milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Some people fiddle while Rome burns.

Ava Wilson drinks coffee.

Fyarlbucks, to be precise-- with Bar kind of on the fritz, or so she hears, she thought it best to bring her own. Outside is a huge mess, so she's hanging out by the Observation Window, under a stable or at least stable-looking quadrant of roof, to info-gather while the gathering's good.

(Unrelated to current doom, her cami reveals a pink discoloration running around her shoulders, as if she has been recently lasso'd by Wonder Woman and it left a rope burn.

It's actually mostly healed. She's just kinda pale.)

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Ava follows his gaze, and scoots her chair a few inches to the left.

If hookers fall from the ceiling, she does not want them getting their herpes in her coffee.

"I guess you could always go up and ask," she says.

Man, it is such a shame they don't let you torture people around here. Can you not pay extra for that?

"I guess I'll do that, if they don't drop out of there on their own," Urquhart says. "When the world ends, you need to get laid! I think it's traditional!"

Ava sips her whiskey, unconvinced.

"Maybe you need to get laid," she says.

"My traditions would be more havoc. Less nudity."

"You'd rather break rule one than rule three, then?" Urquhart chuckles.

"Violence? Oh yeah. And outside business, really."

She once tried to kill Sam Winchester before she realized she was dead.

Does that count?

It probably counts as both.

"Yep, they have their advantages," Urquhart says. "But so does sex. Even sex in public places."

She rolls her eyes.

"I get it, I get it! Yay sex. Go team."

"We could set up a game where the side wins which breaks the rule most often before the apocalypse," Urquhart says, "but I don't know who could keep count, and after the apocalypse, we don't get to hear about who won. So it's a bit of a stupid game."

"Suuuuper fun though," Ava replies with a faint, speculative grin.

She sighs.

"Damn, dude, I don't want to never see this place again. It literally saved my afterlife."

"Yes, if the alternative is a job in hell?" Urquhart says. "You do need a place to take a breather."

She smiles, and doesn't add that the second alternative is a victimhood in hell.

She's pretty sure she'll kick ass and take names there eventually, anyway.

"Was that a pun?"

"I don't know?" Urquhart says. "Do you have the feeling that it was?"

"If I do, and if we're all going to die anyway, could I have my demon friends rip you to little pieces on the way out?"

Pleeeeease?

"If I'm dead enough, I won't mind," Urquhart says.

She points.

"I'm so gonna remember this later."

Urquhart laughs. "I'm so not going to mind, if I'm already dead as a doornail."

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