(no subject)

[river_meimei]

Most of the bar's patrons settle into booths regularly, but not many seek out the spaces underneath. It's comfortable there, though; the table overhead casts everything in shadow, and with the benches to either side it's like a small and tidy cave. Not even very dusty, not with the Oompa Loompas on the job. You can sit on the floor, press your back to the wall, and watch the oblivious feet of a dozen patrons pass by.

River's doing so now.

Her sundress, already dappled in tie-dyed shades of purple, is shadowed to murkiness; her arms and legs seem pale in contrast. Her face is subdued, inward-turned and blank.

Comments

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

Maybe it's because he's dead and she's alive and radiating so much energy, but he sees her under the booth's table right away as he walks by.

Leaning over, he looks at her with great surprise; he's not sure what he was expecting to find down there but it wasn't the girl who calls herself River.

"Green River tea?" It's been a really long time. "How have you been?"

He might be a strange one, as Faye always tells him, but River's even stranger.

[river_meimei]

River's eyes shift to him. For a moment, that's all that happens: no change of expression, not really any hint that she even recognizes him.

And then her face relaxes fractionally -- not a smile, not really, but some distant cousin of one. "Grencia Mars Elijah Guo Eckener," she says, solemn, like a recitation.

Beat.

Earnestly, "I'm not green."

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

"Do you remember the tea we made together last time? That's what we called it. Green River tea." He sits cross-legged on the floor in front of the booth so he can see her better. "I know you're not green. But you do know my whole name. The last person who used it..."

Well, actually, it was the judge who sent him to prison for spying. That's not the memory he wanted.

"...let's just say not very many people use my full name. I'm a little bit fond of the way it sounds, though. But what do you think: too many words in it? Five names are a lot to carry around."

[river_meimei]

River's expression falters for a moment, and she looks down.

"Intangible," she says, and her voice is still reflective, despite the brief shadow that crossed her face.

"We can call it an elementary tongue-twister."

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

He's not sure what that means, but he forges bravely ahead regardless. "Do you know what Guo means? It's a Mandarin word."

It's the one he always ends up having to explain when people do ask him about his full name; might as well get it out of the way ahead of time and up front.

[river_meimei]

River gives him a weird look.

She knows, in theory, that most of the bar's population doesn't speak Mandarin, but she forgets the fact at least half of the time.

"Shì a. Dāngrán."

Beat.

"Are you?"

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

He shakes his head. "Sorry... am I what?"

It's like a game of chess, but he's a lousy player. He loses consistently at that and at cards.

[river_meimei]

"Guo," she says patiently.

[call-me-shane.livejournal.com]

A pair of low black boots go by, mud-streaked and very well worn.

Accompanying them is a pair of hard-wearing jeans, and the smell of horses and hay and sweet molassas.

From the next booth over, there's a solid thunk of a bowl hitting the table, followed by a lighter ring of the spoon. Then a lighter thunk as the whiskey is put down.

Then comes the shuffling thud of someone taking a long-needed seat.

[river_meimei]

For a fair while, that's what there is: silence from River's booth, and the quiet scrapes and slurps of dinner from the next one over.

Shane's probably nearly finished when River finally looks down, and exhales, and shifts towards the light outside the booth.

She hasn't eaten yet tonight.

[call-me-shane.livejournal.com]

There's a sudden silence from Shane's booth. There's certain types of lives that make the ones living them almost preternaturally aware of sounds around them.

Especially sounds behind them.

There's a soft rustle of cloth against the wood of the bench, and then Shane is looking down at River, mildly surprised.

"Well, hello there, darlin'."

[river_meimei]

River glances at him; the motion is quick, but there's no surprise on her face.

[call-me-shane.livejournal.com]

"Now, how long've you been hiding there?" He asks, concerned. A quick look around the bar shows no sign of the doctor.

"Have you eaten?"

[river_meimei]

"I'm not." This is probably at least partly a lie.

The second question gets a shrug, one-shouldered and stiff.

[call-me-shane.livejournal.com]

Shane makes a little 'I thought so' noise to himself, then pulls back.

After a moment he stands, and his bootheels thump as he walks to the bar.

The table makes a thump, as well, when a second bowl of stew hits it, with an echoing, tinier thump with the bottle of soda.

If he doesn't know how to deal with crying women, he really doesn't know what to feed them. He went with what he supposed she might like.

[thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com]

There was a thunk of a heavy coin hitting the floor and rolling, followed not long after by Remy, shaking his head, and then blinking at the fact that the underside of the booth was occupied.

"... 'llo petit." Seemed like the best thing to say just at the moment.

[river_meimei]

River blinks at him.

And then focuses, and jumps.

[thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com]

Remy blinked as well, drawing back just slightly, jumpy things tended to bite when they felt cornered.

Or something. C'mon, he grew up in a swamp, s'the only experience he's got.

"Didn' mean t'startle you."

[river_meimei]

"Red," River says blankly, half-lifting a hand. It's not quite clear what her gesture's meant to be.

[thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com]

He blinked again, "Pardon?" And once more before it dawned on him, "Oh, oui, always have been."

He shrugged then, for only using one shoulder for the gesture it was surprisingly at ease, "Name's Remy."

[river_meimei]

"Oarsman."

River blinks, looking almost disoriented for a moment, before she looks away.

Softly, "Forgot the boat."

[thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com]

Both brows arched at that, "No' many people know t'at one." He shook his head a moment later, "Not much've one for rowin' m'self." A shrug, "Prefer drier modes've transportation."

[md_donighal]

One set of feet is clad in sensible gray, with black shoes.

(Except that, on alternating strides, they're wrapped in golden boots and surrounded by a faint heat-haze.

[river_meimei]

[OOC: Sorry! I'd already gone to bed. Shall we thread another time?]

[aberrantangels]

[OOC: Please!]