milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

The door opens, and a woman with long dark hair and a short black dress steps in.

Well, really, that's technically only partly true. But it's probably close enough to accurate. Workable, at any rate.

She stops and looks around. This doesn't feel like any bar she's ever been in before, and, darling, she has been in a lot of bars. Desperate people do like to drink, and a week in a bar here or there, that's like picking ripe fruit off low-hanging branches.

Well, well, well. Isn't this . . . interesting?

[OOC: If you're the sort who's good at recognizing demons, feel free. If you're not, though, chances are she's just going to come off as young human woman. Questions, etc., ping elsinorequeen.]

[tiny tag: the crossroads demon, cerberus]

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There is a girl nearby with long dark hair. Said girl is also wearing black, but it is not a dress.

A tank top and track pants are her preferred attire. And she tilts her head, nostrils flaring, as the other woman steps through the door.

Eventually she approaches.

"Hello."

Beat.

"You have not been here before."

X would have smelled her.

Oh, yes. Very interesting.

"No, I'm pretty sure I haven't.

"I'm guessing, though, that you know a thing or two about this place."

"I have been coming here since I was small."

It's kind of like her credentials.

"This is Milliways."

Beat.

"It is the end of the universe."

The woman turns to look around and catches sight of the Window.

"So it is.

"Always knew it would end in fire."

A lot of things end in fire.

Though the fire itself goes on . . . and on . . . on.

X tilts her head, studying the other woman.

She does not go in for poetry.

"Oh. You have seen it?"

Beat.

"Some people do."

"Oh, I've seen a lot of things," says the woman.

"I get around."

X considers this.

"You have been to other worlds before?"

It makes sense--well.

It makes her non-reaction to Milliways make sense.

"Something like that," she says.

Other worlds, other planes. Earth. Hell.

Potayto, potahto.

"Oh," X says.

"That is useful. Here."

"Really?"

She looks over at the Window, and then back to the other woman.

"Hmmmmm. Yes, I suspect it would."

A pause and then a carefully self-depreciating smile.

"Where are my manners? You can call me Verity."

X's nostrils flare again, just slightly.

Sulfur is not very pleasant, especially to someone with heightened senses.

"Okay."

Beat.

"I am X-23."

This pause is not quite as long.

"You can call me Laura."

"Laura," she says. "It's very nice to meet you."

Though the other name is noted, too.

It's always good to know who -- or what -- you're dealing with.

"Okay," X says.

She is not sure what else to say to that.

And then--

"You are thirsty?"

Beat.

"The first drink is free."

Isn't Laura just terribly sweet and welcoming?

"That would be very nice.

"Is there anything you'd recommend?"

"I like milk," X offers.

"And root beer floats."

Then she falls silent

"Some people like alcohol, too. Even if it impairs their efficacy."

Root beer floats? Milk?

How . . . cloyingly sweet and digustingly wholesome.

(Alcohol she likes. Especially when other people drink it. It rather increases her efficacy.)

"I haven't had a root beer float in . . . well I don't think I've ever actually had one. I should rememdy that."

If she must.

X shrugs, one-shouldered and quick.

Disgustingly wholesome is a good description for her.

Um.

"You do not have to."

Beat.

While things are being awkward, X will signal a waitrat.

It arrives promptly, chittering at X as it approaches.

"I know," she says.

"But now I'm curious."

About a great many things.

"Okay," X says.

And then she orders two root beer floats.

The waitrat scurries away.

"You do not have any questions?"

There's a badge on X's belt, previously obscured by the fall of her tank top. It says she's on Security.

And that badge does not go unnoticed.

"Laura" certainly doesn't look like the kind of bar security Verity is used to encountering.

"Oh, I wouldn't even begin to know where to start."

She smiles.

"Is there anything you think I should know?"

X considers this. Carefully.

"There are rules."

Beat.

"You are not allowed to have sex downstairs. Or be naked."

Beat.

"You are not allowed to fight inside, or hurt people. And you are not allowed to bring in outside business."

Which is to say 'no grudges'.

. . . so what, exactly, does that leave to do?

"I'll keep all that in mind. Thank you."

"Sex upstairs is okay. There are rooms."

Beat.

"And a brothel."

X is helpful.

"And sometimes people cannot leave. The door does not open."

"I probably shouldn't say this, after all we have juts met, and it's a bit . . . well, forward. Or presumptious, might be a better word. But, Laura, you do seem just a little preoccupied with sex."

X tilts her head, studying Verity.

"Some people think it is important."

Beat.

"It does not make sense."