milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

axel

(no subject)

It's a little like a bad joke, but at least it's not a dirty one. Allen knows enough of those to last him well into ... well, the rest of his life, really. They're all funny, but no one he knows these days laughs at them. This is a good thing.

So a guy walks into a bar ...

This guy is sopping wet and wishing his well-made, silver-lined coat was actually waterproof. At least this bar is warm and dry, and from the smell of it, probably has food as well.

Timcampi hides in his coat sleeve. He's not terribly fond of wet weather, either.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"My name's Axel," he replies, doing the same. Even through two gloves, Allen might notice the very abnormally high body temperature.

His handshake is a lot better than it used to be.

"I should probably tell you the rules - there are a few of them around here."

Allen rubs the back of his head. "That would be appreciated, Mr. Axel," he says, not bothered in the least by the lack of a surname. Most of Cross' acquaintances had only one name, after all.

He notices how warm Axel's hand is, but he attributes it to how cold his extremities are from being so wet. "Ah, I meant to ask earlier - may I have a cup of tea, please?"

"No Mister, just Axel," he corrects. "You want to try some of mine?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "All right, hold on--"

He scans the room, and after a moment, snags a waitrat, ordering an extra cup for Allen.

"This one's on me, but your first drink here otherwise is free," he explains. "Most people need one after seeing that." He gestures at the window.

The tea, for the record, is very spicy - and very hot. It hasn't cooled since Axel ordered it.

Allen considers this. "I'm just relieved that time has stopped," he decides, sipping the tea. "Oh! Ah ..." it is hot, but in a way, very refreshing. Tea should have flavor, after all.

"..... Wait. Was that a rat?" he asks after a moment.

"Waitrats," Axel affirms. "They handle most of the fetching and carrying, although there are a few people on the waitstaff. Now, as for the rules. There are only three that you really need to worry about," he starts explaining.

"One: No violence in the bar. Out back is another story, to a certain degree. Two: No outside business. That means that even if your most hated enemy walks through those doors, you're not allowed to make an issue of it. Most people don't really follow that one though," he observes. "And three: No sex or nudity in the bar. There're rooms upstairs if you really want to.

"Got it memorised?"

Allen listens attentively. His lips quirk at the first; no AKUMA here, then. The second makes him twitch; he would have a hard time simply ignoring a Noah if he saw one. But the third makes him blush, thinking of Master. "N-no, I think I'm fine," he says. "I understand. Memorized ...?" he says the last word like a question, wondering why Axel keeps asking that.

A waitrat. That is going to take some getting used to.

"Committed to your memory," Axel explains. "Stuck in your head. So you don't forget."

"I know what it means," Allen says, flushing. "I just wonder why you say that so often."

A waitrat returns with his tea. He takes it absently, trying not to stare.

"Habit," Axel replies. It's as true as any other answer.

Allen looks at the way Axel lounges and wishes he could be so at ease. As it is, his hands shake a bit as he sips his very spicy tea. "Thank you for the help, M--Axel," he says.

At the same time Timcampi escapes Allen's sleeve and nestles itself in Allen's hair. Allen is pretty sure he's going to go bald in that spot from Timcampi making its nest there.

Axel's eyes flick up at the motion, and he raises an eyebrow.

"What's that?" he asks.

Allen raises his gaze and his eyebrows. Of course, he can't see Tim on top of his head. "My master's golem," he says nonchalantly, dismissive of the matter. "So how did I get to this bar, exactly? I mean, I can't leave so I guess it doesn't really matter, but ... how?"

"That's a damned good question," Axel admits. "People have been trying to figure that out for a while - I think there're a few who have some ideas, but transdimensional displacement isn't exactly my area of expertise."

"Trans-what?" For Allen, who knows how to read just about enough to get through his favorite passages of the Bible and the menu of an English diner, the word completely sails over his head.

He reconsiders. "Perhaps I don't need to know," he decides. He has the feeling the explanation would be like Komui attempting to explain Innocence.

"But these people must come from ... everywhere," he remarks, looking back at the bar.

"Yeah," Axel says. "Different times, different places, differnt worlds. We're at the end of everything here. The last hurrah. The day the light goes out for good. Every hour, on the hour."

"That sounds depressing," Allen answered, taking a bigger gulp of tea. It put his nerves on fire.

Axel seemed quite comfortable with this. But then, Allen *was* in a bar where time - even if it was on the verge of ending - was apparently frozen. Even if the end of the 'universe' was going to be in seconds, the bar would never feel it, theoretically.

This made Allen's head hurt. Tim nibbled his hair.

"I've never found it to be that way," Axel replies. "It's a great show."

Allen just smiled. Smiles were wonderful things; they deflected most anything. Occasionally, even punches.

Funny how that works.

"You okay, Allen?"

Axel understands smiles.

Allen blinks at him. "Ah, I think," he says. "A little ... overwhelmed, perhaps." A horrible thought occurs to him. "Will they take my currency!?" he asks, abruptly urgent. "I need a place to stay, so--!"

"Yeah, yeah. Bar accepts any currency you have."

Which reminds him.

"And I almost forgot to mention - Bar? Is sentient."

Allen falls back with relief, but the next sentence makes him pause. "Is ... it's what?" he asks.

"Sentient. Has a mind of her own," he adds. "If you need anything, just ask the counter."

"Just ... speak to the counter," Allen repeats.

He pauses. "Does it talk back? I once met a gate that really despised cursed people."

Blink.

"No, I've never heard of her talking back," he replies. "She'll give you notes though."

He pauses.

"What, are you cursed?"