(no subject)

[wantedman]

PRE-ENTRANCE #2

[ REBOOT SEQUENCE INITIATED ]


The door opens to the sound of glass shattering somewhere nearby; the man who enters blinks to protect his vision against the bright lights of the bar.

Momentarily blinded, he shields his eyes with a hand as a dog -- a dusty Border Collie looking thing -- runs in behind him, circling around its master (is he?) before flopping down on the floorboards.

The man lowers his hand and surveys the barroom with steel-eyed concentration, the lack of emotion on his face acting as a mask of sorts, giving him a moment to attempt to figure out just where he is.

He doesn't remember this place.

(But then again, he doesn't remember anything, so that's not a surprise.)


Moving into the room, he makes his way towards the counter. He might as well get a drink.



[First entrance. Post is open, but please, if your pup would have the ability to tell the man his name, refrain? It wouldn't do to spoil him for his own canon. See userinfo for description.]

Comments

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

He's not the only one at the Bar with a dog in tow. The young woman in the green... well, by the standards of his time it's probably men's wear, although it being a jumpsuit and all, it's hard to say what kind of man would wear it... has been out back all day. By the smell of things, working with cattle. Her own dog is out back due to an unfortunate encounter with something half-rotted that smelled much nicer to him than to his human.

Anyway, said human just got what she considers to be a rather nice beer when the stranger comes in, and so she's in a better mood than the icon would indicate when she looks up and sees him.

... huh. That... doesn't look like a Pip-Boy.

[wantedman]

It's not a Pip-Boy, but if it was, then at least the man would know what it is.

He notices the woman. And notices her very strange choice in attire, but he doesn't comment, as she is a Chinaman and who knows what the hell passes for 'normal workwear' for their type.

But she looks pleasant enough -- despite the faded scars on her face -- so he nods his head as he takes a place at the counter.

Maybe she works in the mines around this place.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Well, she is about twenty times more comfortable underground than on the surface, even in dark and narrow tunnels. That probably counts for something.

"Afternoon, sir," she says, and if she's a Chinawoman she's at least one who's been in the country long enough to not sound the part at all. "I don't think I've seen you around here before. Is this your first time at Milliways?"

(Let's be honest: she's more curious about that thing on his wrist than him. But that is absolutely not a reason to be anything but polite.)

[wantedman]

"Afternoon," he replies.

(She doesn't sound like she 'should' and that throws him for a moment, but he doesn't let it show.)

He glances around the bar, still attempting to find something, anything, that looks familiar.

Nothing.


He looks back at her.

"I believe so," he adds. "But I'm not certain."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"It doesn't always look the same if you've been away for a long while," she says. "Someone seems to change the place around between visits."

That, or the walls move on their own and the furniture shifts to accommodate it. But given that this place is staffed with rats, and has an automated AI vendor built into the bar, she's willing to believe that there's a machine somewhere that makes the changes, or other staffers, or- or something.

"But if this is your first time, the first drink's free."

[wantedman]

"That's awful kind of the barkeep."

He's been looking for the man -- or woman, as it may be -- but hasn't seen hide nor hair of them yet. Maybe they're out back in the store room; though he does find it odd that the preacher lives next door to such a crowded, bustling bar.

"Though I suppose it will keep folk comin' back."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I have a feeling that's why they do it," Ellen says. "Otherwise some people would probably just turn around and go right back."

She glances down the Bar a moment, then up the other way. All right, happy hour isn't starting any time soon, so-

"Bar? Could we get some whiskey for this gentleman, please?"

He looks like he could use it.

[wantedman]

The man glances in the direction she's speaking, and is stunned to see the sudden appearance of a glass of whiskey on the bar's surface.

He blinks. And blinks again.



"...what the hell?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"It... can be a little strange around here," Ellen admits. "There's some kind of mechanism set up so that if there's nobody to tend the Bar, it takes spoken orders on its own. The storerooms here must be pretty huge, to hold all the things people order."

[wantedman]

He hears her words, but they don't make any sense.

Disbelieving and confused: "The bar...takes orders on its own."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen nods. "It's not any mechanism I recognize," she says, "but it seems to work, most of the time. They must've had a very good designer."

She's aware of the existence of magic, and she's been told about Bar being magical, but she grew up with robots. One of them is her housekeeper. The idea that the Bar is just another AI is far more natural.

"I know it's really strange, sir. There's not much I can do about that."

[wantedman]

As far as he's concerned, either she's crazy, or he is - and given the splitting headache he had when he woke up in the desert a few hours ago, he wouldn't be surprised if it was his mind that had been lost.

But for the sake of arguing and the sake of the whiskey sitting in front of him, he'll 'accept' it for the time being.

"Don't suppose there is."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen nods. "Anyway," she says, "the Bar works whether you know how it does or not, so as long as you don't start a fight or bring in old business from home while you're here-"

She always has trouble figuring out how to tell people about Rule Three without stammering, and generally skips it as a result. This is one of those times.

"-you should be all right," she concludes, reaching up to scratch at one of those faded scars a moment with her left hand.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"Well, how 'bout this. Two bottles of polish from Marthols, an' y'never tell Spoon 'bout those extra geckos."

There appears to be an English juvenile delinquent arguing with the bar.

As you were.

[wantedman]

Her accent is intriguing -- if only because he supposes it's been awhile since he's heard one like it.

But he's not sure.

Of anything, really.



He tips his hat to her, if she acknowledges him as he approaches.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"Hullo, mate." Love a cowboy. Ace grins, slyly (or not so slyly) crumpling the napkin with bar's adamant refusal written on it.

She knew she ought to have gone for three bottles.

"Nice bracelet."

[wantedman]

He glances at his wrist -- between meeting the preacher and the gunshot that just shattered the window out back, he'd almost forgotten about the iron on his wrist.

His mouth tightens a fraction.

"I'm not so sure it is."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"Why not? Just as interestin' as any other option." She hasn't seen anything exactly like it, but the general design rings some bells. Some very 'please don't shoot me again' bells.

Ace hates getting shot.

A lot.

"Just think of all the fashion choices."
"What d'you call it then?"

[wantedman]

"I'm not sure," he repeats. "I'm not even sure how I got it, to be completely honest."

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"That sort've night, huh?" She grins, a fire-bright grin that suggests that's the best sort of night. "Good times."

[wantedman]

That at least gets a smile out of him, even if he has no memory of the night (or days, weeks, and months) before. He can appreciate the joke.

"So what does a man have to do to get a drink around here?"

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"Ask nicely." Ace advises, swinging her feet. Almost a century she's been alive, and her feet still don't touch the floor when she's on anything than a very conservatively-made chair. It's a bit annoying, really.

"An' don't mention the geckos, please. I'm hopin' she forgets all about it, eventually."

[wantedman]

"All right." He won't mention the geckos, though he has no idea what she's going on about lizards for.

His eyes comb the length of the bar for a barkeep, but he finds none.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"Or.... y'could go without, I guess, that is theoretically an option." Ace agrees, after the silence stretches out beyond the point of sustainability.

(7.6 seconds. Ace is crap at waiting. She always has to resist the urge to skip ahead to the good stuff.)

[wantedman]

"It's hard to ask nicely if there isn't anyone to ask," he points out.