milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Nikola enters the bar this evening, his usually immaculate appearance is somewhat marred by the blood splattered on his clothes (and his face and his hands and his--gasp--hair).

He doesn't appear to be injured at all, though. And his expression is smugly self-satisfied--not that this is anything unusual. He makes his way up to the bar and has a seat as though there is not at all odd about going to a bar covered in blood.

"Could I have a glass of Atlantean and a handkerchief, please, dear?"

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Yrael smiles as she sees the smug vampire ~~who she'd been missing~~ enter the bar.

"You, my dear, are a mess," says the lounging not'cat in the rafters, putting down her book.

Nikola is busy wiping blood from his face when he glances up to the rafters and sees her, smiling in greeting.

"Yes, well, massacres do tend to get messy."

"I miss all the fun," she sighs. "Who was massacred?"

"Johnny and I paid a little visit to the Cabal's major installations. The real ones this time."

He smirks. "Much as I hate to admit it, he does know how to let loose and have a good time."

The Bright Shiner grins, turning to slip down off the rafter and land beside him.

"That news is enough, I suppose, for me to forgive you for not inviting me," she grins.

(ooc: Must run to the grocery store. Will return! :D)

"I'd much rather have gone with you, my dear, believe me. There simply wasn't time."

He thoughtfully licks a drop of blood from one of his fingers and makes a face at the taste.

"Alas!" says she, but Yrael is smiling. "But it is good to know that revolting organization will not make itself bothersome again."

They at least provided some fun before the end, finally being of some use.

"Join me for a celebratory glass of wine?"

"I'd be delighted," Nikola says, matching her grin.

"It's been a good few days, over all."

"I received some wine as a gift recently that you might like to try, if you don't mind spoilers," she says.

"Vintage AD 2369, I believe."

"I don't mind at all. It will give me something to look forward to."

The bar has been keeping the wine for Yrael, so the bottle of red and two glasses promptly appear. Yrael pours for them both.

"To successful ventures?" she suggests, lifting her glass.

Smiling, Nikola raises his glass as well, nodding. "To successful ventures."

Yrael sips the wine, savoring it, and smiles.

"I found a study that might interest you, a few days ago," she remarks, fetching a book from behind the bar. "There is an archaeologist who, by studying the chemical residues left on ancient libation vessels in the tombs of the pharaohs, has been able to determine their ingredients, and in many cases reverse-engineer the recipes used to make ancient wines."

And beers, too, but wine is the point.

Nikola sips his wine thoughtfully.

"The results of that could be either extremely interesting or extremely disappointing."

Marian had come from the Security Hall, and was headed to order her tea when she noticed the man. Or rather noticed all of the blood on the man, in question. He did not seem to be standing or hold poorly, but it is habit as well as concerned curiosity. She cannot help that. "Are you alright?"

Edited 2012-01-30 03:58 (UTC)

Nikola glances up from his glass with a(n almost) friendly smile.

"I'm just fine yes, thank you."

"Forgive me, it simply that you appear--" she let the sentence linger last word unsaid, as she raised a hand, to make a graceful gestured to his body and hair. Though it is an astute appraisal to her blue-grey eyes. She spends her days in a court where all appearance as disbelieving.

Smirking, Nikola picks up the handkerchief Bar provided him with and wipes a bit of blood off his cheek. "Handsome? Charming? Unbelievably clever?"

Because clearly, those were appropriate ways to end her sentence.

Perhaps, is she wasn't herself. Perhaps, if Robin had never been an arrogant boy so very certain of his charms from her early teens. It would have earned more. She raised her eyebrows, nor entirely impressed, clear gaze.

"Wounded." Beat. "Fresh from an altercation." That would clearly not be here. Given the rules and the security, therein. But the word 'fresh' still pertained when it was all still quite different.

"Though, apparently, you are quite well." If he's at ease with that face, and the words he chose.

"Fresh from an altercation, yes," Nikola admits, grinning slightly. "Wounded, certainly not. It would take a little more than that to actually hurt me."

"I ask your pardon, then, for disturbing you for your drink." There were certain things she might never countenance as normal here, and that is probably better than any other option given her position. But it's more in the way he smiles, that stops her from asking about the state of elsewhere.

Because he was in the possession of a drink. And a smile.

Edited 2012-01-30 04:41 (UTC)

His smile stays firmly in place, turning just a bit flirtatious.

"A beautiful woman is a disturbance I never mind," he says. It's mostly true, after all.

She can't help but thinking first that most men who address her as such are at least far more cleaned up. Except this is followed with the fact the one whom she usually believes most, might look like this just swapping the blood for dirt.

Marian settled her gaze on him for a moment, before she shifted it. Finger resting on the bar, gentle but known. "A tea service, please. Whichever, tonight."

And then turned back, faintly bemused exasperation. "Perhaps, you could start with your name, then." As she always attempt to wait her a few seconds, even if courtesy was such a demanding mistress.

Edited 2012-01-30 05:24 (UTC)

"Ah, yes. Forgive me." He wipes his right hand clean and then offers it in greeting. "Nikola Tesla."

She doesn't exactly look like she's from a time period where she could know who he is, so there isn't that note of expectation in his voice that there usually is when he introduces himself.

She held her hand out, courteous if nothing else. At least when it behoove her to be so. And left up to him to decide whether it is to have the back up or to be shaken. Milliways does that.

"Lady Marian of Nottingham."

And if he doesn't expect, she doesn't outwardly appear to. While honestly she leaves the pause for it out of kindness, and some small part both curiosity and habit. At five years here it seemed to be only one in ten people who didn't have some instant, if small, tell of recognizing her name.

Especially once it had moved back to Nottingham from Knighton.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

He goes for neither, actually, instead bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing the back briefly. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Marian. Somewhat of an honor, too."

It's not a story he grew up with, but he's seen many, many versions of it since his childhood.

It is a small surprise, and maybe that touches her expression. The smallest rise of her eyebrows and the hint of a smile. Very few people here ever display the edge of courtly grace, especially not since the Narnian Exodus.

"Oh?" Is faintly, but kindly this time too, a challenging question to his last words. Looking if not impressed, than somewhere near pleasantly amused.

Nikola has met one or two nobles in his lifetime, though it's been a very long time since they were part of his routine.

"Indeed. You're quite famous by the time I come around."

"So it would seem." Is indecisively toned about perfectly to neutral.

Marian turned back to the service that had appeared. A tea service far more suited to England hundreds of years after her own time. China cup, with saucer, and plate of biscuits. All on a wooden carrying tray with handles.

"Surely someone else has mentioned this to you?"

He wipes a bit more blood off his hands as he picks up his wine.

"Several, as a point of fact." Marian glanced to him from the side. There's a kind tone, with almost the most hazy shade of warning mixed with with being quite used to what she's talking about.

"In the beginning I had to make it a point of order to not have people tell me how I would or could or should live out the rest of my life." Not that anyone in her life would have expected her to listen regardless, regardless of what side they were on.

"Mistress Bar, could you grant us a bowl of water, too?"

It might go far better than a lone napkin.

Edited 2012-02-01 03:29 (UTC)

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of trying to ruin the surprise," Nikola is quick to assure her. He wouldn't want to know his own future.

Not to mention that the nature of Milliways makes it almost impossible to do with any certainty.

He glances down at the bowl with a questioning expression when it appears. "Is that for me?"

Marian would agree, quite a lot.

She nodded, while picking up her tea cup.

"It wouldn't hurt to have more at your disposal."

And maybe she's used to picking up after men in this state.

"Does it bother you?" Nikola asks, dipping his napkin in the water and using it to clean his face a bit better.

Concerned, perhaps. Evoked, even. But. Bothered?

"No," Marian said with a shake of her head, looking over at him, evenly. "Especially not, as you are not wounded." Or at least that he proclaimed to be so. And did not appear to be bleeding freely from anywhere himself.

Maybe especially actually belonged more to a harsher truth. That she'd spent the last four years of her life learning with each step how to see things so much worse than this, being forced into the lesson of learning to stand as unflinching as possible, while terrible acts of death were carried out right before her.

"If I were wounded, that would bother you?"

He smirks, finding the idea vastly amusing.

It's in how he asks.

The way it reminds her of Robin.

Prompting, oddly. "It would depend."

"On what, exactly?"

There was no hesitation. "How, and why, you got wounded."

And whether it was his own fault. Or belonged to stupidity.

She had been the one to yank Robin's stitches while putting them in.

"Am I to assume you wouldn't care if it was my own damn fault?"

Marian couldn't not care if her life depended on it. And it does. Frequently. Hers, and her father's, and several other people. Some of whom keep ending up dead, in a list of names she'll never let herself forget.

"I would still care as whether you were dying, or needed medical attention, and see that you got it with haste, if needed," Marian considering, faintly frowning at the term chosen in his last few words. It's her job, as well as her personal need.

"But the amount to my sympathy for your plight might be different."

"So you'd care, but you'd still blame me," Nikola says thoughtfully, an amused smile on his lips.

"I'll have to remember that."

"As would be fitting, were it your fault," Marian said, trying not to construct the list of reasons she always wouldn't under the same circumstances. For the same example in her head, and a few here.

Directively, though, her glance motioned back to his shirt, and all, before asking, evenly enough to make it cool curiosity and not a link to the prior topic. "What did happen to you?"

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