(no subject)

[notamagician]

"What is wrong with you?"

Two men wearing identical business suits walk through the door. The bigger one seems to be raging a little bit at the smaller man.

"Who the hell falls asleep in a box?" Penn demands, shoving Teller slightly. "You trying to screw this up for us?"

Teller shrugs lightly and tries to make his way up to the Bar. It wasn't like he'd completely conked out in there; he still hit his cue.

Penn sulks off to the other end of the bar. "Yeah, you're lucky you woke up, you little rat bastard," he mutters, getting himself a cola beverage.

Fake Tags: Penn, Teller

[ooc: Tag one, or both. Two pups, one mun.]

Comments

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

She's seated somewhere in the middle of the bar, slouched on a stool.

He's so damn loud -- that she lifts her head up, eyes drawn. Watches and purses her lips into a dissatisfied expression. She scrubs a hand over her cheek, rubs the spots on the newsprint where there are smudges, and waits.

"Bar, if he's going to be a jerkface, don't give him anything."

[notamagician]

It would seem as though he's only a jerkface to Teller. When he sees Alba, his expression lightens almost immediately and he wanders over in her direction with his can of cola in his hand.

"It's always nice to see a familiar face around here," he says easily. "Especially one that isn't always trying to sabotage me."

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

". . .I tried a sabotage.

Bar wouldn't listen to me." Beat. "Familiar faces. Even if the time-lines blur. This time, when you aren't yelling at your partner, how are you?"

[notamagician]

"Oh, don't worry about him. He's fine," Penn insists.

He leans against the bar. "I'm better, now that he's out of my face."

It was so clearly the other way round. Even Stevie Wonder could have seen that.

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

Without (much) rancor, she shares what the rest of the class so clearly knows,

"Au contraire, mon ami, you were the one who was being the jerkface. . ."

She rests her head in the crook of her arms, and shrugs one shoulder.

"Sorry to say."

[notamagician]

"You only saw half of the argument," Penn points out. "You didn't hear him yelling at me."

He laughs.

"You ever see Teller get so mad that he starts to yell? Man, it's hilarious."

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

With a tiny smile.

"Hear him yell? No, thank you. I do not need that experience when you are loud and hilarious enough."

[notamagician]

Penn laughs. "It's great. He's got this really thick accent, and I can't understand him, and that just makes me laugh even more, which pisses him off even more. It's like a perpetual motion machine. Except that a perpetual motion machine doesn't exist, but Teller does."

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

She shakes her head at him, "Ouch."

[notamagician]

Penn is not exactly quiet, so it's no strain for Teller to be able to over hear this conversation. He gives Penn a very dirty look before moving somewhere else, far out of earshot.

Penn sees this and just laughs, pretending to throw an invisible baseball at him.

"See what I mean?" he asks. "He totally started it."

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

". . .Careful. He might make you the next one in the box. Or, clean up something wonderfully messy - like the bar's dishes again. Or get you jailed.

It would ruin the suit." She mutters, shading her eyes against the overhead lighting by shuttering her eyes closed.

[notamagician]

"No, he's a lot more subtle than that," Penn says. "And by 'subtle,' I of course mean finding a way to pour ice on me while I'm in the shower."

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

". . .Hm-hm. Put industrial strength adhesive on the toilet seat."

Pause, to consider. Then wincing, "Nevermind. "

[visible_sariel]

There's a girl down Teller's end of the bar - black, mid-twenties, curly hair. Decided lack of yelling at anyone.

She's keeping out of the way of the argument, but once Penn's a short distance off, she can't help a glance up and over. At Teller, not Penn. There's a tiny frown on her face, but it's not the quiet half of the duo she's frowning at.

[doesntsaymuch]

Teller sees the frown, and just sort of shrugs.

This is normal behaviour for them, really. And, in a way, it's a little more safe, since neither of them are throwing knives at the other (which is also perfectly normal behaviour for the two of them).

[visible_sariel]

It's a very, very good thing nobody's chucking knives around. Normal behavior or not. Somebody might take it as a true attempt to do harm, and that'd lead to security getting involved, and... yes, mess.

"Are you alright, though?" Sariel looks as though she's got a fair idea of the answer, given that shrug, but it's still better to ask.

[doesntsaymuch]

Oddly, every time it happens, it goes totally ignored (well, except for the time Penn threw a knife at a Womble).

Teller taps out a string of Morse code on the Bar, ordering himself a chocolate Yoo-hoo, and nods easily.

[visible_sariel]

Who knows what the future holds? ... That's totally not a hint, nopenope.

Aha. Sariel thought so, but still. "Only that didn't sound very pleasant a moment ago," she answers. The code gets a moment's curious turn of the head, but she doesn't ask. "My name is Sariel, by the way."

She doesn't quite expect a verbal answer, not after the way Teller ordered his drink, but there's still courtesy to think of.

[doesntsaymuch]

Teller is ready for any situation, and he produces a business card from absolutely nowhere, which he hands to Sariel with a smile.

[visible_sariel]

Blink. Pardon the look of faint surprise. Sariel accepts the offered card just the same.

"Teller," she tries, a little hesitantly. Her pronunciation of his name is English, but he might notice the odd hint of... something on a syllable here and there elsewhere. "Pleased to meet you, Teller. You're a magician?"

[doesntsaymuch]

He nods. And then pulls an entire deck of playing cards, one at a time, just to drive home the point.

Cheesy and stupid, he knows, but he's actually been barred from performing a lot of his "usual" tricks in the bar.

[visible_sariel]

That gets a smile out of her, small and bright, and it lingers. "You're better at that than I would be if I ever tried, I expect."

No appearing playing cards for her. She just offers a hand instead. Her right one, for the record.

[doesntsaymuch]

He shakes her hand. Nice to meet you, Sariel.

The playing cards? He just leaves those. Someone else who gets paid to clean up around here can get those.

He pulls lightly at her uniform sleeve. Now, what on earth is up with this?

[visible_sariel]

Second blink. Sariel's quick enough on the uptake that she doesn't need him to clarify what he's asking. "I serve in an organization called Starfleet," she explains. "I'm one of the helmsmen aboard my ship."

The name 'Starfleet' should make things rather plain, but one can never be too careful. "Does your world have any type of space travel, Teller?"

[doesntsaymuch]

He thinks about this a bit, and then gives a sort of wishy-washy shrug.

No, people on Earth have not travelled to outer space, but they have made contact.