milliways_bar | first entrance.

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first entrance.

It's snowing in London.

Cold air comes in through the door before an actual figure does — so does snow, fluttering in the air for a moment longer before it falls to the ground.

The figure itself is lean, for lack of a better word. (His robes seem a little too big for his frame.) 'Beleaguered' is probably the best term to put to his appearance; his clothes fall solely in the grey or brown color categories, and, darned and patched in several places, they do nothing to help his pale complexion. Scars dot his skin, those on his forehead only partially obscured by light brown hair that is already greying.

Initially, he doesn't seem to realize that he isn't where he intended to be. (It's been that kind of day.) He's rifling through one of his pockets, looking for something that he never actually gets around to finding. Two steps in, he stops cold. For the briefest of moments, there is something very, very sharp about the look that he casts about the bar. It doesn't go away, per se, but it does quickly get shuffled behind his usual mild-mannered persona.

(For those who keep an eye on such things, his right hand almost immediately forms a fist, wrist twisted so that his thumb points directly down towards the ground.)

Alright, he thinks, alright.

He can figure it out, one way or another.

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There's a small woman (girl) ensconced in an overstuffed chair by the fire, curled up under a fluffy red blanket. With her frizzed blond hair and delicate features, she certainly doesn't look very threatening.

In fact, with that wide-eyed stare, she looks fairly threatened.

She isn't very strong yet, only aware enough to tell Light from Dark, Other from human, a faint shadow of what she should be able to accomplish. But it's enough to make her wary.

And werewolves in Moscow...

Well.

They aren't nice. And the last three she 'met' ended up crispy, after they made a go for Seymon.

Forgive her for being spooked.

(OOC: BWEEE! Tag, if it is okay?)

She isn't one of the first people that he notices. His immediate concerns are the people closest to him, but the look that she's giving him is one that he's all too familiar with. He blinks a couple of times (that looks means I know what you are and it's often meant you're out of a job again) before offering up a quick, hesitant sort of smile.

Remus Lupin, the wolf, is no laughing matter.

Remus Lupin, the man, on the other hand, has never been one to make waves.

She's seated far enough from him that he doesn't make any effort (yet) to speak to her or assuage whatever fears she may have. (He wonders, yes, how she knows about his condition — it usually takes most at least a little time to figure things out — but his physical state, he supposes, would be enough to put a person on edge.) Instead, he takes a few steps to the side so he isn't directly in front of the door, trying to gain a grasp on the bar proper.

He smiles.

He smiles?

A werewolf hasn't smiled at her in decades.

...

Not after they cleaned out that den that was hunting humans at random from the tunnels underneath the Fountain House. She'd been seventeen, and what her fighting style lacked in grace, it was made up for in enthusiasm and the energy of sheer terror.

No matter.

He smiled. Generally that's not something done. At least not between her and werewolves. There's some Dark witches and warlocks she'll at least nod at, having come up against enough times that they know each other in the street. There's Anton's family of vampires.

So now the wide-eyed stare has morphed into one of complete confusion. What she wouldn't do for the strength to do more than catch faint hints from the Twilight.

A few beats pass before Lupin tries anything else.

(The place is — a little incomprehensible.)

"I'm sorry," he begins, almost mumbling before he clears his throat, raising a hand as if he didn't already have her attention.

"Could I bother you for a few directions? I seem to have made a wrong turning somewhere."

.......

A polite, well-spoken, friendly werewolf.

She stares at him in stunned incomprehension before that little voice that says 'he asked a question, idiot child, answer him'. A lot of the voices in her head sound a lot like her childhood instructors.

"You did not mean to come to Milliways... sir?" She asks, Moscow heavy in her accent. The 'sir' is an honorific she's never given a werewolf before...

But. But.

Katya is very confused.

(He doesn't entirely know what to make of her reactions. Usually, simple surprise doesn't last very long, and turns into either outright disgust and fear, or awkwardness.)

"Ah, no," he replies, cocking his head to one side. "Milliways, then? I — don't actually believe I've ever heard of it before."

She is over three-quarters of a century old. This is the very very first time she has encountered a polite, well-spoken werewolf. And of course, she's as weak as a mouse, which is already disconcerting to the fighting tiger of Moscow.

"It is a bar, at the end of the universe. People come here by many ways... but most through the door, from their own world."

It's the robes that get Posner's attention initially. He knows he should be used to strange attire by now, but it does still occasionally catch him off guard enough that he gets distracted from the essay he's working on. (With most teenagers, this wouldn't take much. With Posner, getting him away from homework is an epic task.)

It's a beat or two before Lupin notices the attention. He's aware of the state that his clothes are in — well, the state that he's in — and isn't about to really make anything of it. Frame relaxing a little, he takes a few steps further into the bar, presumably to go see if there's some sort of proprietor.

Now that he's gotten past the robes bit, Posner does notice the state said robes are in, and once he's noticed that, he can't not be concerned by it.

"Excuse me," he says, setting his pen aside. "Do you...need some help?"

"An explanation wouldn't go amiss," Lupin responds, trying to be as genial as he can be under the circumstances. (It's easier, for him, at least, than it sounds.)

Posner smiles, then. He thinks he can do the introduction thing now.

"This is Milliways. It's...the bar at the end of the universe."

It's the sharp look (and the fist) that catches X's attention.

She tilts her head slightly while studying him, though for the first minute or two she remains seated.

It gives her time to assess.

Then, of course, she stands, moving toward him with quick, deliberate strides. She is careful to let her boot-heels make noise as she heads across the floor. It takes a surprising amount of effort.

"Hello."

That sort of deliberation is something that Lupin appreciates. His gaze finds her as soon as she's taken a few steps, and as soon as he registers that he's her target, he stays put, posture changing. While he still conveys a little apprehensiveness, he doesn't meant any harm. So long as any isn't put to him first, anyway.

"Hello."

Her own body language suggests someone that is poised to move -- fast -- at a moment's notice. But that could include flight.

(Even if it probably wouldn't.)

"You meant to come here?"

Beat.

"Sometimes people do."

Not as often as they stumble upon it unawares, of course. But X thinks it is safer to check.

He's not the only source of snow in the bar at the moment.
See, Claudia wanted something to drink - not the teleporting blue crap, though one of these days she wants to try to Figure That Out - but she's also been working on her computer for the last mumblemumble hours. Her stomach rumbling got to be too much to ignore, so she got some pizza, and pizza needs nice cold soda to go with it, except her soda got warm while she was working.
But there's no sense in wasting a perfectly good drink when you can re-chill it in a matter of seconds, hence the snowglobe that she's shaking over her glass when she sees the guy come in. (The glass is frosting up quite nicely.)
"Bar sneak up on you?"

"Sneak up on me?" Lupin repeats, some part of him glad that someone else has initiated conversation. (He has never been particularly apt, socially speaking.)

As soon as he sees what she's working on, the polite smile he'd tried to put on falters a little, but it's back on in an instant. First impressions are important, and he's already ruined a little bit of it, or at least he has in his own estimation.

"It's, ah, I believe it's my first time here."

Claudia's hardly the world's best when it comes to being social; in any case, she's not one to hold a slightly wacky first impression against someone. She makes a lot of those herself.
"Snuck up on you, then. Haven't had the experience myself, but apparently it does that to most people." She glances at her glass, decides it's frosty enough to do for now, and puts the snowglobe back in her tool belt.
"Welcome to Milliways. Bar at the end of the universe."

"Hey, shut the door, you're lettin' in the cold," Axel says. He pauses a few feet away, scowling a bit, despite the head-to-toe black leather coat (robe?).

Axel's attitude is (unfortunately) one that immediately puts Lupin more on edge than he already is. His face isn't one that Remus recognizes, and neither is the style in which he's dressed. Lupin's brow knits, expression betraying some wry amusement.

"I hope you'll pardon me when I say that I'd rather not until I've a clear idea of where I seem to have landed."

Blink.

"Oh, a newbie. Yeah, okay, that changes things. You might be better not closin' the door right away." Axel relaxes a little, but... Well, the air around him gets warmer, as he starts spending the magic to keep the cold off.

"You're at The End Of The Universe," he explains. "In an establishment called Milliways. Got it memorised?"

Micah catches the scent of a wolf--in itself not unusual, but this is not Richard, or Jason. Well, that's different; he knows what it means, oh yes, but he's polite enough not to call it out yet. Or ever if he doesn't need to.

He slowly tilts his head down, looking directly at Remus with inhuman eyes, fully yellow-green with slit pupils, just like a cat's.

"New?"

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first entrance.

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