milliways_bar | (no subject)

It's been another long day. Another script idea was agreed upon by the assembled scriptwriters and supervisors. Another day in the life of Evelyn Faith Kendall passed, surrounded by hidden cameras and products produced by companies who were paying for the right to make her life comfortable. She was asleep now, all the cameras quietly projecting her quiet, even breathing to the masses.

Adrian Doyle was thinking of stopping by Christof's office before he headed back to his apartment for the night. With a job like his, the apartment was little more than a place to sleep before returning to work.

He had put the script he was currently working on in his sleek, black briefcase, and had just opened his office door to step out into the hall, when he stopped, left foot still suspended above the divide between office-carpet and bar-flooring.

Made you look.

There wasn't supposed to be a bar just outside his office.

The foot is carefully retracted, and the door is closed.

Five minutes later, it opens again, and the tall man in his black suit once again closes the door without stepping through. A hallway is supposed to be on the other side of the door, not a bar. Why won't the doorway realize that?

Ten minutes later, it happens again.

Another ten minutes later, it seems he has given in.

Almost hesitantly, Adrian Doyle steps through the doorway and into the bar, looking around.

"...Hmmm."

Come welcome the newcomer?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, all kinds of places. Some of them are really strange. A guy even made a planet for me once to see. It was amazing."

He laughs, "He made a planet for you to see? Wow."

"That is... just... too much."

Aw, why doesn't anyone ever make the Rider his very own world to hold sway over?

Oh wait.

"Maybe I'll admit that parts of the whole... kidnapping bar thing is nice, just not the door. At least it opened." He had been genuinely frightened there, for a moment, and that hasn't happened in a long time. He doesn't want it to happen again. "But I probably need to get back. It's late, back home; I was just leaving work."

Truman nodded, "Yep, I still got the ring made from some of the material of that planet. Safely stored away. Didn't populate it at all, but just wanted me to see it."

He nodded, "Oh sure, nose to the grindstone kind of business huh? What do you do?"

"At the job, I'm just a supervisor, but when I get my own way, I write. Stories and things, you know. Nothing important. I'll have to see if I'm good enough at it to see if I can afford to write full-time, though." He shrugs, smiling.

"Maybe it'll work out. Hope so."

Truman tilted his head at that, "What kind of stories?"

"Mostly small drama, family stuff. Stressed marriages, couples split because the husband is called away to war, communities banding together to face financial struggles or tensions between different families. Nothing big," he says, grinning wryly. "Haven't even been published."

"I tried my hand at childrens' stories for a while, but I get too wrapped up in character development and motivations behind their actions that I haven't ever finished one I started."

"Oh, just books," Truman relaxed some since he wasn't sure. "Well good luck with that. Sure you'll think of something good that'll wow them."

"Thanks," he grins the grin of a fan who has just received assurance from a TV idol.

Adrian heads back towards the door. "See you, Truman."