milliways_bar | (no subject)

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A passing observer would be forgiven for not recognizing Nicholas Angel as he enters the bar this particular evening. He's dressed in casual clothing, has two empty cans and a half-empty bowl of popcorn in hand, and he actually looks... relaxed.

As the door closes on what a keen listener might recognize as the beginning of an all-night Lethal Weapon marathon, he suddenly realizes that his snack break has taken a bit of a detour. He doesn't seem overly concerned by this until he spots a certain familiar face...

And he'd been having such a nice night.

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Karma, it seems, has struck Simon Skinner tonight! Somebody is staring at him, and that somebody doesn't seem happy to see him. Skinner can't understand why. He has no idea who the other man is, and when he tries to scan his memory for any names that match faces that match his, all Skinner gets is a roadblock.

He's so tired.

But he can fight it off. He starts to make way towards Nicholas, determined to figure out who he is and how he knows him.

For a moment, he wonders if he should just turn around and leave, but his confusion is tempered by a wave of anger as Skinner approaches.

Being confronted by a man he's pretty certain he arrested for multiple counts of murder has that effect on him, apparently.

Woah, Nelly! That wave of anger is hard to miss, even when you're slowly being attacked by the sleepies. Skinner stops in front of Nicholas, fixing him with a scrutinizing gaze. As scrutinizing as you can get when you're tired as hell. He folds his arm--no, first he yawns, then folds his arms across his chest, and asks, "Do I know you?"

.. Well, that was about the last greeting he expected.

"What?"

"Do I--" Skinner yawns again (he's polite enough to cover it up) "--know you?" Skinner says something else that might be "You seem to know me," but it runs together the way words do when one is tired. He starts to take a keen interest in the floor. Such a nice floor...

Well... it's not inconceivable that there could be two identical people in a place like this.

Right?

"You look like someone I know" seems to be the safest thing to say, at any rate.

"Oh," he says sleepily. "Well, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Simon Skinner--"

Which is the last thing he said before he closed his eyes and collapsed forward.

On Nicholas.

Who makes such a fantastic mattress.

He flails slightly and catches Skinner as he falls.

This is really not how he'd hoped to spend his evening.

Danny's been sitting on the couch all this time with his finger on the pause button of the remote, waiting patiently for Nicholas to come back from the kitchen with a refilled popcorn bowl and two fresh cans of lager. But after an inordinate amount of time passes (Danny can only read the FBI warning so many times) he yells out,

"Oi, Nick! Did you get lost in the fridge or what?"

No response. Huh? Huh.

Right.

Danny gets up and goes into the kitchen.

And then suddenly he's in the Space Bar again.

"Bollocks..."

He sees Nicholas and is about to call out to him when he stops in his tracks because OMGWTF HE'S HOLDING SIMON SKINNER.

He deposits Skinner none too gently in the nearest empty booth and heads over.

"Don't even ask, because I don't know."

*He clutches Nicholas's shirt sleeve, shooting confused looks between him and Skinner sleeping in the booth.*

Well, I'm gonna ask you anyways: what the bloody hell's goin' on?

"I don't know," he repeats. "He was acting really strangely, and then he just passed out."

He hasn't even begun to wrap his head around the question of what Skinner's doing here in the first place.

Very, very confused.

"What d'ye mean, strangely? Like...like, 'Hi, you kicked my arse and then made me put a spike through my chin and I hate you,' or like, 'Hi, how are you, care for a pint, lovely day, innit?'"

Nick would have found that first reaction completely normal under the circumstances.

"Actually, like he didn't even recognize me."

He raises his eyebrows, then crinkles them up as he turns to stare at the sleeping man.

"Now that is strange..."

Suddenly a mischievous giggle bubbles up. He eyes Nicholas like a naughty schoolboy.

"Wanna mess about with 'im?"

There's a brief hint of a smile on his face.

"As tempting as that is, I think we should figure out what he's doing here first."

Danny instantly sees the tiny smile but- ooooooh so close. Oh well. He shrugs.

"Havin' a nap, is wot he's doin'."

"Yes, but how'd he get here? Unless things have really changed, they don't let incarcerated killers out for a little drink or two."

Sigh. Nick's thinking again. So Danny tries doing some of it himself.

"Well...I dunno. Maybe...maybe he ain't the same Simon Skinner? I mean, like, maybe he's a Simon Skinner from a parallel dimension or something."

"Maybe..."

And something finally clicks in his brain.

".. or maybe he didn't recognize me because he hasn't met me yet."

There's a long pause. Some blinking. More long pausing. Then:

"I still think we should mess about with 'im."

"If he's from our past, we'll need to be careful."

Oh, Nicholas. You and your logic.

The cogs are really turning now.

"Oh... Yeah... Yeah! 'Cos if you change the past...you change the future. And the future...is now. I think."

He looks as if he's gotten dizzy.

"I need a sit-down."

He pulls a chair out at the nearest table and plops himself onto it.

"So do I."

He collapses onto the chair across from Danny, still watching Skinner like a hawk. Much as he'd hate to admit it, he's a bit at a loss for what to do.

Skinner, meanwhile, is sleeping soundly in his booth. He's sleeping so soundly that he starts to snore soundly snores.