milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Jake walks into the bar after a long day at work, still in his slacks, button-down, and NSA badge. His housekey is quickly pocketed once he realizes where he is, exactly. Milliways wasn't what he was expecting, but the relieved smile that appears on his face shows that he's not upset to see its friendly space at all.

Then, there's a nipping at his heels. Jake ignores it the first time, and walks over toward the bar to grab a glass of ice water.

Then it happens again. "Hey, cut that--wait. Where'd you come from?"

The innocent little face that stares back at him as he turns around says nothing, and just gazes up at him with baleful eyes.

(Jake has never had a puppy. Jake is also unable to resist the cute.)

"You have a mommy or a daddy, little guy?" he asks, carefully kneeling down to check the dog's tags and scratch under its chin. It's current on all shots and male, but seems to have lost its nametag, as well as any contact information.

"Well," Jake says, I guess you're with me for now, aren't you?" He trots over to the bar to get water, and the dog follows on its stubby little puppy legs. This one's a keeper, folks.

[Tiny Tags: Jake Foley (and puppy), Chuck Bartowski]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm not really supposed to say."

D:

"Right. So, you know all about me... and I still don't know what corner of the..." Sigh.

"Sorry. I'm not mad; I'm just... confused. I don't know. It was a long day."

..Dammit.

"Yeah, that's really unfair," he agrees. D:

Okay.

Um.

"I sort of work with the NSA and the CIA in,.. intelligence."

"Yeah, I figured." Jake sighs, and tries to make his hair look a little less messy. It doesn't really work. Anyway. "Look, I mean it. You don't have to tell me. You shouldn't tell me. At least, that's what they say."

Possibly now he feels a little guilty, because he doesn't realize that Chuck knows about his nanites.

"Only with scary faces and the implied 'or I'll have to kill you'."

:|

"Yeah, as cliche as it is. I mean, really... I think it's time to get a new catchphrase. That one just doesn't hold as much weight as it used to."

"I don't know," :|, "death still ranks pretty high on my list of things 'not to do today'."

"Well, yeah."

The puppy takes this opportunity to start whining and wiggling uncomfortably.

Nooooo puppy.

Chuck goes D: at it.

WHAT IS WRONG?

"...puppies have small bladders, right?"

That wiggling is getting more insistent.

Ahahaha yes. He sort of figured that.

"Outside, right."

Jake scoops the puppy up before any damage can be done, and runs him outside, plopping the little dog down on the grass so he can relieve himself.

"Good boy!" Jake encourages, feeling a little silly.

Chuck follows in a bit with a pooper-scooper.

Er.

Just in case.

"Thanks," Jake says, turning away from the puppy to see him.

The puppy, meanwhile, yips and looks very proud of itself.

Slightly sheepish shrug.

"I figured we didn't know what the bar's policy was, and better to not get on her bad side."

>>

"Probably a good idea," Jake agrees. "Though she doesn't quite seem like the type to just randomly get angry."

"Probably not," he says. "But apparently she can Bind people, so I don't want to take chances."

"Really? What exactly does 'bind' mean?"

"When your door disappears or won't open, I think."

"She does that?" he asks, grabbing the scooper and cleaning up.

"Apparently."

"That's weird. I mean, I know time stops when you're here, but why would she want to keep someone here?"

Wheee pooper-scoopers. :/

"Maybe she likes to see their bright, smiling faces?"

"Maybe! I mean, if I were a bar in space, I wouldn't want to be lonely."

"That... would actually explain it. And why she keeps bringing back certain people."