Happy Hour!

[john_not_ronald]

It hasn't been particularly long since John found himself in Milliways last. Only a month or so, but much has happened, and his head is still rather buzzing with it. Wendigo and Shadow-Born, and Jack losing his shadow, and seeing a boy-king claim his heritage, and Jack's fall and redemption.

And coming back to Staffordshire just in time for Edith to tell him that she's expecting (though that's a happiness he'll keep to himself for the time being).

He's a bit surprised to find himself here, really. He'd almost thought that Milliways must be connected to the Archipelago somehow and that he wouldn't find it again until he returned there, and he's pleased to discover that's not the case.

So when he steps up to the bar to order himself a drink and is given a napkin requesting a favor instead, he smiles and asks if there are any instructions, gets pointed in the direction of the Book, and cheerfully takes his place behind the bar, rummaging through said book for a moment before posting the evening's specials.


Specials:

Dragon's Blood

Dragon's Breath

The Army John



After a quick trip to the kitchen, he hastily adds:

Free slice of blueberry pie in exchange for a story about something (or someone) you love


He's rather happy to be home for a while.



[ooc: Closed to new tags, please. Current threads will be moving to slowtime/fade soonish. :)]

Comments

[gorgonfondness]

The mun can't resist coming to Happy Hour due to out of character reasons involving Dragon's Breath.

Mia can't resist because it'll be the easiest blueberry pie she ever got.

"I have enough stories to earn a million pies, I'm sure, but let me see what I can narrow down for tonight," she says as she sits down. "Well, there is the first time I saw the rain. My husband had woken up from a nightmare and I suggested to him that we walk in the garden and look for fairies to take his mind off of things. I sang to him in my home's old language under the light of the Blue Star. And then, as we were sitting by the stone pool and the flowers, it started to rain. My city had never seen natural rain before that night, so we stayed out there in it, dancing in our nightclothes. It was one of the most beautiful nights of my life."

[john_not_ronald]

John smiles as he listens to her story, and happily dishes up a slice of pie, sliding it across the bar to her with a fork.

"That is a beautiful story, Miss, and well worth the price of a pie."

[gorgonfondness]

"Thank you very much," she says, taking the fork and eating a bite or two of pie before asking, "Say, are any of your specials non-alcoholic? If not, I'd like a glass of milk to go with this, please."

[john_not_ronald]

"They aren't, but I'm sure I can rustle up a glass of milk from somewhere."

He finds a bottle of milk in the refrigerator and pours a generous measure into a glass for her.

[gorgonfondness]

"Oh thank you, that's perfect."

She takes a gulp of milk as well.

"I'm sorry if I seem a little rude, but I feel downright ravenous. Please excuse that, Mister...?"

[john_not_ronald]

John smiles and waves away her apology. "Tolkien," he says. "John Tolkien. And you are?"

[gorgonfondness]

"Mia Malfoy-Ausa."

She pauses to take another bite of pie.

"Plus one. Otherwise I would have been happy to indulge."

[takiena_called]

Finn is sitting at the Bar, elbows resting on its surface, squinting at the sign.

"They...don't make that with real dragon blood, do they?"

[OOC: this thread might have to be short, as I am not going to be here friday afternoon-sunday afternoon, unless eventual slowtime is ok?]

[john_not_ronald]

"They do not," John assures him with a smile. "Though I dare say you're too young for it either way."


[ooc: Slowtime is just fine. :)]

[takiena_called]

"Probably," Finn agrees, amiably. "Um, do you know how to make milkshakes?"

He's a little distracted, slowly making his way through the rest of the sign (he's a slow reader). It's longer than usual!

[john_not_ronald]

John thinks for a moment. "I...I don't believe I do, sorry." It's still a rather specialized skill in his time. "I can do just regular milk, if you like."

[takiena_called]

"It's okay," he looks back to John, smiling at him. "Milk goes better with pie, anyways. Um, I have to think of a story real quick, though--I'm bad at telling them."

[john_not_ronald]

"Take as much time as you need," John offers, going to the refrigerator to pull out the milk and pour a glass.

[a1enzo]

[[OOC: I'm an East Coaster and getting a bit tired, but I wanted to hold a place, if that's okay!]]


Oooh. Pie.

"Do you have any digital pie? Otherwise I'll have to take it upstairs and convert it."

Not that he's unwilling to do that if necessary. 'Cause, pie.

[john_not_ronald]

[ooc: That's just fine. :)]

"I...er...I don't think..." He frowns in confusion. "Digital?"

[a1enzo]

Sigh. Sounds like he doesn't even know the word in the first place.

"Short version, I'm not made of matter so I can't eat it. It's gotta be made of electricity."

[john_not_ronald]

He doesn't at all.

"You eat...electricity?"

He's still getting used to the strangeness in Milliways. It's a different sort than he's used to.

[a1enzo]

"I'm made of electricity. Electrical patterns, really. My whole world is."

[john_not_ronald]

He frowns again. "I'm not sure I understand."

Languages are his field, not science, and he's not terribly fond of technology.

[bigblacknose.livejournal.com]

A beagle wearing a flight helmet of a vintage with which John may be familiar takes note of the menu and orders an Army John. Without actually speaking, somehow.

A story of love, he wonders? For a slice of blueberry pie, that could probably be managed...

[john_not_ronald]

John boggles.

And laughs.

And...fixes the dog his drink.

"There you are. Anything for a fellow serviceman."

There are still very few Americans fighting in John's time, but he's familiar enough with the uniform.

[bigblacknose.livejournal.com]

American yes, but he actually signed on with the Royal Naval Air Service before his country got around to formally entering the war.

Major Snoopy D. Hill, early spring of 1917, based out of some little French village on the Western Front whose name he can never get straight, pleased to meet you.

[john_not_ronald]

"Lieutenant John Tolkien," he answers, still not sure how this communication thing is working. "Late spring of 1917, currently in Staffordshire on medical leave. Pleased to meet you as well, sir."

[bigblacknose.livejournal.com]

The Bar appears to be conveying a deep understanding of canine body language and barks, without actually bothering to make it sound like English. Or something like that, anyway.

Love, now, he ponders... there's lots of things to love in the world. Dancing in the springtime, ice skating on a pond in the winter, suppertime any old time of year... drinking root beer and playing billiards with good friends...

But under these circumstances, it's the old girl he flies that's something to love. A Sopwith Camel F.1, the most nimble and maneuverable bird in the skies (at least if you don't have a pressing need to turn left, they've never quite engineered that little quirk out). She's saved his hide many a time on his personal quest to bring down van Richthofen, and always brought him home no matter the abuse the Flying Circus or his own mistakes have heaped upon her.

...Just before he came here, in fact, a stray bullet bounced off the machine gun and knocked it out of synchronization, leading him to shoot off his own propeller at a thousand feet up. And yet here he is alive to tell the tale, and the ground crew swears they can have her back in service in a day or two.

Now that's something to love. A drink to the Camel, may she live to honorable retirement in an air show!

[john_not_ronald]

"Something worth drinking to, indeed," John says, and pulls himself a pint of ale so that he may toast the long life of the beagle's flying machine.

"And well worth a slice of pie, I'd say." He cuts a generous slice and slides it across the bar.