milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Enter one Alex West into the bar.

He appears to be in a good mood. He's dressed in casual wear today, no suit -- linen button down shirt, unbuttoned, with a t-shirt beneath and jeans. His boots are free of mud, and he's not covered in snow. He doesn't fall through the door, merely walks through.

Good moods are infectious, right? Alex sure hopes so.

So find him sitting at the bar with a glass of red wine and a smile on his face. Completely botherable.

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"Hello-" Ryan starts when a look of confusion passes over his face.

"You're not James," he says, slightly suspicious, but more like he's trying to figure out a puzzle than anything.

Alex smiles and shakes his head.

"Not James."

The accent is most definitely American, not British.

"But no worries. I get it a lot."

"Hm. My apologies, then," Ryan answers in his own smooth British accent. His head tilts slightly, eyes meeting the unknown man's, though he blinks once or twice.

"Are you a relative of his?" The scent doesn't seem to fit, but it doesn't hurt to ask.

"No. I met him here, though. I do work in London sometimes but I've never run into him."

He offers a hand.

"West. Alex West."

"I doubt you would." Bond doesn't strike him as the type to hang out with his look-alike American counterpart.

Ryan accepts the hand firmly, offering a smile with a hint of teeth to it.

"Captain Richard Ryan."

"Pleasure, sir."

Alex nods.

"I know, right? I'm an archaeologist."

This is slightly disconcerting. He's talking to a man that only looks and sounds like Bond, but has a completely different scent and way of speaking. He keeps frowning without meaning to.

Even the gun oil smell is different.

Ryan shakes his head slightly, arching a brow. "A scientist," he clarifies.

You'll get over the weirdness eventually. Or not.

Alex takes a sip from his glass.

"Captain of what, if I can ask?"

"A captain in Her Majesty's army." He pauses to tilt his head. "Deceased."

Alex's smile fades, for a moment.

"My sympathies."

Beat.

"Buy you a drink?"

"If you'd like," Ryan says with what amounts to a shrug. He's okay with being dead.

"Pint of Guinness," he tells Bar, taking the drink when it appears.

"I thought I dead the first time I showed up," he admits. "But this ain't a half bad place to be."

"There are worst locales to be," Ryan agrees. It certainly isn't what he expected. Well, he doesn't really know what he expected, but it wasn't a bar at the end of the universe.

"Not dead then. Always good to know," he adds a little wryly. "What happened?" It's always a good idea to grab intel about people when freely offered. Let's you know who you're dealing with.

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[Slow = love!]

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