milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Adam, still with a visible black eye and a nasty cut on his lip, swishes into the bar, talking a mile a minute on his cellphone.

"I need you to run that worldwide capability search for me; I can't have you wasting time updating the volumes--no, just forget about goddamn Interpol already, Becky! Jesus H. Christ."

He gracefully dodges a waitrat with a feat of gymnastics impossible to pull off without being Adam's special weird-ass brand of double-jointed, and collapses into a chair by the fire.

"I'll call you back."

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The mile a minute talking and strange acrobatics attract the attention of a certain cat sitting up in the rafters.

The man seems distracted, which serves Puss' purposes just nicely.

As soon as Adam sits Puss pounces, dropping from the rafters and landing on the small tabletop beside the man.

"Ha-ha!" The cat in boots and hat crows when he lands.

Adam yelps like a little girl.

"What's so funny?" he snits, once his heart has stopped pounding.

Puss is smirking but hides it with a lift of his chin and twirl of his whiskers. "Nothing señor. I am conducting a survey here in the bar." He removes his hat as he speaks and pulls out a small note pad and pencil then puts the hat back on. "On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the highest score how would you rate that pounce?"

Adam snaps his phone shut with a murderous look and shoves it back into his pocket.

He's tempted to give it a 1 just out of spite, but since he's on a break anyway, there's no reason why he can't consider it.

"Seven and a half for surprise factor. I was distracted, so that's like cheating."

"It is not." Puss argues, looking indignant. "That was a perfectly legal pounce. You were in the main bar area, that is open game."

"But I was talking. Talking and doing work. If I were just sitting down having a drink, and you still managed to surprise me, that would be fair game."

He shakes his head. Honestly.

"Pfft." Puss waves his paw and shakes his head, "You were not paying attention an that is not my fault. That is like the zebra saying its unfair the lion pounced him because he was eating grass talking about the hippos. If that was a real attack you would have been in very big trouble, it is a lesson to you señor."

"Which is why I take my breaks in here, so that I don't have to worry about being attacked," says Adam bad-temperedly.

This does not explain the black eye and busted lip, but...y'know.

"Attack can come from anytime, anywhere." Puss replies. "Besides, you said you were working. That is not a break." He grins smugly.

"I will write down what you said, but I do not think you are being very honest about your score." He makes a note and then tucks pad and pencil away again. "Practice is always good, it helps you avoid real trouble when it comes." He's not going to point out the injuries the man has, oh no.

"I'm never not honest." This is...mostly true.

"And thanks for the insight, but I don't think I need your kind of practice."

You'll have to excuse Adam; he's terribly overworked at the moment and hasn't slept much in the past week.

Also, he has a severe and terminal case of bitchitude.

"Your eye says different." Puss notes. Okay, so he is going to bring it up. Oh well.

"In any case, for your participation today I shall buy you a drink. What would you like?"

Adam is torn. On the one hand, he is rather sensitive about that injury. On the other, there is not much that free alcohol can't cure.

Since arguing about the black eye will probably lead to him having to explain how he got it (which is a rather embarrassing story), and drinking will make the eye hurt less, he decides to be civil.

"Uh, a Vodka Collins, I guess." He settles back onto the couch.

"I guess I could upgrade the score to an eight," he says grudgingly.

"Very good." Puss grins, clapping his paws together. "Gracias. And I shall return."

He hops off the table and hurries away, returning with Adam's chosen drink and a small cerveza for himself. "And here you are." He holds up the drink with a smile.

Eh, Adam's a sucker. He melts easily. ~~Especially when bribed.~~

"Thanks," he says gratefully, taking a generous sip.

"God. After the day I've had, I could use this."

"You are welcome." Puss grins, hopping up and settling on the arm of the couch. "Would you like to talk about it?" He offers with a smile.

"Uh, well..."

Adam sighs and rubs his eyes, wincing as he touches the bruise.

"A former president was assassinated yesterday, and it's just...a total nightmare for a lot of reasons."

"Assassination? That is terrible. Were you injured during that?"

"What?"

Oh, he only wishes.

"God, no. I, um, got in a bar fight." Yes. A bar fight. A manly bar fight.

"No, I just read about it, but...y'know, he was a good president, and it's just the worst thing that's happened so far in a long string of bad things tha have been happening to my country."

Skwisgaar was dizzy just watching the gymnastics. Which, probably, was why he applauded, well, golf-clapped, "Dat's is was veries... uhm...." You'll have to forgive him, he's been drinking since yesterday, "Is was veries bendings." He nodded solemnly as soon as he'd said it.

His side hurts a bit from the maneuver, but anyone else might have ended up in traction, so he's rather proud of himself.

He eyes Skwisgaar. "...danke?"

(Hey, if he's got no idea what language that was, he might as well cycle through the few he knows until he gets it right.)

There was blinking, and then a brow arch, "What's is the fuG#s you's just says to me?"

Y'know, just in case it had been an insult.

And yes, that was a verbal G# overlaying the curse.

"...I asked you first."

Of course he didn't, but shhhh.

"Likes flyings fuG#k you is dids a thing like dat."

And there it was again.

Despite the cursing, ish, he didn't seem terribly confrontational.

The lovely thing about Adam is that he can be perfectly G-rated and still radiate an aura of confrontation, so he's got Skwisgaar covered there.

"I said thanks. Jeez."

He covers one ear. Ow.

"How do you do that?" He's not at all sure he'll be able to comprehend the answer.

"oh." And then he shrugged, "well I guess dat's is okays dens."

Because c'mon? Why would he argue with someone for thanking him?

Aside from 'because'.

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