(no subject)

[covert_bandage]

"Oh, for pity's sake, Bar!"

Guess who's gotten his second napkin out of nowhere?

Specials

Anything that involves using a blender


Arcade really wasn't planning on being stuck with the bartending job today. Joke's on him, it would seem. Go order something so at least he feels like he's got something to do.

Comments

[gorgonfondness]

A woman walks along the side of the bar to where Arcade is. She's walking slower than average, however, and she keeps looking down to her left.

"Good evening," she greets. "Can I get a dark chocolate and peanut butter milkshake?"

She then bends over and picks up the reason why she was walking so slow: a baby boy in a green hat. Now that he's no longer occupied with walking, he's getting to work picking at the hat's yarn poms with his tiny fingers.

"And if it's not too much trouble, some pureed cooked carrots for him?"

[covert_bandage]

"I think I can- oh, hello..." Arcade leans forward to peer at the child closely. "Hm. All right, I can do that. I'll need a minute to wash the blender out in between, but if he's all right with waiting it shouldn't be a problem."

He's never worked with chocolate before, but there were instructions on making milkshakes attached to the blender. It can't be that hard.

[gorgonfondness]

"I think he'll be fine with some waiting. He'll probably be so interested in my drink he won't even care."

She tilts the child's hat back a little so he's easier to see, revealing some dark, curly hair like his mother's.

"Cepheus, can you say, 'Hello'?"

"Habah," the baby says distractedly.

"He's had a lot going on today," she says. "It's his first birthday."

[covert_bandage]

"Congratulations," says Arcade to the boy, nodding solemnly. "Making it to your first birthday is a very impressive feat. Ad multos annos, Cepheus."

[gorgonfondness]

Cepheus's response is to hold the pom out so Arcade can get a better look. It still looks clean, if a bit frayed.

"Multos annos?" his mother repeats, curious. "What is that?"

For all her time in Milliways, there's always something new to learn, usually in relation to Earth. It sounds familiar but she can't quite place it.

[covert_bandage]

"Oh, it's Latin. It means 'to many years'- the equivalent of wishing someone many happy returns of the day," Arcade says. "I'd say it was a dead language if Caesar hadn't dug it out of its grave and propped it up as part of his whole resurrected Roman Legion act."

[gorgonfondness]

"Latin? I've not heard of it by name, though I think I've encountered snippets of it before. It is a Blue Sta-, I mean, Earth language, then?"

She doesn't need more to do. She really doesn't. But languages are always so interesting to learn about.

"My world has a universal language but several dialects. There are other languages in our history but most of them are just written now."

[cutting_edgex23]

X studies the specials board for a few long moments.

A few long, silent moments.

"Why is the blender important?"

She is curious.

[covert_bandage]

"Found a working one from before the War back home and I want practice using one here," Arcade says. "You never know when old equipment like that will turn out handy in the lab."

[cutting_edgex23]

"Bar will give you the same model?"

She settles down on a barstool, head tilting ever so slightly.

"Or you are looking for more generalized experience?"

[covert_bandage]

"It's pretty close to the same model," says Arcade. "The one at home has a few more buttons and a larger glass portion. But any kind of experience is a step up from what I've got so far."

[cutting_edgex23]

X considers this. Carefully.

Then --

"There are things you want to -- "

She pauses a moment, searching out the right word.

" -- blend? I am not picky."

Beat.

"Please do not use alcohol."

[covert_bandage]

"I can avoid alcohol, sure," Arcade says. "Around here it's actually safe to. Let me see what I can drum up instead."

Fortunately, when the Bar issued him that blender, there was a set of instructions on the making of milkshakes taped to the side. And equally fortunately the ingredients are towards the front of the refrigerated cabinet just behind him.

"Hm. I don't suppose you have a particular flavor preference?"

[basic_powers]

"..." He'll find one man looking from the specials board, to Arcade, and then to the clothing that Arcade's wearing before the blonde man facepalms a moment.

"...you want some help? Completely free."

[covert_bandage]

"Wouldn't say no," says Arcade. "Honestly, if I'd had a little more time to prepare...'

[basic_powers]

"Well, you're on a fairly easy track with that blender bit..." Beauford sighs, moving in behind the counter to rearrange the trays. "Margaritas, daquiris, and I think vodka slushies should work on the 'make me use the blenders' theme."

He starts re-arranging the bottles in the bottom rack for easy access, regardless of what Arcade may've already done.

[covert_bandage]

Arcade nods. "I'm used to working with laboratory chemicals. I can handle myself relatively well with ordinary mixed drinks behind the bar, although I'd prefer that word of that doesn't get back to my boss. As far as the blender goes... that, I'm still learning."

[basic_powers]

"Acutally, that's not much harder than a simple chemistry experiment." He looks up from arranging the liquors. "Beauford Tannen, I bartend for a living."

[covert_bandage]

"Arcade Gannon. Medical researcher," says Arcade. "Pleasure to meet you, Beauford."

[boston_bruiser]

A strangely-dressed man approaches the Bar and looks at the specials board before taking a seat.

"Just a beer, please."

Yeah, he's not even trying to maintain his cover anymore.

[covert_bandage]

"Not a problem," Arcade says, barely batting an eye. Okay, the turban's a little unusual, but the rest of the gear looks like high desert survival wear. Maybe a little less worn than you see on most people who spend their days tending Bighorner flocks in the Sierras, but that's about it. "The blender and I don't seem to get along anyway. Let's see-"

A little bit of rooting around in the refrigerated cabinet later, and he emerges with a bottle whose label he doesn't recognize. "Sam Adams okay?"

[boston_bruiser]

"Yeah, that's fine."

[covert_bandage]

"All right, then." Arcade passes the bottle partway over, then pauses and grabs a glass. He keeps forgetting that people here tend to prefer glasses for their beer. Back home it's more sanitary the other way.

"So, working with Far Go Traders, Crimson Caravan, or is that freelance merc gear?" He pauses. "Or have I once again made the mistake of assuming I'm talking to someone who knows what I'm talking about?"

[boston_bruiser]

Not Voodoo - he's always drunk it straight out of the bottle.

"'Fraid I don't have a goddamn clue what you're going on about, pal." He takes a swig, then sets it aside.

[covert_bandage]

"My apologies. I keep encountering people here who say they've met people from my own world, but I've never once met anybody from home myself, except for a young woman who'd wandered out of a doctor's office too doped on post-op painkiller to be coherent," says Arcade. "You looked like some of the mercenaries the caravan companies out of the NCR hire for travel security."