milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Grace saunters out of Captain Perry's office, already tapping a cigarette from her pack, and tries not to smile. The guys are all looking at her, thinking she's in trouble with their new boss. Quite the opposite. Perry's an old friend from Vice and if Grace loved laughter any less, she'd warn Butch about being all UT in her face, at least for awhile; but he’s been a big boy in a unit full of Sooner fans for years now. It'll be entertaining.

She shoulders open the door to Major Crimes, then the stairwell, and mutters a half-hearted curse. Milliways. A few days without Earl’s making her soft. Whatever, it’s still a bar. Better to smoke with a drink than without one.

When Bar gives her the note, Grace tosses back her head and laughs. She looks at it again; laughs again.

"Sure thing. I could use time to think."

Because pouring drinks in between drinking her own will help her figure out why the motel manager got dead in one of his guest rooms. Obviously. Pushing her hair back, she pulls some not-so-random drink ideas from the proffered book and goes to work on the specials board.

HAPPY HOUR!

Absolut Hell
Holy Water
Jack and coke
and
Shots of Yukon Jack

Dance with the bartender, get a free shot. Bartender's choice.

Smirking, Grace rummages around behind Bar until she finds the sound system remote and cranks the volume to almost too loud. The classic rock already playing suits her fine. Time to shake up this place, she thinks. Time to shake Earl loose.

"Belly up, people. What'll be?"

(tiny tags: Grace Hanadarko, Cal Chandler, Michael, the Pirate King)

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She laughs, tugs him closer for a quick kiss and slides back behind the bar. A nod at the bottle of JD and she asks, "Want somethin' else? Seems we've got everything."

The perfect bar. Why worry about Heaven or Hell when she can just come drink here?

"Just some coffee'd be fine," Cal says.

Someday he might even request coffee at a happy hour and remember to specify decaf. Someday.

A better bartender would ask, but Grace is a cop; unleaded coffee is far removed from her personal reality. Add to that her interest in keeping Cal awake, and she goes straight for the real stuff.

Pouring the coffee, she looks back at him over her shoulder.

"I still say this is crazy. Or maybe I'm crazy. Shit."

She grabs the mug, sloshing some on her hand as she sets it down before him. As hot as it is, she doesn't flinch.

"Think I need a second opinion. Am I crazy, Cal?" she asks, half teasing and half serious, licking the spilled coffee off her thumb.

"Cream and sugar?" Cal asks, then,

"If you're crazy, so am I." He grins at her. "What's your world like? 'Cause if it's normal, I've got some stories from here that could out-crazy you any day. And all of 'em are true."

Of course, if Grace's world has magic or aliens or anything, and she knows about, Cal isn't quite so sure.

"Define normal," Grace snorts. "I work Major Crimes. The crap I see isn't much for normal."

She stops mid-hunt for cream and sugar and just looks at him.

"I stole a damn cow. It has the face of Jesus on its damn side."

Normal hasn't come around much lately.

Cal so has that beat.

"I've met two versions of the Devil here," he answers. "One of them was a woman and the other is one of my best friends."

He tilts his head slightly.

"Why'd you steal a cow?" Because that, in its way, is also pretty weird.

"I decked the guy who bought him," Grace explains, finding it far easier to deal with his question first. "He was a dick. Turns out he was an important dick. I got sidelined 'til I apologized. Asshole grabbed my breast after I did, so I decked him again and stole his cow."

She grins.

"Holy Cow."

And that's about as long as she can stall.

"You're best friends with the devil?" Grace laughs like it's a joke. "Knew I liked you."

Cal grins at her story. He knew he liked Grace, too.

"Yep," he says. "I mean, the whole thing is a big scam on his world, basically the biggest smear campaign in history. He's a good guy." Sam has come to be very important to Cal.

"The devil's a good guy," repeats Grace.

That particular bit of information results in another laugh. And another drink.

Next time Earl tells her she needs to be saved, at least she can say the devil is a good guy.

"You kidding me?"

"From his world, yeah," Cal says. "But that's not always the case, so if you run into a Devil here, you should still be careful."

Then he allows himself a smile. "Yeah, I know how it sounds. Kinda. I forget sometimes, I've been here for a while. After a while, you won't even blink when you hear something like that."

"Figures this place would have a down side," she smirks. Finally finding the cream and sugar, she hands them over and asks, nonchalantly, "Any of the opposing team ever stop by?"

Cal nods.

"Sure." He proceeds to add truly unnerving amounts of cream and sugar to his coffee. Well, of sugar - there isn't enough room for as much cream as he likes. "I've met an angel. Maybe two, I'm not sure. Maybe not. Definitely at least one, though. Plus a couple goddesses, you know, from the ancient, uh -" He pauses to dredge up the word. "Pantheons."

By all appearances, Grace doesn't seem to handle this well. It's not really a surprise, given she still thinks Earl has something to do with her finding the door here -- if not the entire set up. But to hear Cal casually confirm as much just pisses her off.

Grace drops an empty beer bottle near her foot and curses. Turning away from Cal, she throws a rag at the sink, picks up a tray of silverware only to slam it down again and scowls at the floor. "Shit!"

Cal starts at the crash.

"- Grace? You all right?"

She might have dropped the bottle on her foot or something, but Cal remembers her flash of temper from last time, and he's thinking probably not.

"Yeah," she answers at last, flashing a grin his way. "Fingers slipped."

She calmly taps some glass off her boot and walks back over.

"Angels in a bar. Suppose that means I'll have to start going to confession."

Ha.

Cal accepts the explanation, but watches her over his coffee mug.

"Don't see why," he says. "What goes on in Milliways doesn't have to mean anything for your world. They're all different, I think, with their own afterlives and what-have-you."

It's the only explanation he can come up with for there being not only multiple versions of the Devil, but gods and goddesses from different pantheons.

Last time she'd grudgingly accepted the end of the universe. This time it seems she can't escape from the idea of different worlds and times, which makes this all bigger somehow.

Bigger than heaven and hell, or the arrival of Earl.

Big enough that she starts shelving the crazy argument. Too many cops make the evidence fit their theories. It's easier that way, but easy isn't right.

"Okay," she says, after some thinking. "I want to meet your Devil."

Whoops.

". . . I'll have to run that by him," Cal says. "He - doesn't like people knowing who he is unless he tells them himself."

It's been a point of contention between them in the past. Cal doesn't believe in lying, not anymore.

On the other hand, though, this is at least better than that mess with Bela, who would sooner eat her own hand (or wear polyester) than talk to Sam again after she put two and two together about who he was. Of course, Bela knows for a fact that she's damned to hell, no wiggle room (at least not on her world, but they will find something here to save her, they will), which does make all the difference. For now.

Grace is a loyal friend at heart, so she says "Sure, I'll play it however you need" and doesn't push.

She'll just keep her eyes and ears open in the meantime. He did say there was more than one.

"Any other interesting people I should meet?" she adds with a cheeky grin.

"I'll ask next time I see him." Cal's not sure how thrilled Sam will be about that, but at least it's all upfront.

He sips his coffee, thinking, then grins. "I met the Roman goddess of door hinges," he says. "I swear to - well, her, I guess."

"Door hinges?" she asks, incredulous. Then she grins. "Crap. I'm probably on her shit list, too. You know how many of those things I've broken?"

A lot.

Cal laughs.

"I wouldn't bring that up if you do run into her," he advises. "She takes it very seriously." Of course. Being as it's the reason for her existence and all.

"Duly noted," Grace laughs back. "But I'm throwing a goddamn party if I run into Venus or some other god or goddess of sex."

Her smile is both suggestive and mischievous.

Cal's one encounter with Demeter, unfortunately, did not run in that direction, so he doesn't think to bring her up. His familiarity with Greek mythology is sketchy at best.

"i'll keep an eye out for an invitation," he says, his own smile mirroring Grace's.

"You'll be first on the list," she assures him, leaning over Bar again so her face is close to his. Still smiling, she runs her eyes from his all the way down his torso. "You just let me know if you ever want to make that a private party."

Tonight isn't a night for subtlety.

Then again, Grace doesn't think many nights are.