(no subject)

[missmarybennet]

Mary Bennet’s specials board goes up right on time in neat copperplate:

Tea
Rum
Orange Juice

Orange juice, Mary has decided, is what liquid sunshine must taste like. She has a large glass close to her own elbow at the moment.

She also has a large book that she found up in the Milliways library: The Encyclopedia of Osteological Injuries and Treatments. She’s thumbing through it while she waits for customers. The information is interesting, but not nearly as much as the big, glossy, full-color pictures of human bones in various states of breakage (accompanied by badly abused flesh). Mary is staring at them with a combination of nausea and fascination.

Distract the bartender to place your orders.

Comments

[not_his_pa]

William's elbow is still sore from when he got run into some scrub and he looks over Mary's specials.

Today's been long, "Could I get some coffee with some whiskey in it, Miss Bennet?"

[missmarybennet]

Mary looks up from her book and straightens, hands automatically smoothing her apron neatly before she reaches under the Bar for a mug.

"Of course you may, Mr. Evans."

She pours the coffee from the pot brewing behind her and brings it to the bar along with a bottle of whiskey. She dumps in a dollop and looks a question at William to see if it's enough.

"How are you today?"

[not_his_pa]

The book is rather hard to miss and he tries to see what one of the images is,

"Thanks, doin' alright. What's that book?"

[missmarybennet]

"A medical text of some sort. I found it in the library."

Mary hands the mug over to him.

"Do you know that in the future, they can open you up and and put your bone together with metal nails to hold it all in place?"

Mary isn't certain if the cure isn't worse than the disease in that case.

[not_his_pa]

"My Pa's leg was wood and the new one I found for him is metal and other stuff I've never seen. Metal don't sound that odd."

[missmarybennet]

"I've seen wooden legs. And I suppose that metal wouldn't be that unusual."

If much heavier.

"But...nails. Screwed into your bones."

Revolting, yet amazing.

"I didn't know your father had a false leg."

[not_his_pa]

William winces as he takes a long sip of his coffee and almost burns his mouth as he thinks on that image,

"He lost his leg in the war."

[no_martyr]

"I'll have some tea, please."
This from a teenage boy a few years younger than Mary, wearing... well, even if she's not terribly familiar with robes as a fashion statement, his is clearly made from quality material. For all that, he's wearing it like it's an everyday garment.

[missmarybennet]

It's far from the strangest outfit she's seen sported here in Milliways.

"Of course," Mary replies, leaving her book, smoothing her apron, and beginning to assemble the proper tools to make tea.

Tea pot. Cup. Saucer. Spoon. Tea leaves. Strainer. Cream pitcher. Sugar bowl.

And, most importantly, the electrically powered 'hot pot' full of boiling water.

"I'd never seen anything of this sort before Milliways," she says, attempting to make casual conversation, as the bartenders seem to do here. She pours the water into the tea pot. "It certainly does make the process quite efficient."

[no_martyr]

"What does it do?"
Regulus can't say he's seen anything of the sort before, either. So long as he's here, he might as well use it as a learning experience.
(On the whole, it's probably more reliable than Muggle Studies.)

[missmarybennet]

"You put the end of its cord into the wall, push a lever, and it boils the water. In minutes. Just sitting on the counter."

You don't even need fire.

"We don't have anything of this sort in my world. Or electricity, for that matter."

[no_martyr]

"Ah," he says, nodding. "Rather like a heating charm. My world... I suppose we do have things of that sort, and electricity, but I've grown up without them."
As the mention of charms may indicate.
"May I ask what year it is for you?"

[missmarybennet]

"It's 1797. Late November," Mary replies. "And I'm from Hertfordshire, England."

Since the questions of 'when' and 'where' usually travel together.

Mary pours the tea through the strainer into the cup and passes it over.

"You must be from a world with magic," she adds. "I've met witches and wizards, here. They talk about charms and spells and the like."

[lady_mary]

A young woman enters the bar, looking slightly surprised to be there. Her elegant clothing—a beaded black lace dress, black kid gloves, and matching black jewelry—and hairstyle suggest a more formal engagement than an evening in the bar at the end of the universe.

Lady Mary approaches the bar, quickly taking in the simple list of specials and the bartender reading a book nearby.

"Hello! I'm sorry to interrupt your reading, but are you Michaelangelo? You certainly don't look like one."

[missmarybennet]

Mary looks up.

Then quickly straightens her posture, and tries to smooth down her apron.

Times and places may change, but a lady is sometimes very easy to recognize.

"No, ma'am. I fear I'm not," she replies, with a polite curtsy.

"I believe he's one of the other barmen, but I've not properly met him."

"May I assist you?"

[lady_mary]

"So the man remains an enigma."

At least a young, well-mannered young woman serving drinks is far less disconcerting than a magical bar.

"Lady Mary Crawley. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss..."

[missmarybennet]

"Miss Mary Bennet."

Mary adds a polite nod just for good measure.

"And yes, Lady Mary. I fear that many things about Milliways are quite determined to remain enigmatic."

[lady_mary]

"If it isn't too much trouble, I would appreciate a good cup of tea."

Lady Mary takes a seat on a bar stool and carefully removes her gloves.

"Where do you come here from, Miss Bennet?"

Based on her accent, Mary is fairly certain Miss Bennet is English, though, like her clothing, it strikes Mary as rather old-fashioned.


[ooc: Two Mary's sure make for confusing narration!]

[missmarybennet]

"Of course."

Mary begins to assemble the necessary equipment for making tea, and plugs in the electric kettle full of water.

"I'm from Hertfordshire," she says as she works. "My family owns land just outside of a village called Meryton."

Lady Mary is a fellow Englishwoman, too, Mary has no doubt at all. But Mary finds it's a bit harder to ask questions up the social ladder. (Especially while she's serving as the bartender.)

"It's the year 1797, there. Late November," she ventures to add. "Generally when people in Milliways inquire where you're from, the question of 'when' usually follows quickly."

She hopes Lady Mary will not find her attempt at efficiency impertinent.

[OOC: *laughs* Oh, my GOSH, just a bit!]

[cbucsrule]

Hey, he remembers her. From his first night in, she was leaving and he was waving a rifle around, being kind of an... well, he was new, what the frak else can he say about it. Everyone gets to be a rookie sometime, and that was his turn. For now he takes a seat at the bar, looks over at the book, automatically runs his hand over his collarbone where it was broken back on Gemenon, and shakes his head.

"Rough stuff, broken bones. It's Mary, right?" Mary something. Mary something with a B: at least he's good with first names.

At least there's that. He looks over at the specials board, wonders what would happen if he mixed all three of those ingredients together, but that sounds like such a godsdamn terrible idea that he doesn't take it any further. He'll get around to ordering in a minute.

[missmarybennet]

Mary looks up. It takes her a moment to place the man. But only a moment.

He had made something of an entrance.

"Mr. Anders. Hello," she replies. "Yes. Mary Bennet."

She glances down at her book and quickly closes it. The pictures are not at all appetizing, after all.

"Yes, I dare say they are. I was just...filling the time until customers arrive."

"I must say, you're looking considerably better."

[cbucsrule]

"Thanks, man, thanks. That first night, it was a hell of a thing to find myself here. Not what I'd been expecting." With a little laugh and an equally little shake of his head, he looks from her ("you're looking great yourself") to that specials board.

"How's the orange juice here?" Lately it's been ambrosia and ambrosia and oh, maybe a little more ambrosia. He wouldn't mind taking some time off from it, especially considering he's already just about made up for the three weeks out there where he wasn't drinking at all. That, and he's not with his favorite Viper pilot. Yeah, he'll save the ambrosia for another time.

"Better than the bone injury book? I gotta tell you, those are no fun. The actual breaks, not just the pictures in the books." Reading those pathology books is a hell of a way to pass the time, but to each his (or her) own.

[missmarybennet]

"If it makes you feel any better, when I first arrived here, I fainted. And then threatened several people with my sister's curling tongs."

Mary glances down at the book and tries very hard not to look embarrassed. Though she has no idea why she should feel embarrassed.

"A neighbor of ours recently came off his horse and broke his leg," she explains. "I suppose I was interested in learning more about the condition."

On to less awkward-feeling topics.

"I like the orange juice quite well, though I've nothing to compare to, really. Would you like a glass?"

[cbucsrule]

Actually, that... that does make him grin, so maybe it makes him feel better. Not that he was feeling bad. Nah, he thinks he's settled in pretty well, all things considered.

"How'd that go for you? The threatening people with a curling iron, I mean."

Probably not so great, but hey, people do whatever they can do with the resources at hand. That's a lesson he knows real well by now.

"And sure, I'll take a glass of juice. And promise not to talk broken bones with you any more. Unless you really want to."

He's easy. Soon everyone will know it.

[missmarybennet]

"I have no objection to discussing them, but I did fear a bit that patrons might find it off-putting."

If he has any tips on how to heal them faster, she'd be happy to listen.

Mary pulls out a tall tumbler and a cold glass pitcher of orange juice.

"I was rather too fearful to remember clearly," she says as she pours. "But I think at least some found it amusing. The curling iron."

"But the only thought I could formulate at the time was that I had been kidnapped into Fairyland, as irrational as I know that sounds. And fairies hate iron."

She passes over the glass of juice.