milliways_bar | (no subject)

"I'm from Denver, but in theory I'm moving to Boston soon... and, well, I was bound, but I went home, but it wasn't quite from when I was from. It was... a really odd day, actually, so I came back quickly. I haven't actually tried to leave by myself again, yet."

She leans back in the booth, stretching her legs out a bit, and laughs. "Are they different? Sure, go ahead and tell me both?"

"I think I've been to Denver. Fought a duel in Boston..." He sips his tea and there's a small frown. "I seem to do all right getting back and forth, of course, I tend to show up here on accident, not by choice."

He smiles - yeah, the smiles are getting a little bigger as the day goes on. "Of course. Being chased, my favorite place was, probably... Italy, travelled to on my own - Japan."

"Wow, you've... certainly covered a lot of ground... when are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"1998 or 9. But, my extensive travel has more to do with the fact that I was born in 1518," he replies casually and sips his tea again.

She raises her eyebrows, and if she wore glasses she would probably peer over them in surprise. But she doesn't. Oh well.

After a moment, she replies.

"You're... not actually the oldest person I've met. I think."

"Yeah, I heard there's an angel or something in the vicinity of 4000 years or so and there's another like me who's creeping toward 5000 - he's got about 500 years to go. I'm just a pup."

"Well, there's the angel, and the demon, and Nick, who I think said he's... what, eight hundred?"

She smiles a little at him.

"You still make me feel really young, though. I'm only in my twenties."

He nods. "Of course, how could I forget Nick?" He gives a bit of a roll of his eyes, but there's a smile in them - still. "I believe Van Helsing is actually much older than he remembers also, though guessing a year is nearly impossible."

He slides his empty cup into the middle of the table.

"If it makes you feel any better, I died - the first time - when I was eighteen."

She winces.

"Noo... can't say that that really does, actually. Wait, the first time? How many times have you died?" She raises an eyebrow.

He leans back in the chair and scratches at his chin, idly.

"A few. Seven or eight during the duel in Boston alone. Crazy Baron," he snorts.

The other eyebrow gets lonely, and goes on a quest to find the first to keep it company.

"... care to explain?"

"About the duel?" He half-shrugs. "Baron stabbed me about seven times. Finally, after I stood up for about the seventh time, I just apologized for calling his wife a bloated warthog - which, by the way, she was - and I left. I probably would have fared a bit better in the sword fighting had I not been half-full of some form of alcohol or other. Maybe quite a few forms," he finished with a grin.

She laughs. Something about this story is just... hilarious, really.

"That... heh. I don't know what to say to that, really, but... my question was more, how you could die seven or eight times and still consider yourself alive..."

"Immortality," he answers as though it's the same as answering that one puts sugar or milk into one's coffee in the morning to take the bitterness away.

She considers this for a moment.

"But... if you're immortal... how is it you're dying in the first place? I mean, sure, a mortal wound, getting stabbed in the heart or something that would kill someone... but do you actually die?"

He laughs - hers is a common question.

"For a moment or so, yeah. What seems to happen is that the mortal body does it's dying thing, then, once it's all healed, revives. Or so we've sort of figured."

She smiles a little. "That's... I dunno. Does it hurt?"

He shakes his head - but his heart's not in it - really.

"No, it tickles. Of course it hurts." He's smiling - he's answered that one before too.

"Sometimes it hurts a lot. Broken bones are almost worse than bullet wounds."

She leans back, and manages to keep a smile, although it's not a particularly happy one.

"Don't know if it sounds like it's worth the tradeoff, that."

He shrugs.

"I try not to die any more than I have to. But, it is nice to know that if something happens, like, I fall off a building or get into a car accident, that I'll be okay sometime afterward."

He wrinkles his nose a bit.

"By the way, word of advice, don't fall off a building. Hurts like hell," he adds with a grin.

"I'll... make sure to keep that in mind, I guess..."

She manages to grin back at him eventually.

"How on earth did we manage to get to such a morbid subject, anyway? Let's get back to something lighthearted?"

He shrugs and grins.

"Okay, so, what should we change the subject to?"

"Heck, I dunno... tea or coffee? Have we covered that one yet?"

Her greygreen eyes are dancing with laughter.

It's a bit of a change, really.

He laughs.

"Not yet, but if we're going to discuss beverages, I suggest Scotch vs. Tequilla."

She smirks a little.

"Is that an offer, or a challenge?"