ext_54865 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
milliways_bar2005-06-13 09:28 pm
henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com) wrote in milliways_bar2005-06-13 09:28 pm
Late Happy Hour
The roster had them scheduled for a later evening shift this week, and the two likely lads were only too happy to switch around and serve a whole different crowd of punters.
Hurricane glasses clink together as Indy empties the washer and refills the shelves beneath the bar. Then he sets about topping up the ice box. Mike sits on a stool, over-seeing the preparations and lazily slicing a banana into the blender for a new smoothie concoction. Such is the division of labor since Indy had upset Mel last week, and, though the role-reversal may look strange, Indy doesn't begrudge it. In fact he seems more animated than ever, if that's even possible.
"Looks like Bar has suggestions for the theme tonight," he says, pointing out a napkin as it materializes on the counter near Mike. There are notes written in a feminine, curving script, and Mike reads them, shrugs and marks up the specials according to the message:
LATE HAPPY HOUR!
Cocktail Specials
~ Barrier Breaker
~ Cry Baby Blues
~ Fragile Baby
Indy gives the board a curious look-over once the ex-turtle has chalked enough amusing doodles around the words. "Mike...?" The artist steps back to admire his work, cocking his head. "What... too many swirlies?"
Indy repeats himself, his gaze still fixed on the board. "Mike..."
The younger man looks again, absorbing the information between his sketches. And eventually, after what seems like an eternity, the goofy grin drops away. He turns slowly and for a few moments the two guys just stare at each other. Then, in unison, the incredulous questions come blurting out from each of them:
"Mel's not...? Is she?"
"Indy, you knocked Delia up?"
They both shake their heads vehemently, but there's uncertainty behind their resolute denials:
"No!"
"Nuh uh!"
Shiftily eying each other, they move to opposite ends of the bar and await orders.
"What'll it be folks? Two tenders, no waiting."
[Summary: Full summary in Back Room]
Hurricane glasses clink together as Indy empties the washer and refills the shelves beneath the bar. Then he sets about topping up the ice box. Mike sits on a stool, over-seeing the preparations and lazily slicing a banana into the blender for a new smoothie concoction. Such is the division of labor since Indy had upset Mel last week, and, though the role-reversal may look strange, Indy doesn't begrudge it. In fact he seems more animated than ever, if that's even possible.
"Looks like Bar has suggestions for the theme tonight," he says, pointing out a napkin as it materializes on the counter near Mike. There are notes written in a feminine, curving script, and Mike reads them, shrugs and marks up the specials according to the message:
LATE HAPPY HOUR!
Cocktail Specials
~ Barrier Breaker
~ Cry Baby Blues
~ Fragile Baby
Indy gives the board a curious look-over once the ex-turtle has chalked enough amusing doodles around the words. "Mike...?" The artist steps back to admire his work, cocking his head. "What... too many swirlies?"
Indy repeats himself, his gaze still fixed on the board. "Mike..."
The younger man looks again, absorbing the information between his sketches. And eventually, after what seems like an eternity, the goofy grin drops away. He turns slowly and for a few moments the two guys just stare at each other. Then, in unison, the incredulous questions come blurting out from each of them:
"Mel's not...? Is she?"
"Indy, you knocked Delia up?"
They both shake their heads vehemently, but there's uncertainty behind their resolute denials:
"No!"
"Nuh uh!"
Shiftily eying each other, they move to opposite ends of the bar and await orders.
"What'll it be folks? Two tenders, no waiting."
[Summary: Full summary in Back Room]
no subject
no subject
no subject
The salute and snap to attention were pretty damn impressive. You were impressed, admit it. Have you ever seen someone in a Hawaiian shirt do something like this? Okay, that one time on M.A.S.H., but that doesn't count.
no subject
He gives a chirpy beam to back up his sentiment.
no subject
no subject
Indy gives Mike a helpless shrug and grabs a bottle of Glenfiddich and a lowball glass. "I'm Indiana Jones... and that's Michaelangelo, ex-mutant ninja turtle. Just for the record."
He hands over the drink after a quick glance round to ensure Bernard is not in the vicinity.
no subject
Instead, he downs the glass. "Yeah, it really is," he said. "It gets better, too. Her best friend, who is currently my object of infinite lust, thinks I killed Miss Lilly. How perfect is that? Both chicks I dig, both totally fucked up. I deserve some sort of prize for idiocy."
He lays his head back on the bar. "Dude. And I'm not dead, either."
no subject
no subject
He looks up and gives Indy a crooked smile. "She said you were a friend of hers."
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
He pauses for another sip. "Except she died. A year and a half ago. And so much other shit happened, and Veronica - well. And she's not here, but Lilly is. And we're self-destructing again. We're as reliable as Nazis. The trains to hell always run on time."
no subject
no subject
He thinks about it. "Five days, more or less," he says. "First few were blurry so I can't be sure, but I only saw Lilly again two days ago. We didn't even fuck, it's very sad, and Lilly's fantastic, so I'm definitely missing out."
He sighs again and finishes his drink.
no subject
no subject
He puts his head back on the bar, getting kind of sleepy. He'd had a lot of tequila earlier.
no subject
no subject
He stands up, offers his hand. "Nice meeting you, anyway. 'Member, no matter what, I love the Lilly. Kay?"
no subject
no subject