milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Sam Axe has worn a lot of hats, over his life. Navy SEAL, spy, FBI, the lot.

Today, he wears the expression of a man who feels like he's died and gone to heaven.

Of course, he actually is thinking that literally, right now. Might as well enjoy it, he thinks.

He walks over to the bar (and that's the part that really makes him think it's actually heaven) and laughs.

"Come on! Saint John or Archangel Gabriel or whoever... what's it take to get a beer around here?"

When it appears in front of him, he grins. "Now that's what I call service," he says.

[tiny tag: Sam Axe]

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"I like Miami," Sam says. "The women, sun, the women. It's a nice gig."

"It is. And when Michael shows up in a few weeks, it'll get even better."

She takes a long pull off her beer and sets it down with a thunk.

"So, Milliways got you too, huh?"

Sam filed that knowledge away. If there was supposed to be some rule against knowing the future, no one ever told Sam Axe. "Yeah, I guess it did. This is my first time. It's got me feeling all... virgin on prom night."

She swivels around on her barstool, leaning her elbows on the bar, pointing with the mouth of the bottle.

"Important things first: You can run a tab with Bar, but please treat her nicely. She can get you anything in the known universe that's not drugs or a weapon to hurt someone. You can get weapons to practice with, which leads to..."

She points to the lakeside door.

"Firing range out back, demolitions range out back of that. Jogging path around the lake, watch out for the demon rabbits. Oh and the giant squid. Also, don't go out after dark on full moon. They have real werewolves here, I shit you not."

"Hold up," Sam says. "Demon rabbits?"

"Oh yes. Some of them breathe fire, some are poisonous, I can't tell you which is which, just give them a wide berth and you'll be fine."

"Think I'll stick to the bar," Sam says. "Never was much of a jogger."

"Probably a good idea. Bastards have ruined two good pairs of my trainers."

She gives him a sidelong glance, smiling that conspiratorial grin of hers.

"I really shouldn't say anything. Really."

"Shouldn't," Sam says. "But if you don't, I'm going to start thinking you're a pod person."

"Michael really needs to sort this thing out for himself. But he needs us. You and I, both. Madeline needs us. Madeline? Mike's mom? You'll meet her soon enough."

"Whatever you do, don't play poker with that woman for money. She will clean you out."

"Right," Sam says. "Woman raises Mikey, no way I'm thinking she's a pushover."

"Also, when you meet a woman named Veronica? Treat her right. You'll kick yourself for the rest of your life if you don't. I don't understand it, but Oh-Nine Sam seems to think rather highly of her."

"Right," Sam says. "You don't happen to know who won any Super Bowls, do you?"

"Is that baseball?"

"Figures," Sam says. "No, it's not."

"Oh. Sorry?"

Sam just shakes his head. "I'm gonna need another beer," he decides.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then." She considers hugging him again and thinks better of it.

"If you need me for anything, just leave a note with the bar. Oh and whatever you do, don't order an Atlantean unless you know where you're sleeping. And watch out for the two British guys, one little, one big. They're," she shudders, "serial killer creepy."

"Got it," Sam says. "Was, uhhh, nice seeing you, Fi."

"It was nice seeing you too, Sam. Really. Don't be a stranger."

She gives him an oddly affectionate look. Almost wistful. And then she turns and disappears into the crowd.

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