milliways_bar | (no subject)

(Somewhere Under Milliways: Sunshine's large, lovingly-collected library of gothic vampire lit will likely never be the same refuge of fantasy escapism ever again. She may burn them all when she gets home. If she survives to get home.)

From the kitchens come the sounds of startled, squeaking rats, of a large basket of paradoxes overturning as someone runs unsteadily towards the reassuring light and noise of the bar. The door to the kitchen slams open a moment later, letting through a pale and shaking Rae, clutching her wrenched and bruised right arm to her chest as she runs.

Her head is still reeling, her eyes watering and blurring her vision, the realization of what had just happened - what she had done - and to whom - causing her stomach to rebel violently.

Luckily, the cleaning crew prefer a clean bar and have put trash cans up at strategic locations, for Sunshine doesn't make it to the restroom before being physically ill. She falls jerkily next to it, clutching the trashcan rim with a white-knuckled grip in an effort to steady herself and counteract the tremors she can't seem to stop.

(Warnings in OOM for... well, gothic horror.)

(Tiny tags: A Gothic Winter Tale, Vlad Dracula)

(OOC: Mun has gone to bed. Will return to tag up on threads tomorrow. EP is open for new threads/tags forever and ever, amen. <33333)

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"Damn," she says, though there's more wry amusement there than anything else. She's trying hard. "If you do that, then I won't be able to tell if I won the challenge or not."

He lifts his mug and quirks an eyebrow.

"We got a bet goin' I don't know about?"

"If my baking and myself are so forgettable, I may be offended," she says, sipping her tea.

No she won't be.

"I believe there was a challenge made, last time we met. I said you'd get sick of my baking before I'd get sick of baking for... how did you yourself put it... your 'handsome face.'"

"That's right," he says, his smile widening with recognition.

"I think it's safe to say you and your bakin' are safe and sound."

A quick grin; he's trying to make her smile at this point, and it's probably obvious.

"My handsome face, on the other hand, is probably in dire straights."

She peers at him, with a mild, mock-critical look. "Mm, a bit scruffy, yeah," she judges. "But it's a good look for you."

~~He is sooooo an autumn.~~

Deadpan, "You're too kind."

Another slow sip of coffee.

"How's your bake shop?"

"What? Beards are scratchy." With a don't blame me look. "The coffeehouse is fine. I was just... marking time back home, right now, until the next big thing eventually happens. Didn't know it was going to happen here first."

So whatever happened did happen here.

Ben files away that piece of information.

"I'm sorry it did."

His forehead creases.

"Do you need to talk with Security about anything? I can check back in the office, see if there's somebody around -- "

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Really, no."

"The offer was... kind, though."

Great, she thinks. Now she's even starting to sound like Con. Damn vampires.

"As long as you're sure."

A pause.

"Is there anything I can help take care of?"

"You've helped a lot already," Rae says.

"But not nearly enough."

Rae says, echoing her memory. "You're talking to me. It's keeping me from being paralysed and sick with fear; it's helping me think. That's a lot, from where I'm sitting."

His lips twitch.

"Well, then, I reckon I'll keep talkin'. It ain't like your company's a chore."

"Even knowing I'll not be fit to bake for a while, waiting for my shoulder to heal?"

No more Killer Zebras and cinnamon-rolls-as-big-as-your-head until she can knead the dough and lift the pans.

He pulls his best mock-indignant face.

"You really think I only like you for your confections? M'hurt over here. Bleedin' in my coffee."

"Were I really not in the mood to talk about blood right now, I would say it probably improved the flavor. Coffee's nasty." Sunshine makes a face.

"Try havin' trail coffee, then you'll bless this bar every time you step in," he says with a chortle.

Then, sobering, "You wanna get checked out while you're here, talk to any of the doctors, let 'em take a look at that shoulder?"

"Any coffee. If coffee tasted half as good as it smells, I would consider it, but it doesn't, so I don't."

"I will do that, though. Once I finish my tea, and you finish your coffee."

"As long as you'll do it after," he says, tone light but concern clear in his eyes.

He lifts his mug in a toast of sorts.