milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Steve sits at the bar, the first thing he gets is a cupcake with red, white and blue frosting and Happy 95th Birthday!.

"Yeah, yeah," he says in a good-natured tone, because even he has given up trying to keep track of how old he is. Twenty-eight, ninety-five, two? Ninety-five is probably the most accurate.

The second thing he gets is a napkin: Want to bartend today?

Yes. Yes, he does. The Big Book of Drinks even has a patriotic section.

TODAY'S SPECIALS
Stars and Stripes Forever
Patriotic Margarita
All-American Beauty
Apple, cherry or blueberry pie by the slice

[ooc: As of 6:30 PM MST, bartending is closed to new threads. Thanks for tagging in, everybody!]

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"Oh, that," Steve says with a slightly bashful look. "Yeah.

"Happy Fourth to you, too. Can I get you a drink?"

"Y'don't happen t'have somethin' simple, do you? Jus' a good ol'-fashioned bourbon would do me splendidly."

She adjusts her gun belt as she takes a seat. Her hands are the color of cinnamon, stained from spicing her peaches.

"We always have something simple," he assure her,and pours her a straight bourbon.

"Wonderful."

She grins. She'll need a few more bourbons to carry her through the day.

"Would y'remind me of your name? I believe we met once before. Ah, I'm Kate Barlow."

"Steve Rogers," Steve says. "I'm not sure that we have, but it's nice to meet you now."

"Could be I've jus' seen you around."

He does have a commanding presence, and quite the number of friends here.

"S'a pleasure, Mr. Rogers. How did Miss Bar manage t'rope you into tendin' today?"

"I've been around a while, I guess," he admits.

"She asked. I like tending--I've done it quite a few times now."

"Y'didn't have any other plans today? Miss Bar likes t'remind me of anniversaries by nudgin' me into a partyin' mood."

Beat.

"If by 'nudge', I mean 'thrust'."

"I have plans," Steve says. "I'm just waiting for my--my particular friend to come in."

"Oh, I see."

She sips demurely at her bourbon.

"Say no more, then. I didn't mean t'pry."

"No problem," he says easily.

"What's your where and when, Miss Barlow?"

"Texas, eighteen-eighty-eight. I hang my hat in Galveston, for the time bein'."

No, really. She has the hat and everything.

"How 'bout yourself, Mr. Rogers?"

"New York City, 2013."

"Mm — "

She sets her drink down.

"I've visited New York from jus' about that time. Y'must enjoy it."

"It's my home," Steve says simply.

She smiles warmly.

"Texas has always been my home, but I've always had a fondness for New York. Hard not to. They jus' finished the Statue of Liberty in my day. I was surprised t'see her turned green when I went t'visit with my friend."

"It's the copper," Steve says. "I understand that's why the artist chose that metal--the patina she got as she aged."

He's very fond of the Lady, obviously.

She nods with enthusiasm.

"It must've been somethin' t'see her change from year t'year. Maybe I'll get the chance."

It's a dream she doesn't think will be realized, not with her circumstances. However, it's nice to think about.

"I bet it was," Steve says softly. "I wasn't around for that."

"Oh, of course. Y'were probably born long after she'd started t'color."

Steve pauses, then says, "Not that long after. I was actually born in 1918."

"Oh."

Beat.

"Oh, but then — ?"

She does some quick math, which doesn't seem to add up at all.

"I'm ninety-five years old today," Steve says, with an expression that says he knows how weird it is.

"I was... the subject of a scientific experiment in 1942," Steve explains. "It gave me strength and agility and healing, and when I crashed a plane into the Arctic in 1944, it basically put me to sleep for seventy years."

"Oh, good gracious."

Her voice, ever soft, spills quietly from her lips like water over smooth stones.

"That must've been an awful experience for you, I'm so sorry."

"Waking up was hard," Steve says. "Coping with being seventy years in the future and not able to go back--that was hard. I don't remember being in the ice."

Sometimes, though... some of his nightmares are so quiet. So cold.