milliways_bar | (no subject)

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kate barlow

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A few cuts? A couple of bruises? An unknown place - of which is infested with very large rodents?

Gwaine has been in worst predicaments and places before.

Destiny can be a bit funny like that.

Besides. This place looks enough like a tavern and all taverns have mead, right?

So Gwaine - the man in a patchwork of leathers and linens with a sword strapped at his belt and who looks the sort in need of a drink - merely pushes a hand through his hair and limps his way to the counter.

He'll be having a few rounds.

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There's a cowgirl at the Bar, forsaking her usual prim posture. She's watching the room, elbows propped on the counter, ankles crossed.

It allows a real good view of the latest patron as he hobbles up.

"You all right, sugar?"

Gwaine offers the lady a wink as he leans against the counter.

"Always am, luv.

"I might even dance, after a tankard."

Which Bar helpfully provides in the moment.

" - Now there's a bit of good magic."

Her expression flattens slightly, though she's decidedly smirking at him now.

Sport.

"I'd like t'see that."

She might even help you back up when you fall on your rump, sir.

"You ain't familiar with Miss Bar?"

Gwaine strokes a hand along the counter. He's got some bruising and cuts about his knuckles, the rest of the hand wrapped in a worn, finger-less glove of leather.

"Oh, I think I'd remember her if I had."

Possibly.

He does drink a lot of mead.

"You're new, then?"

She turns to face him, her amusement only growing. His wounds look superficial, if plentiful, so he's not in any danger of dying straight away. Still —

"There's an infirmary down that hall there. An' this, sir, is Miss Bar. Welcome t'Milliways."

"I think I'm in love."

With Bar? With Milliways? With the blonde-haired woman next to him?

Who knows, really.

Gwaine takes the woman's hand in his own.

"And in your debt for the introduction."

She arches an eyebrow.

"I'd be careful throwin' around debt jus' yet. Y'haven't heard the half of it."

Smiling serenely, she doesn't say he best be careful throwing around 'love' as well — though she's thinking it.

"I'm Miss Kate Barlow."

Gwaine grins.

It's a charming, pretty grin. If only a little rough around the edges, too.

"To that I'd say, I'm twice in your debt then."

He offers her a bow. And a kiss to the hand.

"Miss Kate Barlow.

"I'm Gwaine."

Her face turns a touch rosy.

"S'a pleasure t'make your acquaintance, sir."

She even drops in a shallow curtsy, though it looks awkward in trousers rather than skirts.

"I take it there's magic in your world? That'll make this place seem less odd. Y'see, Milliways is a bar at the end of the universe. Folk from all different times an' places show up here."

"Ah."

If this is some sort of magic, it's a magic Gwaine doesn't know.

" - I think I'll think of her as another stop in the woods," he says with another wink.

(He likes to wink.)

She arches her eyebrows.

(It isn't because of the wink, though she's quickly taking notice.)

She's seen a number of people come and go, and all with different reactions to the place. Shock and confusion are the most common. Happy denial, however, might make Gwaine special.

"You're welcome t'your impressions," she chuckles. "Y'might find it takes some gettin' used to here. Where are y'from?"

Gwaine chuckles.

"Ask that a lot, do you?"

It seems almost silly to. Being anyone could be from anywhere and say whatever they want.

But he's got nothing to hide. Not really.

"From Albion, luv. She's called Albion, our little island."

"It's polite conversation."

She smiles serenely.

She's pretty good at noticing when folk are lying to her; either way, she learns something about them.

She turns around, asking Miss Bar for a bottle of strong hooch and a cloth.

"Albion? S'that part'a England?"

Well. Albion is Great Britain? Or will be.

But being as Gwaine doesn't know such -

"Can't say that we are, luv."

Hm. Must be a different world. Or a much different time, anyhow. His accent is familiar enough.

"Well, I am from Texas, which is part of America, which is a country on Earth."

She soaks a corner of the cloth in alcohol, and turns to smile at him. She boldly takes one of his hands, and presses the cloth to the cuts on his knuckles.

"This may sting."

Gwaine may grimace just a bit at the sting of the alcohol on his wound. But, honestly? It hurt more when he punched the other man.

(He had been wearing a strange green armour, after all.)

"This is friendly," he says, ever the flirt. "Are all Texas women as beautiful and kind as you?"

He may have to go to this America she speaks of.

She keeps her blue eyes trained on his knuckles, gently — albeit diligently — cleaning his wounds; however, her smile grows crookedly.

"There are very few women like me, Mr. Gwaine."

She glances up, attending to one particularly noticeable bruise.

"An' not everyone here's friendly. You jus' happened t'get lucky."

"Ah, I'm very lucky to meet such a rare flower."

And friendlies? Well. Essetir certainly had very few, so Hwaine is used to not meeting too many nice persons.

(Or maybe it's just him, getting on everyone's bad side.)

His grin goes a bit crooked like Kate's.

"I suppose I should be worried too. Rare flowers can often be the most dangerous. Are you dangerous, m'lady?"

"You bet I am."

Her hips shift. It's blatantly teasing, but has the added effect of flashing her guns.

"We won't have no problem, though. So long as y'mind your manners."

Laughter shines in her eyes.

"An' this seems like a good time t'mention there's rules here. Three, t'be precise. An' the first — "

She holds up his hand.

" — is no violence."

Her hips get an appreciative look, her guns a blank one.

He continues to grin his charming grin at her.

"Oh, this? This was a slight disagreement. I'm not the violent sort."

People are just violent with him?

"I'll mind my manners, m'lady."

"Good. Y'best."

She's barely penning in a smile. Quietly, she holds out her hand for him to offer the other set of bloodied knuckles.

"There's also no outside business. So, if y'got a problem with anybody who walks through that door, y'better wait until y'both walk back out again t'handle it. An' lastly — "

Her illusion of schoolmarm intimidation falters somewhat, when she hesitates on the final rule.

"No indiscretion in public."

Gwaine dutifully offers her his other hand. Noting, at the same time, the slip in her illusion.

"Now you've lost me," he says, sucking in a sharp breath and giving a shake of his head.

"My attire, you see. It has a way of coming off on its own. It can't be helped."

Her expression flattens.

"Like magic?"

"Ah, a force more powerful than that," Gwaine explains, leaning toward her despite the flatness of her expression.

"Mead."

"You're trouble."

The observation comes with a halfhearted attempt to not look entirely amused by him.

"But I mean it. Y'break the rules, an' Security will imprison you."

There. At least his hands don't look so bad anymore. She gives him another once-over for other hurts she might could mend.

"Which would be a cryin' shame, denyin' us barfolk your color."

There's little left she could mend, only bruising and sore muscles, hidden beneath the layers he wears.

Gwaine puts a newly mended hand over his heart.

"I'll do my best to remain clothed, m'lady."

He can almost pass for sincere.

But, then there's the crooked smile again and -

"Until you request otherwise."

Did she become some sorta magnet for these kinds of fellas when she wasn't looking?

At least she takes it in stride, laughing sweetly rather than knocking him out.

Not to say that couldn't change at some point.

"Then y'should be safe from bein' celled for a long time, Mr. Gwaine."

And, giving him a dose of his own medicine...

She winks.

Gwaine laughs. He has no problem with being giving a dose of his own medicine. He enjoys it immensely, actually.

"I'm patient yet persistent. Maybe we'll meet somewhere in the middle. A medium amount of time."

A challenge?

Well, Kate can never turn down one of those. She narrows her eyes playfully, and offers to shake on it.

"We'll see."

Milliways just got a lot more interesting.

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