milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It is not the day after Thanksgiving in Twin Peaks; if it was, Harry would be watching football.

It's just an ordinary day in November, and Harry Truman is back in the bar after work, enjoying a cup of coffee and idly half-reading the newspaper. He has some chores to get to around the house, but he also has some time to relax.

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It's well before Thanksgiving for Joan, but it's only mere hours after her conversation (http://notaphony.livejournal.com/2674.html) with Roger that the door to Milliways appears for her again.

She doesn't even hesitate before making a beeline for the bar and ordering something to calm her nerves.

Bar obliges in the form of scotch - a true remedy for Joan's time, at least - and she takes a small sip, letting the warmth settle inside before it begins to travel outward.

Jim's also having coffee, but has a datapad (newspapers being a relic of the past). He nods a hello.

Harry moves quietly up beside her. "Hey. You all right?"

Harry nods back. "Evening."

"Harry."

Relief is evident in her tone as well as in her expression.

"It's just - it's been a long day."

"I guess 'Happy Thanksgiving' is still in order?" Black Friday is gladly unknown in Jim's day.

"Not for me," he says. "Is it that time already here?"

He puts an arm around her. "Anything I can help with?"

"It was yesterday. Here and for me." Jim' never really thought much about how time meshes somehow. "I guess it's not universal."

"Huh," he says. "That's funny. No, we're not there yet."

"I think it doesn't line up for everyone. But then there isn't any reason it should one way or the other. Time here is arbitrary, after all. It's when the Bar's creators say it is."

She leans against him, one arm sliding up under his to rest her hand between his shoulderblades.

"There was someone I had to let down, earlier. He didn't react very well."

"How do people even know the date in here?" He's never seen a calendar.

"Oh."

"Are you all right? He didn't... hurt you or anything?"

"No, nothing like that," she promises.

"Harry, I - he was someone I was seeing, before you and I - and, well, when I realized what I was starting to feel for you, I couldn't in good conscience allow what he and I were doing to continue. And besides all that, I knew it wasn't going to last, regardless of what happened."

A pause, and she reaches with her other hand for the small glass tumbler.

"He's a married man."

Oh.

So much for a simpler time.

"And he got... angry with you."

"There are often decorations for some dates. Christmas for one. Halloween. Mardi Gras.

"And there are...things. You know it's Halloween when the Bar alters your clothes." Or your face. Which shouldn't be possible.

"I guess you can extrapolate from that. Or the seasons outside. Are you new here?"

"Not angry."

She's never once seen Roger Sterling angry - even with her. Mildly frustrated, perhaps.

"He was just..."

She trails off, shaking her head.

"It doesn't matter. Not anymore. Not here."

Harry feels a deep, ignoble urge to punch the guy in the nose. He pushes it away. He gives her a squeeze. "You sure? We can talk about it if you want."

"Not really," he says. "But I haven't celebrated many holidays."

"It dressed me up like a hockey player once."

He's not sure that that was Halloween, though.

She squeezes right back.

"It's better this way," she murmurs. To move on without much of a look back.

"I'm glad you're here. How are you?"

"I was once made to look like a noted figure from my past." Pause. "Possibly your future, since I'm from the 23rd century."

"I'm okay," he says. "Just taking a little time before I get to the woodpile at home."

"Building another fire tonight?"

She lightly scratches his back and then offers another smile to reassure him.

He returns the smile. "Probably not," he says. "Just laying in a supply."

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