milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Even though it's about a week before the actual events (and that said events are taking place in London, not New York), Olympic fever pretty much has Manhattan in its grip.

What other explanation could there be for Munch's theme for the specials board tonight?

Tonight's Specials
Gold Record
Silver King Cocktail
Bronze Dragon
Olympic

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They're gearing up for the Olympics in John's world, too (in Los Angeles, in this case). In spite of everything, he's vaguely aware that it's coming up. It's one of those things that's hard to miss.

John lays a stack of little kid's t-shirts and a small pair of sneakers on the bar as he takes a seat. Yard sale season has begun in Blue Earth, and for about three bucks he has Dean halfway outfitted for summer.

"Hey," he says to the man behind the bar. "I didn't know they had actual bartenders here."

"Hey back," the man behind the bar replies. "Yeah, sometimes. Bar usually takes a break and goes to sleep for a couple hours once a day, so someone's got to fill in."

"That said, what can I get you?"

"The Bar sleeps." Well, it's not the weirdest thing he's heard here. "Of course it does."

Why not?

"Can I get a Coke? It's still kind of early at home."

Munch shrugs at that. "Even sentient pieces of wood need to recharge."

Why not indeed.

"Coming right up. Do you want a glass, or just straight from the bottle?"

"Guess everyone's entitled to a break now and then."

John idly taps one toe lightly against the Bar, half expecting to hear stuttered snoring.

"Depends." He cranes his neck a bit as if trying to get a look behind the bar. "Do you have plastic bottle or glass ones?"

"Actually..."

He makes a quick check of the soft drink stock behind the bar.

"...it looks like we have both."

"Glass bottle, please."

He knows it the exact same chemical formula, or whatever, but there's nothing like a cold Coke from a glass bottle.

"Those are starting to get harder to find. Everything's going over to plastic."

"Coming right up."

He takes a bottle from the refrigerator, pops the bottlecap off then sets it down in front of his customer.

"There you are: one Coke."

"Thanks."

John takes a swig.

Yeah. Definitely better out of a glass bottle.

"So." He eyes the man. "Are you actually from Milliways? I mean, if you're the bartender."

He shakes his head. "Technically I'm considered part-time staff here. I'm actually from Manhattan."

Milliways seems to be a place with no people of it's own. It makes John think of Casablanca for some reason, though John would readily admit that he may not be comparing the two correctly. That movie had been more one of Mary's favorites than his.

"Yeah? You're the second New Yorker I've met here."

Okay, technically Knox was from Gotham. But come on. Gotham is basically New York.

"You a bartender by trade?"

"Amateur bartender, maybe." Munch chuckles. "I used to be part-owner of a bar in Baltimore when I lived there, and I tended my fair share of shifts.

"When I'm not here, I'm a detective with the NYPD, Special Victims Unit."

John takes another drink of Coke, working on keeping his face blank.

How well he succeeds is up for grabs.

"You're a cop."

John has found himself growing a bit leery of law enforcement over the last several months. There had been one or two in Lawrence who had asked him some thinly veiled questions after the fire.

And one of the things that he's learned about hunting is that it involves crossing the law quite a bit. John had never considered that possibility before, but he figures he'll jump off that bridge when he gets to it.

"Interesting line of work," he adds. Because it seems like he ought to add something

"It's not the most glamorous, that's for sure."

Munch can sense it, the discomfort, the sudden shift in demeanor. He's seen it more times than he can count when going to interview witnesses or potential suspects.

But, he's not at work right now (well, that work, anyway). He's got no reason to treat this man like anything more than a customer.

You really need to start working on your poker face, Winchester.

"I'll bet," John replies, aiming for casual.

"Is New York as bad as everyone says it is?"

"Depends on what everyone is saying about it."

John huffs a half laugh.

"I'm from the Midwest. Most people say it's Sodom, Gomorrah, and a riot at Alcatraz all rolled into one."

"Only on its bad days. On the good it's only Sodom and Gomorrah."

Munch grins. He might be kidding, he might not.

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