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most of the surprise out of his expression, though - he's remarkably calm for someone whose place of occupation has been replaced by an unfamiliar bar.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 doesn't swear a lot - usually he can find more eloquent ways of expressing himself - but this seems like a good exception. So there's some soft cursing under his breath before he answers.

"Great. Well. The world doesn't end at the end of the millennium, at least, then. There's something good to know."

"There is that, yeah. But this is the end of the universe. I don't know how it works, and I don't plan on asking. I'll settle for the extra time."

"The end of the... what?"

"End of the universe. There's a window, but the state you're in, you probably don't want to have a look now."

(OOC: And now I call slowtime. Should be around some tomorrow.)

"...What would I see, if I looked out the window?"

He's not going to go right over and look. Better to ask first. Because there are some very scary possibilities going through his mind right now - and in the back of his mind, he's wondering why on earth, even if he'd gone crazy, he'd imagine something like this. Usually when he runs into crazy people on the street, they're worried about aliens or the government. Not bars and dead drag queens at the end of the universe.

"A lot of stars exploding." Might as well go for the honest answer.
"And you're probably not dreaming or anything, if that's what you're thinking. I kinda think this place is even beyond Maureen's imagination, and she's... pretty out there."

"A figment of my imagination would probably tell me that it's not a dream too," Gordon says, though it's probably just for the sake of being difficult.

Angel grins. "Maybe, but I doubt it's all in your head anyway - the place was pretty well established when I got here. Besides, how often do figments of your imagination serve actual food?"

Gordon considers for a moment, and then admits finally, "Not often."

"There you go, then. First drink's free - after that they run tabs, but Mark'll probably cover yours once he finds out you're here."

Gordon's lips twist into a sardonic grimace. "I'd rather he didn't."

"You'll have to take that up with him. He probably won't take no for an answer very easily, but you can try."
Mark did learn from the best, after all.

"Great," Gordon mutters, looking none too pleased. "Tell him I said not to, if you see him before I do."

"I will."
But he makes no promises that Mark won't try to find some way to help.

"Thank you."

Gordon's not one for being helped. If Mark wants to help, he'd be best doing it as secretly as possible.

Knowing Mark, help could mean gainful employment.
"There's really only three rules around here - no violence, grudges, or naked in the bar. And if you recognize someone from a book or a TV show or something - happens more often than you might think, around here - it's not really considered polite to say anything about it to them. A few people do know, but still."
For those who don't, no need to bring on existential crises.

"Great. Thanks." If his words sound a little terse and clipped... well, part of that's just his usual tone, but the fact that it's a little more so is probably a result of stress.

At least those rules shouldn't be hard to remember.

Stress is understandable. Weird-ass bar showing up out of nowhere, and all that.
"You want something to drink?"

Gordon rubs at his forehead. "Give me a moment while I debate whether getting something with alcohol in it would make this better or worse."

"No problem."
Buys Angel some time to pick a mode of ordering.

After a moment or two, Gordon comes to the conclusion that the alcohol can wait. And then he turns his attention back to Angel.

"If it's rude to mention that people are... fictional, is it also rude to say that the last time I saw you, you were dead?"

Tact, Gordon. Learn it some time.

"I'm hardly the only dead person around here, and you're not the first to take it as a shock. I'd say I got better, but that's a little misleading."

Gordon glances down, silently thoughtful.

"The afterlife's a bar, then?"

Not what he'd have thought. But then, his expectation for the afterlife was... well, nothing, so...

"Sort of? I think it tends more toward a stop along the way than a proper afterlife, and not everyone here's dead. But I'm in no hurry to try the door."
Translation: Angel's not moving on without Collins.

"Mmm. Purgatory, then. Lovely."

Not that Gordon much believes in religion, but... it's logical, as much as he's managed to find anything logical here.