first entrance.

[singsometimes]

So, life has finally started to resemble something that might be referred to as 'normal'. At least ... it's something normal-like, according to Miss Jessica Day. Mizz Day. Jess. The Jess-ster.

It can be noted that Jess is pretty much used to things never really going the way they should, or the way she wishes they could in her head.

(Like the whole thing with her ex, Spencer; and her spontaneously moving in with a bunch of guys - who are honestly the best, so really, no regrets there - because she couldn't stand living with a bunch of models anymore.)

But people are often singing out their feelings in these situations in her head. Sometimes, there's even a random dance number. So maybe it's best that they don't really go the way they do in her head.

In any case, she's standing in the doorway with a slightly rumpled, but still brightly coloured solar system diorama in her arms, eying the new locale with a fair amount of confusion, skepticism and disbelief on her face. Her large-framed glasses slide down her nose.

That is when Saturn decides to come loose from its string, the spray-painted orange and brown foam ball bouncing to the ground and rolling off towards a table.

"Oo-kay. I'm pretty sure this ... isn't supposed to be here."


tiny!tag: jess day, danny williams, darius

[ooc: Aaaaand I'm off for the night! But h'omg this was the best. I'll be tagging all slowtimes and such tomorrow!]

Comments

[haole_cop]

"That would be hugely irresponsible of you."

She's cute and quick on the draw, and that's more than enough to make this whole crazy thing seems a whole lot easier to deal with, which is nice. Sure, he's on edge and feeling more than a little disoriented, but having another person there means he's got someone to focus on, and that helps even more.

He levels a finger at the bar.

"I say we start over there. Looks promising, wouldn't you say?"

[singsometimes]

"Uh huh."

She's pretty sure her diorama can be left unattended for a while. It's not quite trashy enough to be confused for garbage, and it's not polished enough that someone might think they could steal it and profit from it.

Yep.

She's good.

"Let's go explore this new frontier! I wish I had my exploration hat right now."

She may or may not be joking about this.

[haole_cop]

"Hat?"

He leans back a little to look at her again, as if he thinks she might have changed without him noticing. "Good thing you don't. Not that I have anything against hats in general, but I think I might get, you know, jealous. Not having a hat."

They look sort of funny on him, and he tends to avoid them in general, but he likes the idea of hats, in general.

He was a kid once, he's seen Indiana Jones. He knows how the whole 'fedora of exploration' thing works.

"On the other hand, I bet it's worth seeing. Okay. Right this way." Because he's got manners, he gestures for her to take the lead, regardless of the fact that he'll end up walking next to her.

Actually, it's kind of an anticlimactic journey to the bar, and he turns when they get there, squinting across the room.

"You know, I would have put money on some black hole opening up and sucking me back into the office just as I got here," he tells her, leaning his free hand on the bartop. "But this place is persistent in its grip on reality, isn't it?"

[singsometimes]

She turns, too, fingers brushing along the edge of the mahogany tabletop, thoughtful.

"Well, I definitely think it's got the whole 'my reality is more pressing than yours right now, so just come in and hang out. Maybe have a drink' attitude down, as far as I can see," she says, eyes going towards the general population of the bar.

Most of them look so ... relaxed. Like they've been coming here for years.

"There are doors, too. Maybe this place doesn't have to throw you up. Maybe you just ... walk in and out -"

She is about to continue when a small square-ish napkin appears by Danny's hand, a line or two of black scribbled handwriting on it.

[haole_cop]

"Believe me, I'm happy to go along with this reality as long as it lasts."

It beats paperwork, that's for sure. Not that he minds cleaning up Steve's paper trail: the guy gets things done when they need them done, and that's good enough for Danny.

Besides, it's not exactly one of his strong points.

Either way, he's watching Jess as she explains her theory, until those wide eyes of hers turn down to the bar, and he turns, too, frowning as he reaches for the paper.

"Was this here before?" He glances at Jess, lifting the napkin, but his eyes are caught by the text there, and his eyebrows ratchet up further as he reads, turning to the side so she can look, too.

WE USE DOORS HERE it says, in friendly, neat printing. WELCOME TO MILLIWAYS. MAY I TAKE YOUR ORDER?

"Uh..."

He looks to one end of the bar, then the other, peering around Jess to try and find a tender. "Sure. I mean, yeah, of course. I just don't see...who am I supposed to order from?"

This time, he actually sees the napkin appear.

[singsometimes]

Jess intakes a sharp breath.

It's just a little surprising, that's all, these napkins literally materializing out of the woodwork.

Okay, Jess. You can do this. Don't be freaked out.

It's just ...

Just ... well, what is it?

She hesitates before she reaches for the next napkin.

"'Me'," she reads aloud, before glancing from napkin to Danny with a frown drawing her eyebrows closer together. "Me, who?"

[haole_cop]

Danny peers at the napkin, frowning harder.

"'Me'?" When he looks up at her, he's got no answers, shakes his head as he ducks to examine the bartop, knocking along the gleaming mahogany without finding any traps or sliding panels.

"Where did that come from? It's like the bar is...but that's stupid, right?"

Straightening, he half-turns to her, gesturing with the hand not on the wood.

"I mean, I can't just tell the bar I want a beer, right? That's, that's..."

He looks down at the newest napkin that's appeared.

"...Insanity. Uh, I don't mean to alarm you, but this one says: 'What kind?'"

[singsometimes]

Jess blinks.

There may be a fair amount of mental keyboard smashing going on in her head right now.

This is so weird, and just verging on the edge of scary. But ... on the flip-side, it's kind of cool.

She glances from the Bar to Danny then to the Bar again, gathering her thoughts and thinking on the positive.

(Because the other option would be to run away screaming, and Jess is really trying not to be that person.)

"Omygod, it's like my childhood dreams are suddenly coming true. Only it's like ... twenty years later. But it's never too late, I guess, to believe in magic."

Because that's the only explanation, right? Magic? Wizardly hocus pocus, and Diana Wynne Jones books come-to-life?

"Ask it," Jess urges him. "Let's just ... see what happens."

[haole_cop]

"You think I should ask the bar for a beer?"

He looks over at her with uncertainty bordering on skepticism, forehead wrinkling before he shrugs and turns back to the bar, hands running along its surface. "I mean, why not, right? May as well try it. If it can produce notes, there's no reason why it can't create a beer out of thin air, right?"

His fingers drum against the glossy wood.

"All right, I'll bite. Give me a...Flying Fish. Hopfish IPA."

It's the first thing he can think of that can't possibly be found in Hawaii, so would have to prove that this is someplace else, but no one's more surprised than he is when the damn bottle actually appears.

Well, maybe Jess. But he's got to be on at least the same level of surprised.

[singsometimes]

He is!

She just stares at the perfect bottle, condensation gently frosting the glass, while a bead or two of it runs down. It could almost be a commercial.

After a moment of wide-eyed surprise, and possibly a little gaping, Jess snaps out of it, chirps her delight, and claps her hands together.

"Oh, wow," she remarks. "I have no words right now."

[haole_cop]

Words.

Right.

Words are something he always has. Words are the sea in which he swims, the air he breathes, the one thing he can always grasp when everything around him is splintering into tiny little pieces of shrapnel. Words are what he uses to keep his sanity in check when Steve starts doing things like throwing suspects in shark cages.

...Although, to be fair, he had also had a fairly sincere conversation with Danny that same day, so who knows?

Anyway, this is beside the point. The point is that Jess has said that she has no words, so it's up to Danny to step up and do what he does best -- talk -- but he's kind of finding it a little difficult, too.

"A-hrm," he says, instead, clearing his throat, like he thinks that will help. It doesn't, but he shifts to his other foot, holds up his hands so they frame his face, fingers spread, and move them forward, twin shark fins slicing through air, like by delineating lines, he can define just what exactly is going on, here.

It doesn't really work, but that's never stopped him trying.

"So, the bar just gave me a beer. That's clear enough. I, ah..."

Turning, he squints at her. "I can't say I really know what to do with that. I guess, logically, I would drink it, right?"

[singsometimes]

"Um. Yeah.



"Logically."

She glances once more at the Bar, at the beer, at Danny. And then she shakes her head.

"Definitely drink it," she decides helpfully. "And while you're having that ... hey, uh. Is it possible that I could have a glass of pink wine, please?"

She directs that last bit to the mahogany tabletop.

Amazingly - astoundingly! - it obliges.

Jess may or may not have just squeaked. Excitedly.