(no subject)

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

He had stopped to have a smoke out of the wind, and there had been the door there.

He had remembered the door from last time--he had tried for a ong time to find the door to that shady bar he had visited the once, but every time he thought he found it, it turned out to be a door to a secret society's headquarters or one of those brothels with the people in funny black masks and whips and chains.

Vimes hoped that someday he would ruthlessly strike the images he had seen dead, and cursed the fact that he couldn't use alcohol to do it. He didn't know dwarves had such a penchant for shiny, black leather...

Again, he wondered what sort of place this was, like maybe one of thsoe odd shops that disappeared when you tried to find it again. He settled down at the bar.

"A...milk. Please," he said, and he looked around the room. "You seem to have a rat problem," he said to the bar, in general, stomping very hard on the floor.

Comments

[balletrat]

*Meg eyes Vimes warily.*

Don't you bother the rats, they're just doing their job. What's a flic doing here?

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

Vimes has no idea what a flic is, as he's barely on speaking terms with his own language (and has been made to sleep on the couch quite a few times), but he goes on without mentioning it.

"They're doing a great job of dirtying up the place," Vimes says, pulling out his silver cigar case and lighting one up. He puffs thoughtfully. "What's a young thing like you doing in a place like this? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

He hopes she isn't what he thinks she is. He hates seeing kids her age become seamstresses...

[balletrat]

They're doing a great job of making up for the fact that we're seriously understaffed. *Meg glances at a rat, which scurries over helpfully with coffee. She looks pleased, before returning to glowering at the clearly-law-enforcement-type.* And seventeen-or-eighteen-or-thereabouts-approximately is not where I'm from. And there are lots worse places I could be.

Er. Have you been here before, or do you need the whole explanation thing? Especially - *She eyes his badge -* the bit about no duty in the bar.

[street-sparrow.livejournal.com]

Gavroche bounces in through the painting and over to Meg and Vimes. He stops short suddenly, eyeing Vimes with suspicion - he can spot a policeman at fifty paces.

"Hi Meg."

[balletrat]

*Meg glances at Gavroche. The glance says clearly, "Yeah. You know." Which is probably not very specific, but gets the point across.*

Hey, gamin.

This is Monsieur I-don't-know-his-name-yet. What's your name, Monsieur?

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

"Sam Vimes," he says gruffly. "But you can call me Mister Vimes." It isn't an offer.

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

"Now you," Vimes said, puffing away, "You are too young to be in here, magical bar or not." He eyed the kid for a long time, squinting. He puffed again at his cigar and said, "Kid, you want something to eat?"

There wasn't a (gasp!) soft heart under that gruff exterior, oh no...

[street-sparrow.livejournal.com]

Gavroche is torn! On the one hand, food. On the other, authority figure.

His stomach wins, as it usually does.

"Yes please. And I sort of live here."

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

"Sorry, you just looked a bit younger. And I don't need an explanation," Vimes said, sipping his milk. "I overheard enough last time." He puffs on his cigar again, oblivious of his milk mustache.

[balletrat]

*Meg shrugs.* I'm small. And fair enough. *She grins.* Long as you're not going around arresting people we'll get on okay.

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

"As long as no-one goes around doing bad things, I won't arrest them" Vimes answered honestly. He peered at this kid, too, she was almost as skinny as the other one. He sighed at himself. "You want something to eat?"

[eternal-boy.livejournal.com]

[[[[Massively...massively fangirls.]]]]

[95-tan.livejournal.com]

[OOP: DITTO WITH A CHERRY ON TOP.]

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

[locks_it_up]

Death grins at the cop from further down the bar, and raises her glass at him in salute.

(ooc: Have I mentioned the ridiculous amounts of fangirling? 'Cause... yeah. *FANGIRLS*)

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

For a second, Vimes forgets about the kids standing around him. The woman up the bar looks so...familiar.

And then he realizes who she is.

He feels like he should be afraid, but then there isn't really any point. They've met before, anyway.

"You look a bit different where I come from," he said to her, and he sipped his milk.

[locks_it_up]

She smiles.

"Yeah, I do. You've got nothing to worry about from me here, Sam."

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

Vimes nods. He has a greta deal of respect for her. And at the same time, he wishes she could be more fair, but then, he's the one that takes care of the people that don't let it be fair.

[kabeleced]

[[OOC: *fangirls so, so bad*]]

[cantstophere.livejournal.com]

Due to the wonders of Millitime I found myself wandering along in the strange bar again, wondering what kind of drug the crazy-if-beautiful woman had slipped me the other night...

...and happened along some skinny slob in... chainmail? Dear God. Still, I could tell by his eyes that this was someone Serious. I should watch my step.

I bobbed a greeting to him, hoping to escape notice. I am, of course, a full-blooded Freak, but there are some things too Freaky even for me.

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

Vimes zeroes in on the man like a shark on fresh, bloody meat. He grins. It was not a Nice grin, oh no. Things in the wilds of the world have this sort of grin, normally before they eat a small, crunchy animal.

"I'll spot you a round," Vimes says to the man.

[cantstophere.livejournal.com]

The look on his face filled me with a dread I could not describe. I have seen that look on the faces of too many pigs before. But from this freak in his breastplate and chainmail...

Still. I was well within my rights as a citizen to go drinking at a bar, and was not currently doing anything illegal. What could the harm be?

"Sure, why not?"

I was utterly confident as I leaned up against the bar. "So what brings you to this place, stranger?"

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

"Oh, just making my rounds," Vimes says. He looks abck and forth suspiciously, then says quietly. "There's something rather specific I'm making those rounds for, if you follow."

[cantstophere.livejournal.com]

I did not trust this milk-drinking man. He had the lean and hungry look of a natural predator.

"'Fraid I don't. You'd have to be more specific, sir."

[mister-vimes.livejournal.com]

"There are some thing I can't exactly do on duty," Vimes says slyly. "But I'm off duty, see? And it doesn't cause any harm anyway, does it? I don't bother with the liquor, because something's quicker than that..."

He looks at the man with hungry eyes, but it's a sort of hunger that's different from the one before. It's one that echoes of half-empty bottles of Ogden's in desk drawers. "I'm talking about the slag," he whispers. "The rocks. Don't suppose you could set me up, could you?"