk certain...something.

If your name just happens to be Angela or Jack, you might want to just happen to stop by the booth.

And if your name isn't, you're certainly perfectly welcome to stop by anyway.

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"Something bothering you?"

"Just a few arguments with some people," he says, trying to make his shrug look casual.

"Ah. I can buy you a drink if you'd like."

A drink sounds good, and talking takes his mind off it. "Hey, thanks."

He puts the book down. "I'm Chase Edmunds, by the way."

"Jack Driscoll," he says, moving over to Chase's booth. "What kind of drink?"

"Good to meet you, Jack." He considers for a moment. "Vodka collins?"

He nods and orders the drink for Chase. "So how long have you been here, Mr. Edmunds?"

"Altogether, counting the few months with amnesia...almost a year." Hmm.

"Are you new? I don't think I've seen you around. I mean, other than the guy who looks like you."

"Raven," he says with an air of exasparation. "Yes, I'm new. Amnesia?"

"Oh, I've never met him," he says. "I didn't know his name. Welcome to the bar, anyway."

He gives a small laugh. "The amnesia...is a long story." And kind of cool in retrospect, in a twisted sort of way.

"Did it happen here?"

"Yeah. It was voluntary, actually. A wizard did it for me."

"Why did you volunteer to get your memory erased?"

[ ooc: stupid wrong icon. ]

"The details are kind of fuzzy, since...y'know, I don't remember them myself. What basically happened, I think, was that when I was here, I learned about the future of my world, and when I left the Bar, I tried to change it, and it really screwed things up and made this alternate universe. I...can't quite remember how getting my memory erased fixed that, but it ended up all right, so I guess it was worth it."

He can be perfectly cheerful about this a year or two after the fact.

"I see."

He takes down a mental note not to learn about his future ever. Losing memory is bad.

"Did it...hurt?"

"I, ah..." Sheepish laugh. "You know, I don't remember. Someone probably would have told me if it had, though."

"Would they? If a friend of mine forgot a painful moment I wouldn't tell him, personally."

"Even if they asked for all the details?"

"Well, I suppose I would have to tell them, then."

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