milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Jameson Rook walks in to the bar. He rolls his shoulders something feels off. He felt fine outside, now he feels different. Reaching the bar he orders a drink then looks at his hand on the bar. That doesn't look like his perfectly manicured hand, he curls his lip looking at it and something tickles his nose. Reaching up he feels a mustache. He knows full well he didn't have one before. Unable to take not knowing he orders a mirror from the bar and then blinks at what looks back at him.

Horror is the only way to describe the look on his face. Not his face but the one he's currently got. This is not his pretty face that sells millions, of magazines,

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME?!"

Anyone is welcome to come comfort or slap him around a bit.

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Gus has been transformed into someone else as well for Halloween as well, but it's taken the form of a red KILL ME sign, masquerading as a shirt.

He has no idea who the person freaking out with the mirror is, but one thing's for sure -- it's funny as hell.

"Who the fuck are you supposed to be?" he asks, laughing.

Of all the people in the bar that could have seen him like this the one person he didn't want to just has.

"I think I'm supposed to be this guy names Gus."

His eyes narrow at the Star Trek costume and assumes that he meant to do it.

Gus takes a good look at Rook.

"Jesus, I need to get my ass on a treadmill."

Alarm crosses his face, treadmill that can only mean one thing he runs his hands over his abdomen where the hell did the padding come from? He pokes it realizing that it's his flesh.

"You're Gus? Why oh why do I look like you?"

Gus takes the mirror from his latest doppelgänger (and good goddamn, there sure are a lot of them around here) and looks at himself in the mirror.

He looks like he did before his last stint in prison. A little lighter, and without the unfortunate choice of facial hair.

"It's a good look, man," he says. "Bar probably did you a favour."

He looks at him and blinks. Yes Gus currently doesn't look that bad. In Rook's opinion it's not a favor. And yes there is a lot of those that look like Gus. The same can be said for Rook him self. If all the ones that looked like these two left would anyone be left?

"Really? You think so, not that your bias right?"

Of course he's biased. The man's positively full of himself, and no one would ever argue that.

"Course. Why else would you have gone with that look?"

Beat.

"Just, uh... watch your ass around security. They've got it out for me, big time."

He goes to run a hand though his hair and groans out when it's no there.

"Because the bar is playing a prank on me? I would rather have my house toilet papered." Don't temp him to TP the bar he might after all no one knows it's him...

"Are you pulling my leg or are you wanted?"

"Technically, I'm on parole," Gus says simply. "But that doesn't keep security here from assuming that everything that happens around here is my fault."

Gus just winks at him. It'll be nice to take a bit of a break and let someone else take the heat.

He really is tempted to do stuff and let Gus get the blame. Last time he was in the bar he went Demon bunny hunting.

"Does this mean I can't order drinks?"

He goes to turn around and then realizes he has a limp too. This doesn't stop does it?

"Even if you could, you probably can't open it."

He reaches over and grabs a collapsible cane, and hands it to the guy. "And you might want that."

Okay, so he's not a total dick.

he nods and takes it.

"Thank you." And he means it. "Okay, how do they keep you from opening it?"

Edited 2010-11-01 04:21 (UTC)

"Oh, they don't," Gus says. "Blame it on that fucking walrus."

"Is the walrus a person or did a large mammal fish thing maul you?"

Gus here is were you can get your bluff in again, until he notices scars. Just don't let him get naked and it works!

"No, he's a fucking fed, man," Gus says. "Big fat bastard, and bent to all hell."

Gus can watch his own nose curl up and a frown.

"That's not good. Then maybe can order a draft beer then."

"Good luck, pal," Gus says.

It's sort of fun watching someone freak out over everything that Gus has just grown to accept as inevitable.

He walks to the bar slowly using the cane and frowns when he orders a beer and gets a soft drink.

"What the hell, You made me him you BAR! You should know I'm not him!"

Then this should be entertaining.

"Hurts less if you hold that on the other side," Gus says, referring to the cane.

He knows exactly what it feels like to be in this guy's shoes, and he's not so heartless that he's gonna just let the guy hurt all day.

Then, he can't help it. He orders a Sam Adams, and is quite pleased to find his order filled.

He's even more pleased when he can open the damn thing.

Rook takes a drink at least he got a Coke.

"Thanks, hey I wonder if because it only lets me have Coke if this also goes on your tab?"

Gus shrugs. "Never pay it anyway," he admits.

Supposedly, people get in trouble for that, but he's gotten away with it so far.

"Really how big does it get?"

He's interested because he doesn't want to run it up.

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