milliways_bar | (no subject)

It's been a really long time since he's seen Elaine. In fact, he can't remember the last time he saw her, but he does know she wasn't looking quite so harried, if that's the right word. He hasn't felt like that himself in months now, and it's such a relief not to be dwelling and dwelling on death, or the nature of death, or what it means, or if he is or if he isn't.

He's just enjoying himself -- against all odds -- and it's a rare night that he's down here by himself but here he is. It feels like it's been ages.

"Hi, Elaine." He's not going to ask if something's bothering her, because that much is clear. But he's more than happy to listen. Tonight, he feels like he has enough calm to coat everyone in the bar... with plenty to spare.

She startles a little. It seems that not very many people know her well enough to call her by name anymore.

"Oh, hello Gren," she says, smiling a little. "And how do you fare this evening?"

She's happy enough, but she's worn out.

"Well." He's not used to the antiquated way of speaking, and the term fare thee well circles around in his brain like the music to a song and he can't make it go away. "And you?"

There's a little sparkle to the blue of his eyes these days; he catches it every time he looks in the mirror. That simple fact fills him with amusement every single time. "It's been a long time since we talked. Good to see that some things are still the same around here."

He's a little bit of a creature of habit; he can't help it. He doesn't need things to stay static -- that's boring -- but sometimes, a familiar sight is a real treat.

"I am well enough, though a little...flustered, at the moment. We got David a puppy for Christmas...and he is still teething," she says, gesturing at the hem of her dress.

"He ate Ryan's shoes the other day. He has shown remarkable patience."

Elaine was rather losing hers.

"But you are looking well, Gren. I am glad to see you looking so."

Ryan, he assumes, is the one with the patience. Not the dog. "So it's a puppy wearing you down." That makes a lot of sense. "I never had one, so I can't even begin to pretend I know the first thing about teething dogs."

And then she goes ahead and compliments him, and his smile widens a little bit. "And thanks. Things have been pretty good."

For a dead man, he almost adds, but doesn't voice it. He doesn't have to: he and Elaine are in the same boat on that one.

"So tell me about the puppy. What's his name? And what does he like to do besides chewing on shoes?"

"I am glad to hear that things have been well with you. The puppy's name is Buster and he is a few months old. Ryan called him a 'beagle' and he is very cute and sweet. But the chewing is very...frustrating."

She smiles. "We bought it for David...he was taking his pet frog for walks and dropping a lot of hints about a dog."

And David had so few friends. And none his own age. He needed something.

"When I was little, I used to drop a lot of hints about pets too. But my mother was always worried about them getting into the art supplies, so we never did. I guess I was easier to train than a dog or a cat."

Then again, he wasn't stuck at the end of the universe on an asteroid so small that he could probably circumnavigate it in a day on foot, although he hasn't tried.

And he probably won't, although there was a time he might have done just that in search of answers.

"I bet David's just thrilled, though. Beagles are cute." For the life of him -- or the death of him -- he can't imagine how frustrating it must be to try to walk a frog.

She grins. "They are. Which prevents me from getting too angry."

And the dog is very cute. And David loves the dog and they do have such fun together.

"So tell me, how have you been keeping busy?"

It isn't often that he finds himself at a loss for words, but for a moment, he smiles and looks down before he finds the right way to put things.

"I... found someone, and that's been keeping me busy."

That's one way to put it.

"A little preoccupied."

Elaine smiles. "Oh, you did? That is a wonderful thing. Will you tell me about it?"

She does like hearing how people meet in this place. And she's very happy for her friend.

"Of course, you do not have to, but I would like to hear."

"Well..."

He hasn't really talked about this to anybody, but it doesn't need to be a secret. They're certainly not trying to keep it quiet. Like he said, he and Faye have been a little preoccupied and he can't think of a better reason than the one they have.

"Actually, it's someone I knew from before. We've both been here a while, and this thing just... decided to happen, I guess."

That's the way things go so often. "Her name is Faye, and she's beautiful."

And women aren't supposed to be his style, and he could care less.

Elaine, it might be said, is a romantic at heart, and this makes her very happy.

"Oh, that's lovely. And you knew her from before?"

She knows better than most how far some people have to journey to find each other.

"What does she look like?"

He can trace her shape with his hands in his sleep now; he suspects he actually does that. But describing her with words... well, what does he say? That she's like a walking torch song? That she's the most beautiful woman at the bar, present company excepted of course, or that she's got the sweetest tilt to her nose and chin or the biggest, greenest eyes? That women aren't his style but he gave up all his notions about himself and his own sexuality with the simple words I think you should stay one night, and that he hardly even knew what he was saying when the words left his own mouth?

No, that's far too personal. Again, he's a little taken aback, but he's a performer and he can do this thing. "She's petite, slender, curvaceous, with legs that go on for miles. Hair so black it's almost purple, short in the back and long in the front. She wears this... mostly yellow outfit, short, with a red sweater and a headband and white boots that go up to her ankles." He's undressed her so many times now that the has the entire sequence memorized. "And lips the color of ripe plums, and green, green eyes. We met on Callisto -- that's where I lived -- when she came into the bar I played at. Then I didn't see her again until here, and we were friends for the longest time."

Then he looked at her differently, or she looked at him differently. He remembers how shy and sly she was when she'd lost her memory and while he doesn't wish amnesia on anybody, it certainly opened one very specific door for them.

He's got no regrets.

She watches his face as he describes her and it's nice to see him look like that. Elaine genuinely feels that everyone should have at least one chance to look like that about someone.

"She sounds lovely, the way you describe her. I hope I get to meet her one day. She is a very lucky woman," she says, grinning.

"I think I'm the lucky one."

That's the most basic truth he knows right now. Faye can be abrasive and short-tempered, regal and imperial, hungry and sweet and wilder than he might have imagined.

They're a good match, but he's definitely the lucky one and he doesn't think he needs to argue that with anybody, anywhere, any time.

Elaine nods. "I'm very glad you are so happy. It does me good to see that."

She's glad every day that she came here, that she had the opportunity to come back after her journey to the other side, and that she'd had such a pleasant existence since.

Even if it ended tomorrow, she'd know that it was worth everything.

While he's very glad it makes her happy, it makes him twice as happy: this is something he can hold right there in his heart, keep for himself. Or share with a small select group: it's been a long time since he had a relationship to boast about.

It feels so nice.

It also reminds him of his purpose in being down here: he's on a little mission to gather supplies so he can stock his room for his Queen. "I'll introduce you to her next time we're all around at the same time."

"I will look forward to that. In the meantime, is there anything I can help you with? I am a waitress, after all."

She sometimes forgets to be expedient, when she is talking to friends. But then, the wait time for things here is so small as to be nearly non-existent.

"Oh. No, no, I'm good." He's spent enough time in bars to know how to navigate them and how to get what he wants and needs without putting anyone out... or even making them do their job. "I'm just going to grab a couple glasses and a bottle of wine for later."

If that's a giveaway to things he might do, he doesn't care. Sybaritic through and through, he dwells in and lives for moments of luxury like some big cat, at least now that he can afford to do so. Fate hasn't always been quite as kind to him as she's being now, and he's learning to take advantage of the situation.

He's learning it well, and it seems to be going pretty swimmingly, so there are no complaints from him. It reminds him of long lazy weekend days in the years before he went to Titan... when he had nothing but time stretching out for all eternity, it seemed, and people to share with who enjoyed the luxurious mornings as much as he did.

"But I don't want to keep you from work. I just wanted to say hi, because it's been so long."

Elaine gets that hint, mainly because she's done that several times before herself. Sharing a bottle of wine between two people is a lovely way to spend an evening.

"I appreciate that, Gren. I am not always in the bar often enough to see old friends. I hope you enjoy your evening."

She's so glad to see him relaxed and happy with himself and his new lady love.

"Actually, I do have one burning question for you before I go."

There's a hint of mischief in his eyes now: once a flirt always a flirt. He just can't help it. The skill has been honed over years and years as a working musician.

Leaning forward, he whispers into Elaine's ear.

"Red wine or white?"

He's grinning as he straightens up. "What's your best suggestion?"

Elaine giggles and her eyes are merry when she answers him.

"Why red, of course. Red for passion. All lovers know that."

She grins back at him. He is such a flirt.

"Just checking." His smile widens: lovers.

He's so lucky.

"Have a perfect evening, and good luck with Buster. Hopefully he'll be all done eating shoes by the time you get back home after work." The wave he gives her is small, two-fingered, but heartfelt. As he moves over to the bar to collect his wine, it might almost look like he's blushing.

He isn't, but there's no small amount of happy anticipation written on his face for anyone to see.