milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The first thing Doc sees when he opens his eyes is the top of Bar smashed up against his face.

Ow, that hurts.

The second thing Doc sees when he opens his eyes is Will, slumped over next to him, his face also smashed into Bar.

That really can't be comfortable.

Upon sitting up, Doc realizes that for one thing, his head really, really hurts. His mouth is dry and he feels like he fell off of a horse and rolled down a cliff, sore back and neck and everything's a little bit fuzzy.

There's a memory of singing and another brief hint of some poetry, and women's breasts...

"What the fargin' 'ell," he groans, before he reaches out a hand to poke the other outlaw. Maybe Will remembers something.

((Two pups, two muns, one post! It's a special. Both Doc and Will are here, and hung over, feel free to poke them as they look horribly miserable after having passed out and spent the night sleeping on Bar.))

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Will's glad to see Rabastan doing better and the coffee tastes lovely espeically after its been lightened a good bit, in some ways, Will is just rather English,

"Aye, an ye're doin' fine, glad ye got somethin' to eat then."

Doc drinks his black. He's used to grounds floating about in it and it being lukewarm or scorched from being heated over the fire.

It was just a goose. If he'd had his gun, they would have had a problem.

Because dead goose all over Bar, eh, no thanks.

He sips at his coffee and swallows, enjoying the bitter bite of it to wake him up.

"Least wasn't rocks in your drink, 'stead of ice."

"Actually there was a few pieces of pumice in my drink this morning. Didn't ask for anything on the rocks; they just, well, appeared."

He laughs a little.

That? Is funny.

"She also gave me scrambled eggs with shells in them. Think she's still a bit loopy."

"Oh, na surprised considerin' 'ow much she 'ad to drink, pirate just kept it comin', 'e's 'bout as bad as 'ellboy is with beer."

Will nods very firmly at that as he takes another sip of coffee,

"Ne'er drink with 'ellboy 'less ye know 'xcatly 'ow much ye wish to drink."

Will's accent still takes getting used to. But Doc manages, somewhat, and then snorts softly.

"Not going to be drinking more than a dram or two for awhile," Doc promised. "And definitely no rum."

Not until they get that pirate.

But the wizard's name escapes him.

"Forgive me, sir, but if you introduced yourself, I was to hungover to remember," Another sip of coffee.

"Probably for the best. And nothing from Bar until she recovers. From the sounds of it Jack got her utterly soaked."

So busy with making fun of Will and Doc he'd forgotten to tell Doc who he is.

Oops.

"I'm Rabastan Lestrange, by the way. From England, though you can probably tell."

"Aye, sounds a fair plan an we'll make sure the pirate pays."

The coffee is being good and Will feels more awake and though his head hurts, its not as bad as before.

"Doc Scurlock. United States."

He sips at the coffee and then stifles a yawn as he sits there at the bar.

"1878."

"Ah. An American. I've been to America. Some place called "Detroit".

Pause.

"It was 1997 when I came here, though given the way the Magical World works, it might as well be 1697."

The coffee is good and Will just nods at what Rabastan says, not really paying that much attention since coffee is helping a lot,

"Aye, though ne'er seen any folks but monks wear robes like ye do."

Doc nods. "Most people here at the Bar don't wear anything close to what I'm used to," he says. "Some...sort of but most not."

A pause, for thought.

"Detroit's up north. By Canada."

"We all do," he says, smiling. "It's a kind of tradition. Though perhaps I could get used to Muggle clothing."

It'd be far more practical when learning to use the sword and the bow [but not the axe unless there's a Dwarf about].

"Canada. I've been there. More often than I visited America, which was only the once. It's quite nice there. Not too populated which makes setting up a Wizarding community quite easy."

"Aye, tradition tis 'mportant. When went through to 'merica was big cities and too big, couldna e'en see the sky."

It would be for the best if Rabastan wore more practical clothing for training, but Will hasn't figured out how to bring it up yet.

Doc nods. "Americans...they think that they need to take over everything. Land for everyone, everything has to be owned, even though people already been there, the indians, like Chavez," he says. "But New Mexico ain't like that, plenty of open sky."

He likes the idea of open sky.

He just nods. It's not something he's overly familiar with, so there's not much he can say.

"It must be a nice place," he says. In an open place like that you can live wherever you want and no-one will know you're there.

It's what wizarding society prefers, though when you live on an island, open space free of Muggles is at a premium.

"Aye, does, someday twill 'ave to show ye Sherwood, tis nowhere else like it, she's just Sherwood."

Will's smile is the nicest its been all day since its Sherwood forest and is home even when there's trouble.

Doc notices the way Will talks about Sherwood. It's like how he talks about home.

Home is...nice.

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