Happy Hour

[not_his_pa]

The Bar finds William as he's limping his way through the last of his chores and checking that the tack's stored away. He smiles as he comes through, time's been on his side and he's healing up. The bruises on his face are pretty colors but healing, his knee hurts but he can walk on it and his elbow's bending better.

When he gets to the counter, he gets a napkin asking him to tend and grins before finding the door behind and writes out the specials before balancing himself on a stool and pouring some whiskey and ice for himself.

Specials
Desert Healer
Vodka
Sodas
Recommend something good for me to read and your drink's free.

Comments

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

"My book came with the oddest selection of books," notes a man reading the board. "I think it's someone's idea of a recommended reading list.

"A few of them are worth actually reading."

[not_his_pa]

"What sorts of books did you ask for, sir? Can I get you anythin'?"

William carefully stands up to make his way over to where Charlie is and look at his pile of books.

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

"Just some water.

"And that's the funny thing. I didn't ask. I just found books. About 40. Most are philosophy. Good stuff for some." He show one such book. The Art of War by Sun Tzu. "Don't let the name fool you. It can be used for things that don't involve killing." Those he would add that business and politics can be as cutthroat as war.

[not_his_pa]

"Any particular kind of glass, sir? That seems nice of her, maybe she thought you needed somethin' new to read. I don't think I've heard of that book before."

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

"Just a glass. No need for anything special.

"I don't think it's that widely known." Pause. "When are you from?"

[not_his_pa]

William says a date in the late 1860s and picks a glass within easy reach and fills it from a container of water in the fridge,

"That do for you, sir?"

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

"Yes.

"And I think that in your time no one had translated this book. Or brought it to America," Charlie would guess the young man is from the south or west, for what it's worth.

[not_his_pa]

"They might have back East, sir but out in Arizona, we don't get that many new books."

[52-dropoff.livejournal.com]

"You get to read much by Mark Twain?" Has Twain even hit it big yet at this time?

[properpolice.livejournal.com]

Shaz has been in a few pubs in her time. She's met a few pubicians, and a few bar maids... and now William is getting a faintly jaded look of a beat copper wondering what exactly the story behind this is.

[not_his_pa]

William tries to sit up straighter when she comes up to the Bar and nods to her,

"Can I get you anythin', ma'am?"

[properpolice.livejournal.com]

"You old enough to be servin'?" She asks, though there's truly precious little she could do about it here. Actually, there's precious little she could do about it anywhere - if the beer is good, there's quite a few lads who'd be convinced to look the other way with a pint or two.

Still. Force of habit. According to mum, it's a good habit.

Of course, DI Drake has to wake up to keep saying those sorts of things, doesn't she?

[not_his_pa]

"I'm pretty sure I am, ma'am, least don't think anyone would care at home,"

He knows in the future people probably would but Milliways is different.

[properpolice.livejournal.com]

"That's not quite what I meant." But really, what is she supposed to do with it? If the boy steps down, someone has to step in, and that'd most likely (given her luck) be her.

That doesn't exactly sound like a break from her normal life.

"Don't suppose I could have a cuppa."

[not_his_pa]

He knows its not exactly what she meant but he doesn't have a good answer for her, "Of course you can, ma'am. Of what?"

The way she says it, he's clearly supposed to know but he doesn't want to give her the wrong drink.

[properpolice.livejournal.com]

"..." That's... not the answer she expected, ever. It's... almost sacrilage. Almost refreshing, but almost sacrilage.

"Of... tea?"

[not_his_pa]

"Yes, ma'am,"

There are a lot of teas but he picks one that has English in the name and finds a nice teapot and goes with a generous scoop of leaves in the little pot. He discovered that the coffee machine has a thing with always hot water so uses that and then gently sets the pot in front of her then put the matching cup and saucer. The pot has a strainer in it, which is lucky as he's forgotten to get one,

"Do you want milk or sugar, ma'am?"

[evil_koala_626]

Stitch's door and appetite don't normally coincide with Happy Hour. When your door decides to up an dissapear though it tends to limit your options. There is a pattering of rapid footsteps as something small approaches the bar. Moments later a... creature has scaled the nearest stool and pauses for a moment, peering at William through large crimson eyes.


Beat.


An empty jar is pointedly thunked on to Bar's surface.


"More," growls the figure with a hint of urgency. Most days the 'please' would follow after a few seconds. Today is not most days.

[not_his_pa]

William reflexively goes for a gun that's not on his hip and tries not to stare too much,

"More what?"

[evil_koala_626]

William's question prompts a look. It is a look that clearly calls his intelligence into question.

Ordinarily the staring might garner a snigger. At the moment, however Stitch is hungry. Stitch has never been quite this hungry before.

"More." Honestly. The jar is pushed farther across the Bar. Surely William knows what Guava mustard is! Or, y'know, can read the label.

[not_his_pa]

He hadn't realized the jar had a label due to well Stitch but carefully William takes the jar and backs up,

"I'm goin' to go into the kitchen and see if they have some. Don't eat anyone."

[wurstoftheworst]

The Milliways kitchens, as one might expect, have a well-stocked pantry. Too well-stocked, if anything; there's a little bit of everything, but finding any particular item is going to be a bit of a challenge.

However, not everything in the pantry is neatly stacked. A box on a lower shelf has broken open, spilling bright-red wrappers, also torn open, all over the floor.

...if one didn't know better, one would swear that the box and the wrappers were ripped open from the inside.

[not_his_pa]

Its an impressive box and William carefully steps around it and searches through the mustards until he finds the one he wants.

He grabs the biggest jar he can find and hopes its enough to satisfy the thing out there. While he's there he considers the other mustards and grabs the two jars on the other side of the guava as well; mango and papaya.

The name on the wrappers is odd, calling something were doesn't seem like a good idea. With his boot, he pushes them towards one of the trash cans, he doesn't really want to pick it up but he knows the rats don't like a mess. He doesn't notice that one of the wrappers attaches itself to the heel of one of his boots as he's concentrating on not dropping the jars.

[evil_koala_626]

"Blargh," blarghs Stitch in the meanwhile, itching himself furiously under one arm. This might be disspariging the stupidity of Willima's admonishment. Or it might be an exclimation of impatience at tonight's service. More likely than not, it's both. Both of those and the rash. The rash is less than fun.


Claws are drummed on the Bar. When William does not return promptly enough, he begins eating the garnishes.

[not_his_pa]

William's getting there as quick as he can, his knee still hurts and he places the jars of mustard on the counter,

"There you go. What are you eatin'?"