milliways_bar | Happy Hour, Cubefall Edition!

It's been a pleasant enough month. After all the hullabaloo of the Shindig cleared out, Kate took some time to herself to relax. She's been around, in and out of the stables as usual, but mostly sticking to the libraries and her room.

She's pleased when she comes downstairs and gets a reminder of just what the date is.

The familiar screen pops up:

Hello! Welcome to Milliways. Today, Milliways marks the Cybertronian holiday of Cubefall, the anniversary of the day upon which the Allspark first landed on the rocky world that would become Cybertron. Would you like to sample some possible reconfigurations? (y/n)

Kate grins, taking some time to pore over the choices. The robot is a little unsettling; the horse is tempting. She was a fella two years back for the holiday, and she actually quite enjoyed the experience. Folk always like to compare what a woman can do to what a man can do. Getting some actual idea of what the differences really are...

She chews on her lip, and hits the series of buttons it takes to reconfigure her. Hell if she won't have some more fun with this.

When it's done, a napkin pops up on the Bar.

"Y'jus' like askin' me when I'm tall 'nough t'reach the shelves, don't you?" 'he' grumbles, not without amusement.

He leaps over the counter spryly, and quickly scribbles up a few specials.

Happy Hour Specials:

Robot Cocktail
Fluffy Duck
Gender Bender Shooter
Bourbon
Ice Cream
Bourbon Ice Cream

Build something for half off your drink, and an extra shot of good luck.

"Bar's open! Yeehaw."

[ooc: Open until the next Happy Hour post, or until it scrolls off the front page. All are welcome, threadhopping is encouraged, zaniness is practically required. Have fun! ^__^]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maybe she'll see it before she feels it. He don't know, what with that hat angled the way it is, hiding what he doesn't have to see to know is there. He runs his finger along the curve of her hand, in that sensitive spot where her forefinger meets her thumb. His fingers are impossibly large compared to what he's used to, but the same steel-calloused skin, the same tenderness and roughness all mixed up in one.

He's looking at her when she raises her chin, his posture just the same; he has to wrinkle his brow and look up through his lashes to see her. That boyishness is still there, but with the deep furrow and the concerned eyes he looks devastatingly sincere.

"That's a helluva thing t'say yes or no to."

He's whispering, voice like hot buttered rum and gingerbread. Was it worth the one kiss, Sam dying and 'Miss Katherine Barlow' along with him? No. Would he take a single moment back? No.

It's just that life isn't fair.

Well, hell: the way he's looking up at her, he's like a gunshy colt, or like a boy tryin to figure out how the hell being a man work -- the kind of uncertain, skittish creature Jack's always felt a certain amount of kinship for.

Those blue eyes are damn near magnetic, and she feels her hair slip over her shoulder as she leans closer, goosebumps skittering up the skin of her arm at the touch of callused fingers against hers.

That tan, that blonde hair, that smile that's so molasses-sweet and shy, his big hands and broad shoulders, the way hos voice goes low and secret, like there's nobody else in the whole damn room--

Fuck, it's enough to make a girl's blood run hot and cold and boil again, even if what they're talking over are the tragedies of life. "Ain't lookin for an answer," she says. "I couldn't say, myself. Some days I think, hell, I'd do it all over again. Other times, it's all: what the fuck are you thinkin, Jack Twist? You shoulda kept the fuck to yourself and let well enough alone."

But she knows she never could, because Ennis, fuck. He's no sin, and he's no savior, and Jack knows she's going to hell for the things she's done, but those moments up on Brokeback...she'd give anything just for one of them back.

Under the shade of her brim, her eyes are blue as a mountain pond, blue like forget-me-nots or the deep arch of the summer sky, and her smile's sweet, if wry.

"Could be this bourbon's goin to my head."

Could be.

Could be Kate should feel guilty letting her talk about her secrets when he's been feeding her glass after glass. But it ain't the secrets that pull him up short, one hard blink of those thick lashes turning deep concern to surprise.

"Jack Twist?"

Just like that, someone's struck a match in the catacombs of his mind, and it all becomes so much clearer. Those cornflower eyes, the swagger that somehow manages to stay shy, dark hair and easy smiles. Kate breathes a laugh, eyes crinkling, and with this sudden sense of familiarity he slips his hand inside hers and gives it a proper squeeze.

"Now I really would hate t'see your pretty face lined with guilt."

That grin turns crooked, the kind of smile that maybe seems a little off-kilter on her current delicate features but would fit just right on the mug of the cowboy more familiar to the bar at large.

"Shit. Yep, that's me."

She might be about five inches shorter and maybe fifty pounds lighter, but there's something of Jack's twinkle in her eyes and her cheeks dimple with her smile just like they always do when she smiles wide, like she's doing now.

"Why? We know each other?"

Oh, hell. If anything, Kate's grin turns broader — and laced with wicked intent.

"Sorta. Guess y'could say we're acquainted."

He winks, and pushes the brim of his hat.

"As I recall, you're a mighty fine dancer."

"I'm a..."

Nobody's ever accused Jack of being quick on the uptake, but even with her head getting fuzzy with bourbon, she can put two and two together and get something approximating four.

"Shit." She ducks her head again, but this time her slim shoulders shake with laughter. "Shit. And listen to me, swearin like a roughneck, talkin to a lady. But it ain't Miss Barlow, is it?"

Now that she's looking at him, though, there's that smile that flashes like the first gleam of sunrise, and there's those blue eyes that crease in just the same way, and while Kate's hair was smooth and pretty that day at the shindig and this fella's is tousled and short, it's the same shade of hay-gold.

"Well, fuck me." Her cheeks stain and she laughs, shaking her head. "There I go again. Beg your pardon."

Kate snickers in earnest, going a little redder each time she cusses. It's hard to say if he's scandalized, or just reacting to hearing a lady talk with such a filthy mouth. Either way, he's laughing, and shaking his head.

"You're awlright, sweetheart. Ayup, I do believe you've got me."

His intent wasn't to trick or embarrass. Well, all right, his intent was to trick. Sort of a social experiment, you see? But he'd sure feel funny if Jack went away feeling awkward about this whole affair.

"An' here I thought I made a piss-poor fella. You make one helluva lady, though, Mr. Twist."

Leaning forward, Jack half-closes one eyes in a lazy sort of wink, reaches up to tip up her hat like she's trying to get a better view of the fella in front of her.

Well, who could blame her? It's a fuck of a nice thing to see.

"Coulda fooled me," she drawls, the tip of her tongue running along the inside of her teeth as she grins again. "You make a fine cowboy, Mz Barlow. But, well, hell. It sure makes this thing feel a little weirder knowin who's behind the new faces, don't it?"

For her, anyhow, and not least because she hasn't exactly been restraining herself.

In more ways than one.

But her eyes are laughing and twinkling like this is all the world's best joke, and in a way, in kind of is.

"Well, what d'you say? Care to split a dish of that ice cream with a rodeo cowboy? I got kind of a sweet tooth, and seems to me that'd be just the thing."

There she goes again. It's like it just falls right out of her mouth, but then, Jack's always had trouble with keeping herself quiet when she ought to.

The way she keeps closing the distance between them makes his blood run hot. It's bizarre, the way body heat and the scent of her make this cocktail he never noticed before; now he can't help but react, shifting, clearing his throat, smile stuck in place like it just don't know how to let go.

"Does it? Why, y'think I'm gonna tell on you?"

He smiles lazily, slipping right on back into that careless charm. His long limbs are relaxed, body slouched over the Bar like he can't get close enough and isn't even trying all at once. Hell, he wouldn't tell. Wouldn't judge, neither. A woman can't help the magic of this place.

Chuckling, he pushes himself back, and tips his hat.

"Ma'am, it would be my pleasure."

And not just so's he can watch her lick ice cream from the corner of her mouth. They've got bad memories, and regrets; broken bones, and scars. Could be, tonight, she's just the sort of company Kate would like to keep close.

Might as well build some good memories.

Happy Hour, Cubefall Edition!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject