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.]

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"Whut's en Orio milkshake?"

Wilbur grins at the look on Hurley's face. It's a sane response, but in Milliway's it's unusual.

A tentacle slithers out from under the hem of his trenchcoat.

"It's a milkshake," Hurley says. "With, like... Oreos in it."

Wilbur is from 1928. This is not very enlightening to him.

"Whut ur Orios?"

The tentacle gives Hurley a friendly poke.

"Gah!" Hurley says, recoiling from the tentacle.

"They're cookies!"

". . . oh. An' why dew yew put them inter miulkshakes?"

He grins at the tentacle.

It tries to poke Hurley again.

"Dude, stop it!" Hurley says, jumping back.

"Because it's delicious!"

...yes, he was multitasking freaking out and explaining the milkshake.

Yes. Yes he is.

Wilbur laughs. "Ignore et, et's jest like thet."

Another tentacle appears. This one is going to eat Wilbur's cup. It does that.

"Dude, are you... smuggling an octopus?" Hurley rationalizes.

Wilbur bursts out laughing. "Wal, thet's a new 'un.

"Et's a nervous tic o' sorts," he adds with a shrug. "They dew thin's awn thar awn when I'm nawt usin' them."

"Oh dude," Hurley says. "They're... part of you?"

Wilbur nods. "My Father es a cosmic horrur from another dimension, an' my mother was a madwoman.

"I'm rather . . . awdd."

"Wow," Hurley says. "Uhhh... must be weird family reunions."

"Yew could say thet, ayuh." He smiles ruefully. "But I haven't introduced mysalf yet! Wilbur Whateley, et yer service."

"I'm... Hurley," he says. "Uhhh. My parents are... people."

"Ayuh, I guessed thet. People from worlds whar this sort o' thin' es common dun't tend ter freak out es much." His smile turns bitter. "An' the 'uns from whar et's nawt tend ter set the dawgs awn folk like me."

"Uhhh, well, you were just, uhh, asking about Oreos," Hurley says. "I mean, the poking is scary, but I'm not a big... violence guy."

"Ayuh, I know. I'm jest bein' bitter, dun't mind et." He brightens. "Sew, whut's wit the raggety clothes an' whutnawt? Awll damp an' stuff?"

"...I'm stuck on an island," Hurley says. "We're... marooned, I guess."

"Wal, thet's a shame.

"I'm stuck here, but et's really nawt the same. Better food, fer a start. An' nice rooms."

"Yeah," Hurley says. "Sometimes this place kinda... disappears one me, too."

"I suggest yew take advantage wal et's here. Git some rest an' stuff. Set by the fire an' relax."

"That's what I do," Hurley says.

"Good, good." He nods. "I'll leave yew tew thet, then. Et's bin a pleasure."

"Yeah," Hurley says. "You, uhhh, take care."

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