(no subject)

[changeinasnap]

" -- You're still here!"

Somebody seems pretty damn surprised and delighted by this fact, because somebody hightailed it for greener, non-Allpocalypse-y pastures as soon as he thought the bar was going to disintegrate. Beaming, he elbows open the door the rest of the way, slams it behind him, and saunters over to the bar.

"It is very good to see you again, sweetheart," he says as he hops onto a vacant stool, resting gentle fingers on the bartop. "My usual?"

Pop. A milkshake that's more whipped cream than shake materializes.

"Good to see you're not under the weather anymore, too. Thanks," he says, still grinning, and takes a long (and very loud) slurp.



[tinytag: Aphrodite, Boyd Crowder]

Comments

[morethanprops]

(OOC: For great slowtime?)

Moist is rather tired and still hasn't found a way to easily escape the notice being given him on his side of the door.

When he hears the rather loud slurp, he winces and takes another sip of his whiskey as he goes over ways out.

He's rather more rumpled than he'd like to be but not messy.

[changeinasnap]

[Works for me!]

A wince may as well be a siren's call. Especially when it's somebody he's had his eye on for a while.

"Alfie!" The beaming persists, but takes on a sharper edge. "It's okay if I call you Alfie, right? Long time no see."

[morethanprops]

"I've been called worse and yes, it's been a while,"

He takes another sip of his drink, he doesn't remember anything good about this man, but manages a sort of polite smile.

[changeinasnap]

"You make it through the end of the world okay?"

Cheerful.

"No scuffs, bruises, missing limbs...?"

[morethanprops]

"I wasn't here for the worst of it,"

Though he did get his lovers' blood splattered over him and see his body eaten by hellhounds, but its best to not think on that.

[changeinasnap]

"Lucky you."

Pity.

He sets down his glass and leans closer. "I heard it was just awful. Mass casualties. Bar ripped apart at the seams. Hard to believe anybody could survive a thing like that."

[morethanprops]

"I try to let people who know about dealing with the end of the world think about those sorts of issues. Wizards and Heroes, I'm just a businessman,"

He goes slightly pale but that's the only sign he's bothered.

[changeinasnap]

"Oh, yeah, absolutely." He props his chin in one hand. "It'd be the only sensible thing to do, right?"

A smile.

"But, you know. Funny thing about worlds ending? All that death and mayhem -- it doesn't care. It doesn't discriminate. Businessmen and heroes both get dead."

[morethanprops]

"They do, yes, anyone who gets caught,"

This isn't what he needs when there's the threat of hanging or tarring and feathering awaiting him outside the door. Yet he knows that he won't easily find a way out of this conversation but he does have a drink.

[callipygos]

A very blonde goddess in a very short skirt is sitting down the bar.

Her own beverage is colorful, but nowhere near as confectionary.

"That," she says.

"Looks positively sinful."

[changeinasnap]

....Oh, hello there.

It's not often that he finds himself lost for words, but -- to his credit -- he recovers with nary a misstep. "Bar's got a knack for it," he says. "Even the inanimate plank of wood's gotta have some fun."

[callipygos]

She laughs.

"I'd say she does a pretty good job, all things considered." Her fingers brush the countertop for a moment before they slide back up the stem of her glass. "Bar's my kind of girl."

[changeinasnap]

"Yeah?"

Appreciative, his eyes track the path of her fingertips before rising back to her face. "I'm sure the fun you get up to is lots better. No offense, sweetheart," he adds to Bar, giving her a pat.

[callipygos]

"Well. Different," Aphrodite decides magnanimously, lifting her glass.

"Though people seem to like it."

[changeinasnap]

"I can imagine."

His smile grows; he sets his drink aside, leaning down the bar to offer a hand.

"Name's Loki."

[callipygos]

"Is it?" she says.

"Well gosh."

Smiling sweetly back at him, Aphrodite takes his hand.

"Aphrodite. I've heard stories."

[changeinasnap]

"Really."

Having his reputation precede him: never a bad thing!

(Well, as long as it's one very specific reputation.)

"That makes both of us. And may I say, my dear," he says, as he lifts her hand to press a quick kiss to its back, "it's a very great honor to finally meet you."

[fireinthehole]

A very loud slurp, indeed.

It warrants a glance from Boyd Crowder, sitting around the corner from the bartop, but he elects not to remark; Boyd's got no business offering critique of a stranger's vices.

...unless he feels like it. But it's not a battle he cares to pick at the moment.

[changeinasnap]

The fun thing about not needing oxygen? You can draw out a slurp as long as you like.

It's going on a good thirty seconds before he plonks the glass back down and leans over to earnestly address Bar further. "So how've you been?" he asks her. "Getting enough R&R after the big meltdown? You ever need some extra time off, grab me for a shift whenever you want."

A napkin appears.

"...No I'm not going to turn anybody else into an owl. Well," he amends, "unless they deserve it too."

Another napkin. He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Just because I like you so much."

[fireinthehole]

Slurping is something he and Bowman used to do at their grandmother's table -- and tried to blame it on each other. They weren't this good at it, though.

(Funny how one man's 'good' is another man's 'nails on a chalkboard.')

Boyd maintains his poker face through turn anybody else into an owl; the napkins are what gives him pause.

"Pardon," he says, casual. "Is that inanimate object talking back?"

[changeinasnap]

He looks up, lifts his eyebrows, spreads his hands.

"Just 'cause she can't move doesn't mean she can't talk," he says. "Of course she is."

He doesn't talk to himself that much.

With a flick of the wrist, he sends the napkins skidding down the bartop toward Boyd.

[fireinthehole]

"And why would she -- " There's just a little emphasis on the pronoun. " -- do that?"

Boyd reaches out with fingers that show recent signs of hard scrubbing and tugs the napkins closer.

[changeinasnap]

"Why not?" Comfortable. "Would you wanna be sentient and stuck someplace you couldn't talk to anybody?"

He takes another gulp of milkshake, with a bit less slurping this time.

[fireinthehole]

Boyd scans the napkins, and pushes them to one side.

"First I've heard that we got a sentient inanimate object."

[changeinasnap]

"Yeah?" Another quirk of the eyebrow. "Just how new are you?"