milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"Billy Liar's got his hands in his pockets
Staring over at the neighbor's, knickers down.
He's got his knickers down."

Sings the happy-go-lucky Head Bar-ex-turtle.
He's behind Bar with a HUGE stack of papers in front of him.
There are crayons.

Fear.

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Sam's spent all day in the university library helping to research old Slavic languages for a paper due tomorrow, and consequently managed to miss his lunch. So he sits at the bar eating a very belated lunch and doodling absently on a notepad covered in a language that looks like Russian but isn't, and managing to abstract one of Mike's crayons when the nib of his pencil breaks.

The crayon, incidentally, is pink. He may not have noticed.

"I don't know that carmelized salmon is really your color."

Remarks the man behind the bar.

Sam looks at his hand, looks up, and grins. "Everything's my colour. Because I am just that good."

"That's a bold statement right there, what do you have to back it up?"

"What, my dashing good looks aren't enough?" Sam is SHOCKED AND INSULTED by the very notion that they aren't. SHOCKED AND INSULTED.

"Good looks will get you through the door, but what's going to keep you there?"

"Wit and charm, of course." He laughs. "And if all else fails, sarcasm and a kick to the groin. But of course that's a last resort."

"Yeah, a good swift kick to the boys doesn't often win you friends...or at least friends you actually want."

"Which is why I generally don't use it on my friends. Siblings, now, are a different matter entirely."

"Siblings are always a different story."

"Especially when they're trying to kill you." Sam grins brightly.

"I wouldn't know."

Wow, did it get cold in here all of a sudden.
The Bar beneath his hands actuall frosts over slightly.

Sam shrugs. "Lucky you."

He quirks a brow, changing the subject. "I think you're actually about the first person I've seen behind that bar. You the new barman, then?"

He'll take that change of subject, thanks.

"That'd be me, yup. Mike."

He says gesturing at the place where a traditional name tag would be, if he wore one...which he doesn't.

Well, Sam's not entirely stupid. Rash and suprisingly immature for a guy who's pushing four thousand, yes, but not stupid.

...Mostly.

He grins. "I never met the old one, but then I'm pretty new. I'm Sam."

"Nice to meet you Sam. Which old one do you mean? Sirius or Bernard?"

"Bernard, I think his name was. I only starting coming here a couple of months ago."

"That'd be Bernard then, yeah. Good guy, when he isn't running around trying to get himself, and everyone in a blast radius, killed."

"Oh?" Sam laughs. "Sounds like a kindred spirit."

"Do I have to keep a close eye on you?"

Cue Innocent Grin (TM).

"Who, me?"

"Yeah...that's a YES if ever there was one."

He laughs and shrugs. "Well, you can try, but I'm a good guy, thanks. And I usually only get myself hurt."

"Oh well, if it's just you then I guess that means it's all okay then."

Do you see the skeptical look?
It's so very composed of skeptical and look.

OK, so there'll be no introducing himself as Lucifer then.

"Well, yes. Unless you're me, in any case."