milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"But musing what an easy thing it were to mix our opiates in a larger cup," Autor says, patting the counter in preparation to hop over it. "And drink, and not perceive"—and here he hops—"sleep deepening lead his truer kinsman up, like undistinguished Night, darkening the skirts of Eve.*"

After a few minutes of setting up his prior preparations, the boy reaches for the specials board. "Good night, Bar."

Bitter Chocolate Aria
Hot chocolate & one croissant

Submission Sonata
Virgin strawberry & wasabi daiquiri

Ode to Blood
Giga ant eggs, sour apple juice, seltzer water, flavored ice

Fiery Trigon
Grenadine, lemon juice, apple juice, passion fruit juice, & cinnamon

Silent Overture
Free coffee if you can prove that you’re knighted

Note: Virgin bar.

[This post is open forever.]

*Ode to Sleep , Richard Chenevix Trench

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Autor perks up a bit. Oh, that's interesting. "Off in Europe," he says, waving his croissant hand. "Is the western United States as wild as everyone jokes that it is?"

He takes apart some of his croissant before eating more of it,

"Not as bad as the stories make out but it ain't easy."

Autor notes his dwindling croissant and wonders if he should offer to make latkes, or bring out fruit and cheese. He may as well; he's hungry himself.

"What makes it difficult?" he says, and cups his chin in his hand. He knows, he's read stories, but to hear it from people who have been there is completely different. It always it.

"Not easy to grow anythin' on the land and all it takes is one bad year and you're owin' more than you can pay back. And just doesn't take much to go from barely gettin' by to seein' it all fall apart. We're doin' alright now, but paid a pretty steep price to get there,"

And its not all working as well as it could.

Autor nods and pulls out a few potatoes to slice up. "What sorts of crops do you grow on your land? And how big is it?"

"We have a herd of cattle and grow a few vegetables. Not that big,"

William says a number that would be a small holding.

Autor will have to look that number up later for context, but for now he'll take William's word for it.

"I suspect the bar is a good place to rest, then?"

The kid soaks his potatoes, moving with an easy grace in the kitchen one wouldn't expect of someone so gangly.

Its enough to make do with not a great deal of profit,

"It is though I help out in the stables here. What are you makin'?"

"Latkes," he says, indicating that William is free to hop over the bar if he wishes. "Potato pancakes."

Autor shreds his potatoes with a fascinating and convenient little machine he'd found recently. He wraps the potatoes in cheesecloth, and wrings them out.

Then he turns to offer William more hot chocolate. "Do you see a lot of animals here other than horses?"

"Yeah, there's a girl who has a polar-bear dog, Ellen has her brahmin, those are cows with two heads, the demon bunnies and all the folks who change shape. Do you need any help?"

"Polar-bear dog?" Autor says. "Oh, no. I hope that's not what it sounds like. And I didn't think Ellen brought Brahmin here. Wow. Have you worked in the stables for as long as you've visited the bar?"

The boy tilts his head, and then offers William three eggs and a salt shaker. "Beat these together, and add some salt."

In the meantime, Autor will grate an onion--a different sort of grating than he normally does.

"Naga's kind of cute and big. She did, yeah, I helped her calf one of 'em. Most of them time I have,"

He nods and starts mixing, he knows how to do this.

"Oh, wow," he says. "Those must be huge."

Autor offers to take the bowl from William once he's done, and adds his onion and some flower to it, along with the potatoes. It only takes a few minutes to fry them up in oil.

"Thanks for your help," he says, and offers one to the other boy. "On the house."

"No, not that much bigger than another cow just odd with two heads. Thank you, they smell good,"

He takes one and eats it quickly.

Autor grins and offers him another one.

"Do the heads make the birth more difficult?"

"They do, cause you have to shift them around, it took a lot of work but they were alive and doin' fine."

Autor shudders and dips more latke batter into his frying pan. "I wonder if I were born to that life I'd be suited to it, too. Have you ever wished you could be something else?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm tryin' to make it so my brother doesn't have to be a rancher unless he wants to be one. Are you in school?"

This is a topic he doesn't like talking about so maybe he can change the conversation.

Autor nods and tops off William's hot chocolate again. He's well aware of his unease; it's almost like a sixth sense for the musician at this point, given that he's usually the cause.

"I am," he says softly. "I study music, which is a far cry easier than your life, I suspect."

He turns the latkes over. "Have you always lived near Bisbee?"

"No, grew up farther east but we moved west because the dry was better for my brother's lungs. Music sounds nice. What instrument do you play?"

He munches on another latke, its a good taste and he knows how hard his life is.

Autor flips the last of the latkes out onto a plate, and brings them to the bar.

"Piano," he says, and blows on a pancake that he selects. "I've been trying to avoid practicing here since the musical plague. Were you hit with that?"

"I was, yeah. Never heard the song before but some folks said it fit me. Were you?"

He shakes his head. "I wasn't, but the noise was awful enough that I took to camping outdoors until it was over."

The way he wrinkles his nose and bites down on his latke demonstrates exactly how much he doesn't want that to happen again. "Which song were you struck with?"

"It was called Valley of the Low Sun, but I didn't know the singer. Lucky that you were able to get away from it."

Autor nods. "I came in before it started, which granted me some sort of immunity, I suppose? I never did learn the cause of it."

He nibbles on his latke thoughtfully. "Did yours follow you home or did you test that?"