milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[oom: Hearts and Minds and Urchins and Feet.]

Hurley step into the bar, a bit sweaty and his shorts are damp from the water.

"Oh. This figures," he says. "How come you keep disappearing on me, bar? That's so not cool."

It's not crazy to talk to the bar. It can hear him. D'uh.

He goes and sits down in a booth.

"Hey, buddy," he greets a waitrat. "Get me a Oreo milkshake, would ya?"

[ooc: Open until the post slides off the front page, yo.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Why, you gonna do a trick or somethin'?"

That's not a no.

"I'm not magic. I'm just... a dude," Hurley says.

A cursed dude, but still.

"In Milliways no one is just a dude."

"I am too," Hurley said. "I mean, okay, I'm stuck on an island, but that doesn't mean there's anything, like, wrong with me."

"What with bein' stuck on islands bein' all normal and stuff."

Oh the deadpan, how it pans deadly.
He gestures to the front door.

"I'm assumin' you mean out there, an' not in here."

"Yeah," Hurley said. "Out there. ...you probably don't want to hear about it, though. Unless you do. Which is cool, too. I just... don't want to bore you or somethin'."

"Only thing I got goin' on is a reminder that I ain't at home to watch the Yanks play the Braves in the post-season."

Says Raph as he folds up his newspaper.

"My plane kinda... crashed," Hurley explains.

"Kinda crashed?"

There's either crashed, or not crashed.

"It broke into pieces," Hurley said. "Before it even, like, hit the ground and stuff."

"Might wanna work on your landings."

"Dude," Hurley said. "People died and stuff. That's not cool."

"Then you really oughta work on your landin's."

People die, the fact that it sucks doesn't seem to keep it from happening. And besides...Hurley never said he wasn't the pilot.

"Do I look like a pilot?" Hurley says. "I was just on the plane."

Raph gives Hurley a once over.

"Stranger things have happened."

Trust him, he knows.

Hurley frowns.

"I'm just a guy," he says. "Though I might be cursed."

That gets Hurley an eyebrow raise.

"Who'd you piss off?"

"I... won the lottery," Hurley says. "But the numbers are... evil."

His head cocks to one side.

"How so?"

"Dude. After I won the lotto, bad things started to happen. My Grandpa Tito had a heart attack. My brother's wife left him, my best friend ran off with my girlfriend, I bought a chicken restaurant and it got hit by a meteor... or an asteroid. Whatever they are," Hurley says.

"You sure you didn't piss no one off? Like a god or a timelord or somethin'?"

"I dunno," Hurley says. "I might have. But if I did, it'd be nice if they, like... told me."

"Be real damn nice if they worked that way, wouldn't it? They don't, 'course, but it'd be real damn nice."

"Yeah, I guess so," Hurley says. "But yeah. Bad mojo. And stuff."

"So the plane you were on crashed, that just another in the long line?"