milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Matt is in a booth, facedown on the table... dead.

...considering he's been dead since he came in, this isn't really a huge surprise to most people (especially since that sort of thing happens in Milliways all the time), but he's not moving too much. At least, it doesn't look that way unless you look really carefully and notice that his far shoulder is shifting up and down.

He's writing. Somewhat privately. With an improvised 'pen'.

Feel free to interrupt him, though, especially if you might be checking on him. He's so nice to people who check on him.

*cough*

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The door opens and closes and Preston sets his sword aside.

This is not his bedroom.

That fact hits home even more when he spots the fellow directly in his path scribbling hurriedly.

"...Changing the world?"

Jurgen looked like that.

"If I was still alive, I'd still consider it my duty," he answers as he sits up, turning to face the man who'd spoken to him. "As it is... I'm writing letters."

Preston smirks, "....To who?"

"To my brother," he admits. "I'm... thinking of heading out the door, to be honest."

Preston frowns. He knows what happens to the dead when they leave the bar.

There's an itchy feeling in his hands as Preston lowers his head, "...What would make you consider such a thing?"

The sword is dropped to the side, gently.

"Nothing to do," he answers honestly. "My... chosen profession, as it were, isn't really all that in demand here. And the pay's never been good."

So his radar's blinking.

"...And what is it you do?"

Matt managed to evade the yeomen until his brother showed up. His radar, as such, is pretty sensitive.

Considering he's dead...

He looks Preston up and down.

"Who's asking?"

"I'm just curious."

Preston smiles. Wow this guy reminds him of Jurgen..

He eyes the table a bit, "Do you mind if I sit?"

"It's a free bar," he says, "or as free as a place like this may be."

"You sound like that idea bothers you." Preston says. He's slightly bemused by that, "...I'm used to observing people."

"The idea of a free place," he says, "or the idea of a place that only seems free?"

Preston raises an eyebrow, "....Why phrase it like that? A place that only seems free?"

He peers curiously at Preston.

"What is this place, that it may call the dead here? Not a bad place, at that, but what are they to do once they get here? They're charged the same for food and board as others who may go freely back to where they came from, and yet there aren't nearly enough jobs to go around here. If it's aiming to be a business, that's fair enough. An innkeeper is due his coin and not responsible for making sure his customers can pay it. But for a place where a man often can't choose if he's to stay or not, which is a crime in itself... "

He shakes his head.

"Are you living or dead, man?"

"I'm alive."

Once upon a time his answer would have been different, "...Very alive. You're advocating the rights of the dead in the bar?"

He shakes his head.

"I'm advocating for any of those who can neither leave nor find employment. The Bound and the Dead."

He leans back in his seat.

"I'll speak on behalf of any man not given a fair shake."

There's another half smile at that, "Those being oppressed?"

He nods earnestly.

"And I speak for too many," he says, "Though in life I spoke for more. I wonder: are you familiar with a man by the name of Dick Sharpe?"

Preston shakes his head, "I'm afraid not."

This is not on the list of noted individuals that Jurgen gave him to remember is it? No? He can't recall honestly.

He raises an eyebrow. And here he thought everyone knew Dick.

"Not important then."

He puts his 'pen' down before looking to Preston.

"I died in an effort to save the men of Yorkshire from a load of greedy, self-serving industrialists who didn't care what they did in the name of 'progress', and from a government that was prepared to allow it as long as the taxes were paid right and proper."

Preston disapproves of governments that look the other way, "...What did these industrialists do?"

Enforce.

That's what he's going to say right? Preston's eyes have narrowed. There might be something slightly off putting there.

never know.

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