milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The young woman who walks through the door tonight missed the violent kerboom that brought temporary chaos down on the bar. ... At least, she missed the kerboom and immediate after-effects. The general sense of unease - that patron casting wary looks toward the infirmary, that passing waitrat looking unusually harried - - is still hanging around, though, and Sariel Rager isn't generally one to miss those sorts of things.

Is something wrong, sir?

It's only when she reaches Bar that she appreciates the crystal hanging in the air for what it is. Or at least, what it appears to be.

Puzzled, mildly concerned-looking twenty-something in a red uniform standing at Bar, a newly materialized mug of what looks like hot chocolate (blame Sonya) held in both hands.

What's been happening in here?

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William's drinking coffee as he crumbles a biscuit in his hand and looking around.

When Sariel looks his way, he nods to her and glances at the crystal.

William gets a nod in return, a little reserved but not at all unfriendly. As for greetings...

"Do you have any idea what that figure is?" From the sound of it, Sariel chose her descriptor for the crystal rather carefully. "Has there been a new addition to Bar?" The 'or' is left dangling, unsaid but loud, in the air. Funny how things end up there.

"No, ma'am, I don't and neither does Mrs. Reynolds. Things are changin' and no one seems to know why,"

It's making him nervous as he doesn't know what he can do other than watch.

Oh dear. There may not have been a frown on Sariel's face before, and maybe there isn't a definite one now, but her expression's clearly gone serious and concerned at William's words. "Has something else happened?"

She's erring on the side of one other thing. She's not betting on singular, though, not that William can know it.

"There was an earthquake and the sky outside's gone red. I've spent all day calmin' the horses down, ma'am."

"There... was an earthquake /here/?" She's not doubting William's answer. If anything, she's trying to reconcile it. Sariel's seen plenty of large-scale unusual happenings, both here and in her own world, but she's never been here for

c-r-a-c-k goes the observation window, and all the lights go out

anything so widely, indiscriminately destructive.

The worst destruction she's seen here seemed fairly choosy, actually.

Beat. "And the sky is red?" Oh. Dear. You don't serve in an organization like Sariel's without becoming well aware of what certain sky colors can mean for a planet. Or for a star. Not that Milliways *has* a star to circle, but...

"True red, or... something like a sunset on Earth?" That's audible worry, to be sure, though Sariel's trying to suppress it.

"Yeah, see how there ain't as many bottles behind the Bar, lot of 'em fell down. Shelves got repaired and most of its cleaned up but there's still glass in places. The horses are restless and the sky is red. I rode in and that just ain't right,"

That's why there's some whiskey in his coffee.

"Oh." That's not just acknowledgement. It's worry, too. Those shelves do look rather empty in spots, and that *is* a fragment of glass she can see just on the other side of Bar, and - crunch! there's another far-flung one under the toe of the foot she just shifted slightly. "I've heard of a planet's sky turning red over time, but as Milliways isn't circling a star of its own--excuse me just a minute?"

Sariel ducks down, and there's a moment of very careful motion at floor level. Then she's up again, and plink! plink! a couple of glass shards land in the nearest bin. The next person might not be wearing Starfleet issue boots. So.

"You're right about the glass. I didn't notice--" Pause. "I'm sorry. It's William, isn't it?" That's slightly apologetic. Now is not the time to mention his bout with the flu.

"Yes, ma'am. I don't know if it is or not, never asked about it. Be careful down there, don't know what else might happen,"

She clearly knows more than he does and he sort of remembers her but worry for the Bar is topmost in his mind.

Nah. There's scientific knowledge, and then there's the knowledge that comes with being on the scene of something. William's clearly got the latter, at least more than Sariel herself does. And don't worry, she's not picking anything else up for the moment. The hand she offers William is undamaged and un-sticky, luckily. "Sariel Rager," she says, though she leaves rank and ship assignment alone just now.

Pause. "I don't *believe* the bar can be circling a star, as it's at the temporal end of the universe..." Now there is a slight frown on her face. "Do you know if anyone has an idea what could have caused the earthquake?"

Call it only half a subject change. It's all related.

"Good to meet you, ma'am. No, no one's figured anythin' out yet though everyone's tryin' to find out what they can,"

His hands are calloused and still a little dirty as he's been in the stables most of the day.

So long as there isn't any... never mind. Sariel's own hands are cool and dry, and if there are callouses, it's doubtful they came from the sort of work William is used to. "And you," Sariel says, and if William's attuned to that sort of thing, he might notice a touch more precision than the average American might employ on the odd word, the hint of... something on another. She isn't likely from Arizona Territory, or at least, not William's Arizona Territory.

That hot chocolate's been all but ignored. It's after Sariel retrieves her hand from William's that she reaches for the mug.

Allpocalyps careful now...

The only scars on his hands are the small ones that he picks up form the work he does.

He picks up his drink and takes a sip before almost spitting it out, "That's not coffee."

Actually it is but a different, strong sort of coffee that he's never had before.

Ooh, that's not a good reaction. Sariel's understandably a little cautious as she takes a sip - a second, but the first was both a short while ago and barely anything at all, hot liquids being what they are - of her own drink.

And grimaces.

And gazes for a long moment into her own mug. Is that...

"Oh," she says. Or maybe ooh. Maybe even eugh, or something shy of it. "That doesn't seem right either."

Traditional, and we really do mean traditional, Aztec hot cocoa was not what Sariel ordered. At least, she didn't intend it that way. But that was iron she tasted just now, and no mistake. And more.

"... Oh no. Is Bar malfunctioning now too?"

William's coffee was too spicy and heavy, Greek coffee that's meant for small demitasse cups not to be gulped like cowboy coffee,

"Seems so. What'd yours turn into?"

"I'm not entirely certain. I ordered hot chocolate, and it still seems to be, but there's at least one ingredient in here that... I didn't ask for." The half-suppressed grimace of eww probably tells at least a little more of the story.

"What was yours, do you think? If not coffee?"

"If it's coffee, it's a kind I've never had. Too spicy and the wrong kind of feel to it."

"That sounds similar to what happened to my drink, at least." In other words, ick. Not that she's saying it. That mug is returned quietly to Bar, and it vanishes without incident. Small comforts?

Curiouser and curiouser. And by curious, we mean... something's off.

"Another thing goin' wrong," He sets his down and rubs his face.

"The earthquake, the sky, that crystal, and now this, too..." Sariel's frowning.

It's concerning, that much is certain.

"Is anyone investigating this officially? Security, or...?"

That's not the tone a senior officer uses to a junior. That's one concerned patron to another.

"Yes, a woman named Lady Marian is. She put up a notice to collect what goes wrong,"

He gestures to the notice board, maybe they should add their drinks to it.

"We should probably add what just happened to it. Do you think?"

She will if William will. She probably will even if he doesn't. Even small details matter.

"Yes, ma'am. Bar, could we have some paper?"

A little notepad appears shaped like an atomic cloud with a red pen beside it, "What's that meant to be?"

What an odd shape.

Oh dear, says one corner of Sariel's mind.

"I can't be sure," she says slowly, "but certain... explosions are known to create clouds in that shape. At least in my universe."

And maybe in some universes, nuclear weapons don't cause mushroom clouds. Bar could be referencing one of those. ... That still doesn't make Sariel any less unnerved by the notepad's shape, not to mention the color of that pen in combination.

"Should we ask for another one then? Don't need to get thinkin' about explosions along with everythin' else,"

That might just make things worse.

I almost worry what the next one might look like, if we ask for another." That's a little wryly amused, a little self-depricating. It's also honest.

In the end, Sariel reaches for that red pen, though she's stoppable if William's of a mind to try.

"Yeah, I don't think I've got any paper on me except one of my novels. Let's use that instead,"

He pulls from his jacket pocket a dime novel and carefully rips off the back cover.

Sariel looks briefly scandalized - destruction of a book, paper or otherwise, doesn't sit particularly well with her. She lets it pass, though, and hands William that pen instead.

You first? Not that she says as much, but it's plain by the offer.

The paper's cheap and it's already fairly beat up no matter how much he tries to keep it safe. He looks down at the paper and carefully in an old fashioned hand writes out,

Dear Lady Marian, Drinks are not being what they're supposed to be.

It seems like maybe a good start but he looks over to Sariel for her opinion.

"May I?" Sariel holds out a hand in a request for that pen, though if William isn't finished, she won't stop him continuing to write. She does glance at his message so far, but if she finds any fault with it (she doesn't know what his education has been up to now) she doesn't comment.

"Of course, ma'am," He hands her the pen and shifts the paper over for her.

Yes, it's still a little unusual in Sariel's view for anyone to be calling her ma'am. She knows it's likely out of politeness rather than rank hierarchy, but she's junior enough in her world that it's still a little surprising to hear it said. Not that William can know this. He gets a small smile in thanks as she accepts that pen.

It only occurs to her as she's preparing to write that she isn't entirely sure of William's last name.

Lady Marian,
Both myself and one other patron have received not entirely accurate orders from Bar today. (After a moment's thought and a careful glance across the room at a convenient calendar, the date in Bar time is added.)
Ensign Sariel Rager

She stops herself just short of adding her ship's name to the end of that signature.

"Should I sign it too? You've said it all nice and clear, official,"

Though it makes him think of his father and he looks around, if something happens to Milliways, his father will truly be gone.

"That's probably a good idea. If you want to." Sariel agrees. It's clear enough, by the way she says it, that it's up to William whether or not he does sign. That pen's being held out to him again, anyhow.

"I'm used to being more official," she admits. "When I'm writing reports for senior officers."

"In case they want to ask us questions, yeah," He takes the pen and signs William Evans.

"Or in case our specific information is helpful, somehow."

She doesn't sound entirely certain it will be, but all the same. Report what needs reporting.

Do the right thing.

Every little bit helps. At least, she tends to think so.

((OOC: Fade? <3 this thread!))

(OOC: Yes, thank you.)

He nods and goes with her to attach the note before going outside to check the horses once more.

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