milliways_bar | (no subject)

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ianto jones

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Ianto Jones is not his usual polished self when he comes through the doorway, and he just scribbles this on the Specials board:

TONIGHT'S SPECIALS
COFFEE
any way you like it

Long story short, don't get into negotiations with the Axorfacorians when you've got a second job to get to.

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The bright bangled gal who takes a seat at the bar tonight seems a bit baffled by the specials board. She's had coffee one way - very very black, and usually overbrewed and left on the heat half the day before she's gotten to it.

.... Like coffee?

Ianto polishes a glass and waits for an actual order.

She's never seen a bartender behind the bar before, and supposes, like everything else here, he is not what he seems. So she gives him a friendly smile before petting the hardwood of the bar.

"Pelmeni and vodka, mmm? I'll be inventive tomorrow."

[ooc: Psst, they've met.]

"The vodka I can do--the pelmeni you may need to ask the waitrats for, as I don't know what that is."

(OOC: *sigh* I miss my brains. Have you seen them?)

She blinks, vaguely remembering him from the few times she came in before... before, anyway. Right. Bartenders who appear sometimes. Sometimes she thinks this place should come with written directions.

"Not know pelmeni? This is almost a crime." She replies, while she gets her mental feet back under her.

[ooc: Have you checked your pockets? I'm always finding odd things in my pockets.]

"Cultural differences," says Ianto. "I'm sure you don't know what bara brith is."

She squints, searching through years of memories, because it sounds familiar somehow. After a long pause, she hazards a guess, sounding doubtful.
"Something Argentinian, I think? It was something our... hostess made. I think that's what she called it. Something like that, then the local name, of course." It was a long time ago, when a Light-backed regime was threatened and the local Night Watch had required bolstering.

He blinks at her.

"It's a kind of bread we have in Wales."

She frowns, focusing. This is what she was trained to do, remember details no matter how theoretically trivial - it's dangerous to guess in the field what is important and what isn't.

"Definitely had it in Argentina. Um. 'Torta negra'?" Spanish rolling off of a Russian tongue is a very... unique experience, to say the least. "A sort of... Kulich?"

"Uh, sure," says Ianto, who is unaware of the Argentinean connection. "What's Kulich?"

"It is.... a sweet, yeasty bread, a holiday bread? It has dried fruit, like yours. Not the same, but... close." She explains, ending with a shrug. "It is hard to explain, no?"

"It sounds like bara brith," says Ianto and finally remembers to give her the vodka.

"Spasiba." She nods, taking the glass and letting the hard liquor rattle against her back teeth.

Mmmm. Not bad, not bad at all.

The Bar's stores are the best in the universe.

Multiverse.

'Verse.

"You're welcome."

She casually slides the glass back in his direction, because... well. There's a reason a lot of vodka bottles don't come with threaded caps.

"So, you serve bar where you are from, too?" A coffee bar, she'd assume - this is the second time he's favored coffee flavors, much to her bemusement. It's just... coffee.

"Not anymore," says Ianto. "I did for a while before my current job."

She tilts her head, a curious cant, because surely he won't just leave it there. What has taken the coffee-loving bartender from his job?

Besides. He has the vodka.

He refills her glass. "I catch aliens now."

"Aliens? You are with immigration?" She grew up hearing Seymon's stories about dodging the prying eyes of immigration officers (just for the fun of it, just the human ones - you don't mess around with those that serve the Treaty). This glass of vodka she goes through slower, savoring the taste.

"No. Actual aliens from outer space."

"And they... require catching, the aliens?" Perhaps Earth is like the Cancun of the universe - a fantastic place for all the party-goers and trouble-makers.

...

Maybe all of the other planets are really cold?

"They do. They can cause a lot of problems."

She sips the vodka, feeling its dry bite, her expression curious and puzzled.

"Can? It is an... interesting word, no?" Many humans can cause problems. Many Others can cause problems.

This Other has made making problems something of an art form.

"I never really thought about it," says Ianto.

"Oh... I see." There's a few people here she thinks about telling about Others, about Moscow... with that answer, Ianto is not likely to make that list. It is a worrying answer, to her. Of course, she has her own blind spots - for example, she never doubted the orders of her boss, not for a second. Perhaps, she muses, it is the culture - she is used to philosophical debate - sometimes with those of her own kind, sometimes with Dark Others... usually with alcohol involved.

"I suppose that would make it easier."

"Black," Hao says, as he settles onto a stool. He looks like a young teenager, except for his eyes.

"Black it is," says Ianto and chooses a dark roast, too.

Oh, that smells heavenly. For a human, this one isn't too bad, Hao decides, as he inhales the aroma. If it tastes half as good as it smells...

"Ahh... That's very well done," he comments, after taking a sip.

"Thank you," says Ianto, pleased.

"Not at all; it's the truth. Another?" he asks. This body isn't so young anymore that he feels the need to restrict his coffee intake too much.

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