Happy Hour

[lady_bols]

Alex had only intended to come down for a pot of tea and a plate of Garibaldis.  Maybe a book or three.  Instead, she's greeted with a napkin.  'I'm sorry, you want me to what?'  

Another napkin appears, this time, with a strange glyph that implies maternal concern.  'I'm not turning into a hermit.   I just -- it's been a difficult few weeks.'  To say the least.

Another napkin appears, this time, invoking the tried and true: Guilt.  

'Oh all right.  If it's only for a few hours, I suppose I can manage without mucking it up too terribly.  You go on and have a nice nap.  I'll mind the shop.' Another napkin implies gratitude and indicates where the specials board is.

'Right, then.'  Alex looks a little lost as she slips behind the bar.  First things first, an apron.  And then a white cotton towel to drape over her shoulder like a proper barman.  Taking up the chalk and board, she thinks for a long moment and then writes out in a careful, flowing hand:

Specials

Red or White Wine
by the glass or carafe

Boddington's Ale

Scotch whiskey

Pot of Tea or Coffee

She makes herself a pot of tea, and sends one of the rats off for her biscuits.  'Happy hour is up, you wretched hive of scum and villainy.'

It's said with all due affection. 

[ooc: Happy hour is up!  I'm in and out because I'm doing laundry, and I may decamp to a coffee shop later, but have at!  I have to call slow for a bit.  Back later.  Enjoy! Thread hop! Do what you do best, M'ways.  <3]

Comments

[balancingminds]

"No, this is what I wanted at the moment," Her thoughts are odd since that's a large time gap.

[lady_bols]

'All right. Just let me know if you need anything else.'

Her thoughts flicker back and forth between two squad rooms, one with a vivid black and white chequer board floor, and terribly bright, overhead fluorescent lighting. She's the only woman present save for a young girl in uniform, and the tone of the men's language says that she's the odd one out. The other set of rooms are more modern, grey cubicles and offices, softer lighting, plants and a more balanced gender profile among the officers. The faces in each are marked with distinct clarity, and she still can't place him.

This is one of those that will come to me when I'm sound asleep, isn't it. A faint image appears, the memory one that is never far from the surface. It's of a bullet spiraling directly at her forehead. A moment later, there's a dull flash of pain and a sudden, leaden darkness. She doesn't seem visibly disturbed by the memory, but it's right there, so many times repeated, it's left a palpable mark on her psyche.

[balancingminds]

What's going on in her mind seems to have a logic to it and he sips his drink while he considers that bullet and how it might fit together,

"I will. Are you new to Milliways? I'm still fairly new, I think its been a little over a year and I'm always learning new faces."

[lady_bols]

'Well, yes, and no. Time moves strangely here, doesn't it?'

The image of walking through the doors of the Railway Arms, and then re-emerging here appears. What happened between is fuzzy, fog and bright lights.

'I've been holing up in my room, trying to deal with the whole -- being dead thing.' She tries to keep her voice light, and she keeps looking back at the gentleman seated at the end of the bar, determinedly drinking his Scotch with a bit of a frown as she talks.

'Don't mind him. He's just keeping an eye out for me.'

The thoughts that ripple across her mind are one of a fierce protectiveness, trust and affection. Deep currents run there.

'Anyway, that's why you probably haven't seen me around.'

[balancingminds]

He follows her gaze to Gene Hunt, they've only spoken briefly and lifts his glass in acknowledgement,

"It does, yes. Ah, that would make everything stranger. I've done that a time or two for my sister at pubs."

Though its clear they're more than that and her memories are intriguing as there's layers of times and places.

[lady_bols]

'So can I ask when you're in from?'

[balancingminds]

"1962, I'm comparatively early for this century," Time in Milliways is odd.

[lady_bols]

'Oh really. You fit in so well, I never would have guessed.'

'I'm in from -- this is odd, but bear with me. I died in 2008, woke up in 1981 -- Gene's world -- and recently, discovered that no, I really was dead the first time around, even after having spent three years wearing horrible eighties clothes and hair styles.'

[balancingminds]

He opens his mouth and closes it as he tries to choose a good question, "How disconcerting. Thank you, I'm good at fitting in."

There's a quirk to his lips as he says it since Erik and Raven both think he's too concerned about not standing out.

[lady_bols]

'If you think it sounds disconcerting, think what it must have been like to live through it.'

You have no idea, Charles. No idea at all.

[balancingminds]

"I wouldn't know where to start. Has Milliways been helpful for you?"

[lady_bols]

'I'm going to go with yes.'

Again, her thoughts stray back to Gene. Without Milliways, they wouldn't be together. And as strange and painful as it's been, she'd rather have the chance than have lost him. That thought makes her eyes sheen.

'I'm glad to be here, if that's what you mean.'

[balancingminds]

Her thoughts on Gene are wonderful and he thinks of how easily he fits with Iris and the push and pull of Erik,

"I think it was."

[lady_bols]

She grins at him, whatever emotions he's experiencing playing across his face, creating a moment of silent understanding.

'What line of work are you in?'

She gets the sense that he might be a teacher or a counselor of some sort. A psychologist, perhaps, like herself.

[balancingminds]

"I'm a scientist, geneticist actually,"

He smiles at her idea of his work as he's always been an amateur psychologist due to his ability.

[lady_bols]

In 1962?

'Really. That's -- that must be exciting.'

Yes, Alex, they did have geneticists before genetic sequencing, and DNA testing.

'We rely on the fruits of your research, in my time. I'm a Detective Inspector, from 2008.'

[balancingminds]

"I'm a bit ahead of my time with some of my ideas. Oh, how exactly?"

He doesn't have much experience with the science of crime.

[lady_bols]

'We use it like fingerprints. If there's viable genetic material at the scene of a crime, or on the body of a victim, we can use it to prove a suspect's involvement with a much higher probability.'

She leans on her arms, and her thoughts focused like a laser on the necessity of strong evidence in bringing a suspect to justice.

'And it's also used to prove people's innocence, which is a nice change from some methods of the past.'

[balancingminds]

"That sounds like a good use of genetics. I'm glad to know that ends up happening."

[lady_bols]

She nods, looking down for a moment, and then looking back up, her eyes narrowing a bit.

'Do you teach?'

[balancingminds]

"Not at the moment but when I was working on my dissertation at Oxford, I did. Its something I enjoy,"

And that he plans on finding ways to keep doing since the world needs to learn about mutants.

[lady_bols]

'You strike me as someone who would do well at it.'

Her thoughts skim over the time she's spent writing texts for the police academy, and the now-abandoned plans to go back and teach there someday.

'You were at Oxford? So was I.' A tiny smile at the point of commonality. 'Though I suppose it was much different when you were there. The colleges accept both men and women, now.'

[balancingminds]

"Thank you, one of my sister's nicknames for me is professor. I was and it was a good place for me. That's good to know as its something that's been pushed for over the decades and needed to happen,"

He approves of the women's movement and civil rights since they provide lessons for how mutants might have trouble and success.

[lady_bols]

'And surprisingly, it didn't destroy the whole of English culture, much to some old men's dismay.'

She grins.

'Well, I'd better get back to it. Let me know if you need anything else, Professor?'

It seems a fitting nickname.

[balancingminds]

"I will, thank you."