milliways_bar | (no subject)

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OOM: This is something she really can't handle before coffee.

"--is no way there is a bar in the backyard, Emma. Are you sure you haven't been spending too much time with Hen--"

The voice had drifted closer and closer until a young woman, with short black hair, appeared in the doorway, looking from over her shoulder to the wide expanse of the room in front of her.

"Emma," Mary Margaret hissed. A completely failed stage whisper. "There's a bar in my backyard."

[Two pups, two muns. One semi-new, one brand new.
Tiny Tags: Emma Swan, Mary Margaret Blanchard]

Sadly, we must call slows for sleep after this last round of tags. We might be back for an hour tomorrow night, but definitely on Wednesday night to pick right up where we left off. Thank you, one and all, for your very Once Upon A Warm Welcome. This night has been full of magic and delight.

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Mary Margaret will just be watching. Over here. Behind Emma. Only slightly. Maybe not slightly enough. She is leaning to the side to look at the person asking the question, too.

It takes a moment for Thirteen to realize that the blonde isn't exactly who she thinks she is, especially with the other using not!Cameron as a human shield. She gives a chagrined, and hopefully calming smile before addressing the pair.

"Yes. Sorry, you just look a lot like someone I know from back home. Turns out Milliways is just being strange again."

"Oh. Uh, no problem. I get the feeling that happens a lot here."

She becomes aware of the person behind her, and glances over her shoulder at Mary Margaret.

"I don't think anyone here bites, Mary Margaret."

Mary Margaret ducked her head, even as she stepped well outside of Emma Shield range then. Which put her further into the big room. So. Uh. Yes. Not hiding. Not giving into her cheeks turning pink. Not. Not. Not. She cross her arms over her middle.

So. Uh. "Things are strange here often?"

"It's pretty much the calling card of this place," she says. "And you're friend's right; about the biting I mean. You definitely need to buy me a drink first, for that to happen."

She's teasing, of course. Mostly. But...

"Though you may want to stay indoors when there's a full moon out there."

"I hope you're kidding."

But, seriously, she's only been here twice and she's already starting to believe that might be true.

"You a regular, or something?"

Mary Margaret might have shifted and flustered a little bit more even. It's a good question though and she looks at the woman waiting for the answer.

Edited 2012-03-20 02:01 (UTC)

"A regular and resident, really," she confirms, smiling just a little at Mary Margaret's fluster. "Though I'm serious about the full moon thing. I've never met any here myself, but there are some patrons here who are werewolves."

"I'm assuming you two are new?"

"Oh," says Emma, a little blankly. "...Okay, then."

She gives the other woman a wry grin.

"What gave it away? The complete lack of knowing anything about this place, or the faint aura of panic?"

"Both," Margaret answered for the woman, still shifting her feet a little awkwardly. "It probably shows like someone put a sign right about us?"

At least she was really rather used to feeling awkwardly out of place?

"Feeling lost and panicked here is sort of a right of passage here," Thirteen says with a chuckle. Underneath her table, she lifts a leg to nudge out one of the chairs with her foot.

"Have a seat, I'll buy you two a drink and answer any questions you have. I'm guessing no one's told you the rules, then?"

"Hey, thanks."

Emma strides forward, pulls out one chair and gives Mary Margaret a nod towards it before taking one herself.

"I got the rundown, but Mary Margaret's brand new."

Chairs are good. So are friendly faces.

"There are rules to places that take over your house?"

"You'll have your room back when you leave, don't worry."

Beat.

"Basically, there are three rules. The first is that there's no violence allowed in the Bar; if you have to fight with someone, take it outside. Secondly, no nudity in the Bar proper, or anything that comes with that state of undress; there are rooms upstairs for that. And lastly, no outside grudges allowed here. Your worst enemy can show up here, and either of you are allowed to start anything, this is neutral ground."

She's heard this before, so she's only half-listening as the other woman tells Mary Margaret the rules. The other half of her brain is occupied in glancing around the room, fingers tapping idly on the tabletop, though the words neutral ground catch her attention.

It's not like she didn't know that before, but putting it that way...it sticks somewhere in her brain and clings there, unobtrusive.

"Pretty straightforward, right, Mary Margaret?"

"General rules for how to act like a decent adult," She nodded. That was common sense, wasn't it?

Except for tasteless doctor's she dated, who couldn't care less? There had to be better people out there. But Storybrooke was a really close knit group of people.

And, if David's face, over his wife's shoulder, came back just then. She could squash it back out just as fast as it came, too. All of the decent ones were taken.

"Pretty much," she laughs. "Though you know, there's always somebody that needs to be told."

She takes a moment to lean back in her chair, waving down one of the waitrats.

"Now, I believe I promised you two a drink."

"I feel like this place requires it," Emma mutters, leaning back in her own chair and rocking it on its legs before letting it fall back with a clump to the floor.

"Beer works for me. What's your name, anyway?"

Mary Margaret will leave that for the other woman. Names would be good at this point. Order works here.

"Remy Hadley, or Thirteen; I answer to either, really. How about you two, then?"

"Emma Swan." She tips her chin up in a questioning look.

"What's with the number?"

"Mary Margaret." Who hasn't had a nickname in her life.

"Nice to meet the two of you," she says easily. "As for the number, it's just a nickname that stuck when I started working at the hospital."

It's about then, that one of the waitstaff shows up with a squeak, and she puts in an order for two beers.

"And how about you, Mary Margret?"

Emma nods, then leans forward, making an interested frown.

"Doctor, huh?"

Glancing at Mary Margaret, she lifts her eyebrows. "They've got pretty good hot chocolate here."

It's a suggestion, at least.

"That'd be fine," she nodded. She trusted Emma's judgement implicitly. Even for only meeting her days ago.

"With cinnamon, please?"

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