milliways_bar | (no subject)

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A cowboy walks into a bar.

Only when said cowboy orders his usual whiskey, he gets a little something extra.

(Or, you know, a lot something extra.)

Bewildered beyond measure (and now HATLESS, WHUT) Ben's on a stool.

-- playing with a spyglass.

[ tiny tag: harvey dent ]

[ ooc: intermittent and sudden slowtimes guaranteed thanks to a design project, but guys. guys. i couldn't resist. i will tag like a tagging thing as i'm able, i assure y'all! ]

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"Its an honorable outfit though."

"Thank you."

Ben lifts his glass; he'll drink to that.

(Mostly because he has no other choice.)

"You're welcome. Now tell me your tale, fine Ben Wade."

It's possible that Ben's nodding to the music now, just a little.

"Walked over to Miss Bar for a drink, and this happened. I'm more of the cowboy sort."

Soon he'll be dancing and all will be right with the world,

"Cowboy from the Wild West of America?"

"That's the one," he nods.

"'Bout you? Bet you've got pirate stories, don'tcha?"

"Oh yes, for after all its a glorious thing to be a Pirate King."

Now he's just flat out singing.

"You, uh, sing a lot?"

The Pirate King stops and looks curiously at Ben,

"Doesn't everyone?"

Ben stops nodding, but his foot is still moving.

" -- sometimes?"

If he keeps drinking, it's a sure bet he'll break into a (lesser-known) ditty called, "They're Gonna Hang Me In the Mornin'."

"Charming, then we shall have to sing together."

Then he's off into a round of A Glorious Thing, Bar provides more rum, she approves of singing.

Ben downs three shots of rum in quick succession.

And then he's up.

And dancing (much to his own shock and awe).

It looks like a jig.

If you squint.

The Pirate King applauds and joins him though his dancing is a lot better.

Ben's eyebrows rise along with his spirits.

The Pirate King's pretty damn good.

This calls for more rum.

And more jigs.

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