milliways_bar | (no subject)

It wasn't quite summer yet in New York, but it was close enough. The weather had been clear and hot, but thankfully hadn't quite reached the point where it was oppressive. That said, a change for the cooler wasn't unwelcome, and when the front door opened to reveal the t-shirt-clad form of April O'Neil, the wry quirk to her lips suggested she was pleased enough to step over the threshold into the familiar confines of Milliways Bar.

She'd been around, but rarely for more than a few minutes together, generally simply checking in or using the bar as a way station between her New York and late-1800s London. Today, though, April thought she'd linger awhile, if only to take note of the growing sea of unfamiliar faces, and perhaps see a few familiar ones, as well.

Seating herself at the bar, she ordered coffee -- Large, with lots of sugar and cream, and Bar still knew just how to make it -- and opened the copy of the New York Times that had been tucked under her arm.

[OOC: It's been awhile; please feel free to interrupt her!]

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"New York City, on Earth. 1997," April answered, sitting back up when the kittens began happily lapping up the milk. "How about you? Someplace cool and exotic?" She grinned.

"London 2006" as per her accent, "Which can be cool and exotic. Though dull compared to places that can be travelled from here."

"The future's always cool," April pointed out with a wide smile. "My boyfriend's from London. 1890, though, so it's not quite the same," she chuckled.

Amanda laughs. She can't help it. "No not quite." Amanda is amused given that in 1890 she was in New York. "But then niether is New York."

"I don't guess anyplace would be," April smiled. "So, what do you do in London? Did you work?" Rescue people from supervillains? Cast magic spells? Fight ghosts?

"I own some night clubs, one in London, Paris, and New York. It's called Sanctuary. Though in your time it would have been owned by a man named Korda. How about yourself?" yes it sounds so dull. But then that's her day job.

"I run an antiques store." It sounded so normal. So uninteresting. That was, perhaps, the point. "Well, that's how I make money, anyway." Not that she made much.

Amanda has known too many antique store owners to think of it as normal. Amanda can't sense that she is immortal. Not that it's a rerquirement or anything.

"And what do you do that doesn't make you money?"

"Try to stay out of trouble, mostly. It doesn't always work, though," April laughed. "My family is kind of unusual. Do you know Raph, who's on Security, or Mikey who bartends?"

Mikey she's met breifly and from what she recalls she liked him but at the mention of Raph Amanda look upset, "I've heard of him." but she takes a few deep breaths to calm down, "Sorry." she's had a rough day and to think it's still early. She isn't mad at April. "

It would be sort of difficult to miss that, and so April's eyebrows arched accordingly. Raph wasn't exactly the easiest person to get along with, so it wasn't altogether unexpected, but she was protective of him regardless.

"It's alright. What did he do?"

"He used what I would consider excesive force when dealing with a friend of mine. My friend holds no grudges but I don't like seeing him hurt." which is to say nothing about the wound that was inflicted upon Raph but Amanda feels that was justified.

Ah, well. That wasn't any great surprise. Nor was April's immediate conclusion that whoever the guy was, he probably deserved it.

Yeah, she tended to do that. She loved the jerk.

April nodded once, vaguely sympathetic. "He's... passionate."

Amanda couldn't fault her that, she can be the same way.

"I haven't met him..." there is a pause and then she remembered, "Oh wait, I did." hmm. shrugging, "Well there is no point in lingering." then she recalls, "Oh, who is it that you know in 1890 London?" yes she figures that she met him here.

"My boyfriend." April paused a moment, not to be dramatic, but because even now it felt so weird to say sometimes. "Sherlock Holmes."

A year ago that my have shocked her but not anymore instead there is just a smile and a questions, "What's he like?" and she notes that somehow she has managed to miss meeeting Sherlock Holmes.