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milliways_bar2011-03-27 03:22 pm
lostadog.livejournal.com) wrote in milliways_bar2011-03-27 03:22 pm
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"What's this, then?" It's all the man in the doorway can think to say, as he steps, for the first time, into the bar. He's wearing his engineering uniform, since he's supposed to be in the galley for lunch, and not in an interdimensional bar.
This man, however, is adaptable. Time on a miserable iceball has taught him to never take a meal for granted, and especially not to refuse a proper drink. He steps in farther, and the door closes, disappearing, for the time being. Not that he notices. Doors closing behind him were never creepy.
Montgomery Scott looks around the bar, and while there are many he knows are not human, he doesn't bat an eye. Instead, he makes his way to the bar, looking around with the sharp curiosity that makes him so good at his job. It's also the kind of curiosity that gets him in trouble more often than he'd really like.
(Open until tonight, no slowtimes after Tuesday morning PST)
This man, however, is adaptable. Time on a miserable iceball has taught him to never take a meal for granted, and especially not to refuse a proper drink. He steps in farther, and the door closes, disappearing, for the time being. Not that he notices. Doors closing behind him were never creepy.
Montgomery Scott looks around the bar, and while there are many he knows are not human, he doesn't bat an eye. Instead, he makes his way to the bar, looking around with the sharp curiosity that makes him so good at his job. It's also the kind of curiosity that gets him in trouble more often than he'd really like.
(Open until tonight, no slowtimes after Tuesday morning PST)
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Gus? Is seriously not amused right now.
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We do apologise for the rather ethnocentric American, here.
He just stares at Scotty for a long moment, hoping that maybe he won't have to explain himself.
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"Better than hard of thinking," he says, mostly to himself, but loud enough for Scotty to hear.
Still, he puts on his amazingly friendly smile and sits back in his seat.
"Three rules," he says. "No sex, no violence, no business. No fun, if you ask me. First drink's on the house, so make it a good one. I recommend the Atlantean or that Pan Galactic thing, whatever it's called. Food's good, but stay away from the women, 'cause they're all a little nuts around here."
This may actually technically count as violence, depending on how you look at it.
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Of course, any information given in this setting is suspect. Still, it's quite likely he's dreaming, after being brained by one of his subordinates on accident. The repairs around the galley were some of the trickier ones.
"I'm more hungry than thirsty. Does this place do food, too?"
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"Oh, yeah. Menu's great. Try the paradox."
Okay, that one is an honest suggestion. Only because he can't think of anything on the menu offhand that may cause damage to his latest doppelgänger.
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The bar dutifully presents Scotty with a steak. He accepts this without comment. "So are you the welcoming committee, then?"
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World's worst welcoming committee, this. Sorry, Scotty.
"Welcoming committee gets half of whatever you're having."
See?
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"Long as you leave some for me, I think I can manage to not rat you out."
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"Hey, man. I'm just telling you the rules," he says. "Inter-dimensional bars at the end of the universe have strange rules, and you gotta follow them."
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"Officers?" he asks. "Man, you're not in Kansas any more. Head of security is an actual god. As in, raised the mountains out back, will turn you into a mouse if you piss him off, god. I'm pretty sure he's the one clown in this place that wouldn't be fooled by some party trick."
Gus. Just stop now, while you're ahead. There's a reason no one likes you.
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It's a damn good steak. He wonders if he ought to push his luck, but decides that one plate would be easier to defend than two.
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The Starfleet Academy version of the infamous pool on the roof.
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He's dead serious.
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Scotty! <3!
Chekov! *squee*
He does stop short for a minute, when he sees that the young man is still in his Academy uniform. Thankfully, Scotty's a canny man, used to dealing with time travel.
"You're the navigation kid!"
Or maybe not.
Eee! Your icon is adorable. Utterly. :D!
"Yes, sir," he says, already familiar with getting attention for being the 'whiz kid' at the Academy. It's no big secret he's going into navigation. While the Russian accent mars hi word some, it's still easy to translate, relatively. "Pavel Chekov."
Hollow Art ftw.
He smiles at the younger man. "Nice to see someone from home. I was afraid this place was a hallucination at first." Scotty's accent is just as noticeable as Chekov's, though perhaps not quite as thick.
Hee. It was useful finding the ones for Pavel, too. I should have more non-canon ones.
"Most people just call me Chekov," he says, "Or viz kid," he adds with a tiny askance look.
I have the opposite problem.
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"Vhich ship are you on?"
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"She is as beautiful as I zink she vill be?"
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Besides, the captain is crazy, the medical officer is good for a laugh, and the rest of the officers make him feel at home. "Only a year away. I guess everyone looks younger in those uniforms."
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He shrugs; he's pragmatic about this. "I cannot vait until I am out of zese," he says, picking at the red undershirt.
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