milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

edward cullen

(no subject)

You know what proves to be problematic?

An eye patch on a cyclopean mutant.

CRASH!

"HALP!"

[TAG CERTIFIED 100% SCURVY FREE: Turanga Leela, Wilbur Whateley, Teddy Altman]

OOC: OPEN FOR TAGS FOREVERRRRRR ZOMG TLAPD YAY!

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One large eye peers at him from under the lifted patch.

"Bar be t' blame for this, then? Shoulda figured."

As long as she can drink like a pirate, too, she'll be fine.

Well. That's different.

Edward's expression doesn't shift in the slightest even as he steps back a step rather gracefully, making it obvious the move is only to give her personal space back now that she is standing.

"Bar does this often?"

"Aye, least nobody's started singin' er dancin' yet, what a bloody mess that was..." she grumbles.

Actually, it was rather fun.

"Be you new t' the bar then, lad?"

One edge of his lips puckered in a hint of smirk at 'lad.'

"More or less, yes. I'm Edward Cullen."

"They call me Leela - Captain Turanga Leela, if y' please."

She offers him her hand to shake.

"'Preciate the help, Edward. Can I interest ye in a drink?"

Edward's hand didn't moved, but he followed up on her side, giving a nod toward the bar, motioning that he would walk with her.

"What do you captain?"

She eyes him.

(No pun intended.)

"Fly a delivery ship fer t' Planet Express delivery company, outta New New York. 'Course, not been much fer work lately."

Edward's glance was more steady now.

"When do you come from?"

He pulled out a stool at the bar offering it to her.

"3004 A.D."

What's this? Manners? Leela is taken aback!

"And yerself?" she asks, taking a seat and ordering a rum for herself.

Edward may be a little old fashioned.

Just wait the arrogance will come at some point when he's not interested in getting the information he's asking!

"2005."

"Aye, the delivery whelp is from 'bout that time. Got 'is ass froze 'n rewoke in my age, haven't been able to shake 'im since."

Insert exasperated sigh here.

"What be yer poison, Edward?"

"Nothing for me. I had my dinner recently."

Which wasn't a lie, if not how she expected it.

"But please don't hold yourself back on my account."

"If ye insist," she shrugs.

Like him not drinking would hold her back. Ha.

"What kind o' trouble ye get yerself into back home, mate?"

Edward's eyebrows arched, expression betraying confusion.

"Livelihood. 'obbies. Education.

"...You do something back where ye're from, I bargain?"

Translation: What do you do, Edward?

"Avoid class," Edward covered, quickly, his expression flitting to cheeky so quickly from confusion it made it seem as though somehow the two were made to flawlessly flow from one to the other.

If Leela had an eyebrow, she would be arching it.

"Oi s'that so? And what're ye not-studyin' t' be?"

If she only knew.

Edge had more degrees than he needed, and two doctorates, and still high school was the necessity.

"I haven't decided. I think I want to avoid boring, tedious, normal jobs." And lives.

Not that he'd ever have or need a job.

"Y' could come work fer the Professor," she snarks with a roll of the eye.

Boring? Maybe. Tedious? Sometimes. But Planet Express was certainly never "normal."

Edward cocked his head, shifting his weight on his feet. Small very human-like movements now and then.

"What does the Professor do?"

"Generally, nearly get us all killed."

She knocks back a hard swallow of liquor.

"'E runs the delivery company, see. But in 'is free time 'e likes to invent strange lil' things would make the hackles on a dog go up."

"It does sound lively."

"It's gotten me into a tough spot a time or two," she agrees.

"But he's family?"

His smile was ironic, and the question wasn't so much a question.

"Oi no, just a crazy old lubber long past 'is due."

Yes, in a way, he's family.

"Grew up in an orphanage. Only met me parents 'bout a year back. Up til then 'twas just me, all by me onesies."