milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Gordon had been stepping into the restaurant where he's been working lately to pay the bills. This... is not it. It's a lot nicer than a crappy restaurant in mid-90's Alphabet City.

He manages to keep most of the surprise out of his expression, though - he's remarkably calm for someone whose place of occupation has been replaced by an unfamiliar bar. So rather than panicking, he just tilts his head ever so slightly to one side and surveys the room quietly. He supposes his boss didn't just decide to remodel without mentioning it to him, so...

[OOC: Gordon from RENT. RENT characters who know the Man would do well to note that Gordon looks rather like him - though most of them should know Gordon from Life Support anyway.]

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Gordon's not unused to hippy poets. He lives in the East Village, after all.

"Actually, it used to be a restaurant... just not nearly as nice." There's a pause as he considers. "There was some doubt I'm from Earth?"

"Not everyone is, you'll find. And those who are, aren't always from the same time." He offers a hand. "Miniver Cheevy New York 1967."

Gordon shakes his hand, eying Miniver as he might someone he thinks completely insane. He's not unused to those either. Again, East Village.

"Gordon Daniels. Um. New York, 1997."

"Hey, I know people from there!" Miniver grins, ignoring the crazy-guy look (he's used to it). "Hey. D'you know someone named Paul? Or April?"

Gordon raises his eyebrows a little. "Paul from Life Support?" He'd never actually learned Paul's last name. Never wanted to.

"Yeah! Him! He thinks he cannot dance but he is wrong!" Miniver chuckles and plucks the quill out of his hair, fidgeting with it. "He's like, around, somewhere. Hey. If you can't get back through that door, you might want to look into getting a room here. I slept on booth benches for like, four days before somebody told me about that."

"Yeah, I know Paul. Paul dancing, though, is something I'm not sure I want to see." Something about that steps over the boundaries of the careful distance Gordon likes to keep from... well, everyone.

A moment to consider Miniver's words about rooms and doors, and then, "Why wouldn't I be able to get through the door?"

"Up to Bar. Sometimes you get Bound and you can't go home. Consider yourself lucky. Go on and try it."

Gordon doesn't like the sound of that in the least. He turns back, walks to the door, tries the knob which, thankfully, works. That's a relief.

"Well, too bad," Miniver says sympathetically. "Though no one's making you leave even if you can. Want a drink?" he offers again. Mainly because Gordon vaguely resembles Miniver's boyfriend.

Though Gordon's Narrative will hopefully take no offence that Miniver thinks his boyfriend is hotter.

No offense is taken, of course.

"I kind of have to leave eventually," Gordon says, with a vague gesture to the door. "I have a job and... things. But right now, yes, a drink sounds like a good idea."

In actuality, besides his job, there aren't many reasons to go back. And he doesn't like his job all that much. But that's Gordon for you - not particularly happy unless he's miserable somehow.

"Well apparently the world wanted to take a break from you for a little while." Grin. "Sit." Miniver waves a rat over. Yes, a rat. "Tell it what you want."

Gordon sits, but the rat only gets a raised eyebrow and a puzzled glance to Miniver. He's used to rats, but they try to keep them out of sight where he works. Violation of health codes and all.

"It's a rat."

"Yeah. No. It's a waitrat. See? They bring you stuff. Get it? Isn't it cool?"

"Cool," Gordon says dryly, "is not necessarily the word I would choose."

Nevertheless, he gives the waitrat his order, though not without a good deal of skepticism.

[ooc: Sleep well! :D]

Miniver places an order for hot cocoa with extra marshmallows (because it's really all about the marshmallows) and the rat scampers off.

It returns shortly with their orders.

"See?" Miniver says smugly.

Gordon's impressed. Still... unsettled, but impressed.

"It would be nice if we could train the ones at home to be that useful." Then again, if they did, he might be out of a job.

"New York rats are too smart to work for what they can get free. I think these ones are enchanted or somethin'."

"Well, you're right about the New York rats, at least. I can't say much to the enchantment." Magic is, obviously, not Gordon's thing.

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