milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[ oom: this cowboy keeps his word ]

He didn't expect to see the bar just yet.

Doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the happenstance.

Ben Wade heads toward the counter to order a whiskey. He's in a damn good mood.

[ tiny tag: the russian astronaut ]

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Ben takes the proffered hand and gives it a firm shake.

"Ben Wade."

He lifts his second glass and shakes his head.

"Sure don't mind, son — Whyren's Reserve. Damn fine whiskey; highly recommended by a feller named Han Solo here."

"'ad it from some other folks 'ere but dinna think I know anyone o'that name. Where'bouts are ye from?"

"Some kinda pilot from the future. Crazy as hell."

A flash of a grin before he downs the whiskey.

"Arizona, 1865."

A beat.

"Southwest United States," he adds, just in case. "'Bout yourself?"

"Arizona, aye, know it, tis near New Mexico, I've a good friend 'ere named Doc Scurlock, 'e's from round that time. Nottingham, England, reign o'Richard the Lion'eart. Oh aye, pilots are almost 'alf as bad as outlaws."

"Met Doc last time I was here," he nods. "Ain't a bad shot."

He quirks a brow.

"Nottin'ham?"

His lips twitch at the outlaw remark, but he doesn't comment.

"Nay, 'e's na, taught me 'ow to shoot a gun. Aye, Nottingham, Sherwood Forest surrounds it."

Will just grins and drinks some more ale.

Nottingham.

Sherwood Forest.

Outlaws.

"You say 'Robin Hood,' I'm gonna need another drink."

A beat.

"And hafta get your next one."

"Seein' as I'm 'is squire, I'll buy the next round."

He taps on Bar and two whiskeys appear.

Ben grins.

"This place."

A chortle, then he lifts his glass and inclines his head toward Will.

"Oh aye, tis naught like Milliways."

"Reckon not."

Ben swallows the whiskey and places the empty glass on the counter, requesting another round on his tab.

"So, now, how's the life of a squire treatin' you?"

"Life's been good an quiet in Nottingham, least for a time."

A half-smile tugs at Ben's lips.

"Don't care much for quiet, myself."

"Seen fair bit o'trouble lately, glad for the moments o'peace."

'I ain't wanted in Mexico.'

"Well, that's true enough. Take the rest when you can get it."

A nod as he reaches for his fresh whiskey and slides the extra glass in front of Will.

"Seein' trouble from lawmen back home?"

Will takes a the shot and rubs his wrist,

"Always trouble from the Sheriff just a matter o''ow much. Nay, 'ealin' from some 'urts 'ere, all alive just keep findin' 'urts is all."

"Don't care too much for sheriffs, either."

His eyes flick to Will's wrist for a half-second.

Curiously, "Kinda trouble you run into here?"

"Demon possession an bein' sent to die in a battle na me own."

"Heard tell there can be trouble in this place, but I didn't know it could be that kind."

"Snuck up on us an was rather 'orrible but e'eryone is alive."

"Get a preacher to help with an exorcism?"

Will runs his hand through his hair,

"Nay, na 'xactly, wasna there but one demon pulled the others out."

Quietly, "Damn, son."

A gentle tap on the bartop, and two more whiskeys appear.

"Think you've earned this."

That gets a nod from Will since he doesn't mind being called son though he's seen enough to be an equal, the Ba is complicated. First he takes a drink before answering and rolls up his sleeve to show Dan the manacle scars on his wrist,

"Faced the gallows an three days in the Sheriff's dungeon, what made this worse was 'appenin' to me Kate an couldna do aught to aid 'er. Least down there felt e'ery blow."

they're gonna hang me in the mornin'
before the night is done
they're gonna hang me in the mornin'
i'll never see the sun

Ben's eyes flick from Will's wrist to his face.

"She get hurt, too?"