milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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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"The bar at the end of the universe."

Well, that sounds promising.

"And is that just one hell of a creative marketing slogan or . . . "

She trails off, inviting him to explain further.

If he likes.

"Hardly, and that's not a special effect outside either," He gestured to the Observation Window. Sometimes a picture with exploding stars just sums it up better than words. And Nathan was better at giving speeches not poetry.

The woman turns and looks at the window.

And oh my but that picture is worth any number of thousands of words.

"How . . . lovely."

(Honestly? It's a bit heavy-handed, for her taste. She's more . . . surgical. Or . . . shall we say artistic? She'd rather take a scaple or a chisel to the world that a sledgehammer or a nuclear bomb. But it's impossible to deny that it is breath-taking.)

Nathan followed her gaze, but he could never dwell on it long. Reminded him too much of the explosion. And well, he's never had good luck with it came to fire.

"Maybe to you. I'd call it something else."

"Oh? What would you call it?" she asks, turning her attention back from window to him.

"Inevitable. Depressing. For starters," He shrugged, and placed his hands in his pockets.

He then withdrew his right hand, "Enough about that though, rather meet the newest arrival here. I'm Nathan Petrelli, and you are...?" Another charming grin tossed to her, completely with a gleaming grin.

The stories she's a part of end in fire, inevitably, so she wouldn't argue that point.

"Verity," she says, with a quick and ready smile.

"My parents had this thing about Truth."

"It's beautiful, unique. It suits you." His voice, usually a undertone of low almost gravelly in texture held a purring quality to it as he spoke now.

In that she appreciates the irony, oh, yes, it suits her very, very well.

(The Truths she came to value were not the ones her sanctimonious parents had in mind. And, anyway, demons lie.)

"Thank you," she says.

"So what do you do, Nathan?"

"Uh well, I'm sort of taking some time off right now." Dead, and a Congressman who stepped down. There was no way for it to look good.

Oh, if she had a nickle for every time she'd heard something like that.

"On a break?"

Please don't let him say that he's trying to find himself.

"Something like that. Personal business," Nathan agreed.

Not exactly that at least?

"Well, I hope everything works out for you," she says, with a smile.

All eye-rolling will occur mentally.

"Thanks. Beyond the point now, but thanks anyway."

"And what is that?"

Nathan shrugged, and glanced to the wall where the door normally is. He was still focused on it as he quietly replied.

"Let's just say that not everybody that comes here is living."

She looks . . . intrigued.

"You're dead?"

He nodded, and waved his hands in a vague 'what can you do?'

"Suddenly found myself with a lot of free time."

She considers this.

Or makes a show of considering this.

"You're a lucky man, then."

He shook his head, "More like a bored man." At least when he was Bound and alive, going to other worlds for any length of time was an option. Now? It was weekend pass unless he didn't mind getting really transparent.

"Never caught where you're from. Or the when."

Bored beats the hell out of what happens to the dead men Verity tends to encounter.

"Pretty sure that's because I didn't say," she says, with a charming smile.

She shrugs.

"I get around."

It does, and he doesn't know how good he's got it right now.

In the meantime, Nathan smiled back, and wondered, "Military brat, right? Dad's a career man?" The only reason they stayed in New York was his dad was out of the service by then.

"Mostly I travel for business," she says, not really answering the question about her father's career.

"Occasionally pleasure."

Actually, most often, it's both.

She enjoys her work.

"Oh? And what do you do then?"

"I make certain . . . acquistions, for my employer. Buying, trading.

"Wheeling and dealing, you know how it goes."