milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The specials show up on the board the minute he gets there. Bartending's fun -- at least he had fun the last time he was back here -- and if nothing else, he'll have paid off that new set of clothes Bar gave him after his trip to Ellen's world. The last thing he wants is to be known as some kind of freeloader. He's always paid his way, ever since he was seventeen and found himself alone, and there's no reason he'd stop doing it just 'cause he's stuck here.

Tonight's Specials

Easy Action
Between the Sheets
A Goodnight Kiss

The specials make him laugh but hey, they're kind of appropriate and at least they go in progression. He adds one more thing to the board before setting up shop for the duration:

Pyramid advice & info always free

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"Dinna mind at all, tis a favorite shade o'mine. Sounds grand, love tryin' somethin' new 'ere,"

It feels like too long since he's done that.

"The green stuff it is." He reaches back for one of the brown bottles with the pretty lettering on it, opens that up with a flourish: this is a drink he knows. A healthy measure of it goes into the glass with no ice, no nothing. Ambrosia's meant to be enjoyed exactly as it is.

It's a pretty bright shade of green, but it's one that on his world gets people standing in line for more. The shit's addictive.

"I'm Sam, by the way." The glass slides over Bar's surface into the other guy's space. He's always wanted to try doing that, and now... now he has.

"Will, ye 'avin' any?" He takes the glass and lifts it up in toast to Sam.

Well...

"Frak yeah." He can't see why not. As long as he works off some of his room and board and all that, there's no harm in it. He pours a splash into a glass, holds it up to the other guy -- Will, he said -- and nods.

"Here's to it. Where you from, Will?"

Sometimes he wonders if he should even bother asking at this place.

"Nottingham, England an far in the past o'most folks 'ere. Ye?"

Will clinks Sam's glass, drinks are always better with a friend.

"Caprica City, on the planet Caprica." Yeah, he didn't think so. "Needless to say, I... have no frakking idea where Nottingham, England is. I'm guessing Earth?"

It's a pretty good guess, since most of the people he's met here are from Earth or some version of it. At least the ambrosia tastes like home.

His home. But no, no, he's not homesick. He hasn't been homesick since he first moved to Caprica from Picon when he was seventeen.

"Aye, one o'the Earths. Ye from a time where folks go 'tween planets?"

They're always the futures that seem the farthest away.

From someone from some Earth from a long time ago, he's pretty frakking casual about space travel.

"Yeah, I am. Where I'm from, it's one of twelve planets in the... we call it the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. You can go back and forth between any of the twelve or at least most of them. One of them's mostly just a research colony. But none of them are called Earth."

He wonders if he should even bother bringing up that Earth's nothing but a legend in their time. Instead he opts for something else.

"So what do you think of the ambrosia?"

Will frowns as long ago, he met someone who talked of those places but with Milliways, it might not have been the same world.

Milliways changes what you consider normal, "Like it, I'll 'ave to 'member it when I'm cravin' whiskey."

Yeah. A man after his own heart, then.

"I've gotta warn you, it gets addictive." He's known people who've lost everything to a well-placed bottle of ambrosia and he's... really glad he's not one of them.

"One of those drinks that sneaks up on you." Because he's tending, he holds the bottle out in offering. "Refill? My job, man. To make sure it sneaks up on you."

"Oh aye, I know the sort an na drink 'as yet to capture me,"

He nods as he could do with another. His greatest vice has always been anger and the pleasure of letting it out in a fight.

Another shot of ambrosia. It's probably gonna be the easiest drink he pours all night, and he's not drinking his as shots, or at least not downing it all at once. He's gotta be able to stay on his toes for a couple or three hours, until Bar says it's time for him to get the frak out of here. But he does take another sip of his.

"If you haven't found the kind of drink that could catch up with you that way, I'd say you oughtta meet my teammate. He goes by Ten-Point -- that's his average score per game -- and he always says he's never met a drink that can best him. But he always does, every single night."

And that's why they say pyramid players are too dumb to know when to quit. Not all of them, though. Not all.

"Wouldna say that. Rum will best me, which is why I dinna drink it that often or some o'Tuck's creations,"

Those are dangerous and should be drunk carefully.

"Tuck?"

Is he supposed to know who that is? He's not sure. But he nods. "I'm not much of a rum drinker myself. Where I'm from, they grown the sugar cane for it on this planet called Aerilon. A lot of farming there. And they have a great frakking pyramid team. I used to play against them regularly."

"Friend o'mine, 'e's always brewin' things an cookin'. What's pyramid?"

The name sounds familiar as he's seen some of the notices but he doesn't know more than that.

Like the sign says, pyramid talk is free; it makes him smile. "Pyramid's a sport. The national sport of Caprica, where I'm from."

The last line on the specials board gets a nod. That's his contribution to the night's bartending, aside from having his sorry ass on this side of the bar pouring drinks and hopefully making things generally tolerable. "In fact, it's my sport. I've been playing it professionally for fourteen years. It's how I made my living until..."

The front door gets a glare.

"Until a few weeks ago out there."

"Oh aye, can I ask what changed?"

It can't be anything good as it rarely is if he's glaring at the door that way.

Yeah; he nods slowly, lets out a deep breath.

"Twelve planets, right? The Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Same time on the same day, all twelve got attacked. Nuked, bombed with nuclear weapons. The enemies that attacked us? Wiped out billions and billions of people all at once. Most of humanity, gone just like that."

In the blink of an eye, the snap of a finger.

"That's what changed. There's no room for sports any more. A handful of us are still alive out there. Less than a hundred of us. We went from being ball players to resistance fighters. We had no choice."

"Hell, I'm sorry. I'm fightin' for my 'ome but 'gainst those in charge as they use it for themselves. If there's e'er aught I can do, tell me. I've fought in many worlds cause some fights need to 'appen,"

He rubs at his wrist and takes another sip, he hopes Sam won't have to pay the kind of personal price he did for Nottingham.

"Thanks, man."

One thing about this place: it amazes him how many people are willing to offer, sight unseen, to go help. Kind of like what he did for Ellen, the same thing Kara told him was a bad idea. It's instinct, godsdammit, and a desire to help, and frak if he's gonna turn that off in himself just to make her feel better about doing the exact same thing.

And that has no bearing on this conversation.

"I appreciate it. So you're a fighter too. Tell me about it?"

He's the bartender. He's supposed to listen to the sad stories, not tell them.

"Aye, been fightin' for my 'ome with my lord Robin o'Locksley. Nottingham an England are bein' abused by those who should be protectin' 'em. Sheriff's men dinna care 'bout seein' folks safe an well, just wish for coin. We do what we can to keep folks safe an keep 'is anger on us na them,"

It doesn't always work and there have been too many deaths over the years.

"So you guys run a bait-and-switch? A little bit of misdirection?" They've done that against the Cylons, they'll probably keep doing it. Until all the humanoid models have seen it and it won't work any more, 'cause they share all their data or whatever. Swim in the stream and all that.

"How many people you have? We've got just under a hundred."

Ninety-eight people against an army. Yeah, they're frakked. Completely frakked.

"Aye an other times just attack, do what we can. Nothin' like that, tis at most twenty o'us if that. Nottingham's na like those modern cities with buildin's 'oldin' 'undreds just a small city,"

Scale is one of those unexpected things that seems to change as time goes forward.

If his people aren't careful, they could be down to twenty. For some frakking reason, they put him in charge and for some frakking reason, they trust him to keep their sorry asses safe.

He doesn't even know what he's doing.

"So it sounds like you've been around this place a long time." Being casual about the size of cities and the way Will talks about this place, that's the giveaway.

"Am I right about that?"

"Oh aye, been findin' doors for a couple o'years now. Na quite sure 'ow many with 'ow time shifts 'ere."