milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Everyone's favorite evil supermarket manager is stationed at a table, glad the bar has resumed distribution of his regular clothes, even if the colors are all wrong. The khakis he usually wears on non-business excursions are today a drab olive brown like color, and the buttoned down shirt is tan. Normal people might interpret this as a suggestion to wear different clothes, but Simon Skinner, as many people in the bar have figured out by now, is not what we'd call "normal." He thinks bar's silly tampering with his wardrobe is a bad joke. Once she realizes he isn't laughing, she'll switch back to his normal and redundant wardrobe again. It will all work out!

Right?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Disgruntled werewolf at 6:00!

Actually today he's more of a disgruntled american soldier watching the newspaper with a critical eye. The newcomer (He smells new at least) is noted.

He pulls the paper up and continues to scan it, disgruntled.

But it's 7:00pm EDT!

>.>

That American soldier certainly looks disgruntled. It amuses Skinner. Americans are funny people, largely because they aren't from Sandford. So the disgruntled werewolf now has an amused evil supermarket manager looking at him with a smirk.

Hard to not notice somethin' like that. Muldoon sets the paper down carefully. No reason he can't be cheerful despite the fact that this guy's grinning like a mustachioed man in some soap-box serial.

"...New here?"

No reason we can't be civil huh?

No reason at all.

Skinner nods. "And rather trapped."

Muldoon's expression of sympathy is genuine, "...My sympathies. This place decided to pop up on my way to the fuckin' can. Some kinda-" He shakes his head and nods, "...Heard about bein' stuck. Haven't had it happen myself."

He holds out a hand, "Lt. Muldoon, US. Army."

Skinner leans over and shakes the man's hand as firmly as possible. One might get the impression that, for as complacent as this man looks, he could easily kill someone with his hands.

"Simon Skinner. You're very fortunate not to have had your freedom stolen from you."

Muldoon reads things like that. Very easily. Hmm.

He's making damn sure to remember what this man smells like too, "...'ve had my freedom taken away back home before. Mean to make damn sure it doesn't happen again."

A firm and decisive nod to go with his own equally firm handshake, "S'place ain't too bad though. Just cause I haven't been stuck doesn't mean that I haven't stuck around. 'course Any place beats the box."

Skinner nods, as if he knows. He doesn't know, and he doesn't care, but he acts like he does, anyway. "I'm sure that it is, but I would appreciate more if I had the freedom to appreciate it on my own terms."

Skinner is not whiny at all!

"...Definin' things like Freedom's a fuckin' hard thing to do. Still though. See your point. Definately see your point."

He nods, "What would you do? I mean honestly."

"Honestly? I run a supermarket in a village by the name of Sandford."

Equating freedom to the running of a supermarket's a new one.

"...S'not a Ralphs then I take it? Or a-" he waves a hand, "Some sort a franchise?"

He meant more than that!

"Somerfield."

"....That'd be an English Franchise then? S'big as Ralphs? I mean, those things're everywhere.."

"I'm unfamiliar with this 'Ralphs' chain." And so with that subject. "Suffice it to say that Somerfield is the best supermarket franchise in the whole of England."

"...Take your word for it. Last time I was in England I was there for an hour. Not really time to take stock of things. And 'm not in a real hurry to go again."

He eyes the paper and decides to discreetly push it away, "...No offense. Still though. Your town nice?"

Now why on God's green earth would he not want to go back to England? That's as perplexing as not wanting to life in Sandford!

"Of course it's nice," he says with a hint of indignity.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only