milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There is a man in Milliways. He is neither tall nor short, nor fat or thin. He is wearing a tie. He is having a drink at the bar.

He is new.

He has always been there.

Cecil, welcome... to Milliways.

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Cecil turns on his stool to observe the Observation Window a little better.

"A-plus for visuals but the soundtrack needs work," is his verdict.

"It is silent in space," the man says, sipping his wine while watching the stars explode. "And musical taste varies so widely."

"Is it truly?" muses Cecil. "I like to think the music of the spheres wasn't just a supposition."

"Of course," the man concedes, "if in your world, the stars sing, all the better for you. Space is silent in mine, as there are no molecules to start swinging and transport sound. Or so science says."

"I don't know if they sing," says Cecil, "but sometimes they dance, and sometimes they play hide-and-seek."

"They do that in my world, too," the man says, "as you can describe certain astronomical phenomena that way."

"Oh, can you see them counting and scurrying off too?"

The man laughs. "No, they don't do that!" he says. "They just seem to vanish when brighter lights come close, or they're covered by thin clouds."

"Not quite the same thing," says Cecil, amused.

"I'm Cecil, of Night Vale."

[ooc: Stepping out for bit.]

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cecil," the man says. "I'm Dr. Hannibal Lecter, from Baltimore."

Edited 2013-08-13 22:11 (UTC)

"Well met, Dr. Lecter," Cecil says expansively.

"Thank you!" Dr. Lecter says. "Isn't Night Vale somewhere in the Southwest?"

"You've heard of our little burg?"

"I do think I have heard it mentioned in passing," Dr. Lecter admits. "Night Vale. Yes. Remind me which state it is in?"

"Definitely not Texas," says Cecil with a vague look in his eyes.

"Yes, I would have thought somewhere further west," Dr. Lecter nods.

"Yes," says Cecil simply. "In the desert."

"Do you have those very picturesque if clichéd red sandstone cliffs and mountains where you are?" Dr. Lecter enquires.

"We have a canyon," says Cecil. "But no mountains. I'm not entirely sure they exist as more than a thought experiment."

"Canyons are an important feature of the Southwestern landscape as well," Dr. Lecter concedes. "Schrödinger's cat then exists in Night Vale?"

"No ~~Yes~~," says Cecil.

"Buy you a drink?" says Cecil.

"Thank you, gladly," the man says. "Perhaps something local from Night Vale? Do you have any microbreweries?"

"Hm..."

He says to the Bar, "Could we have two bottles of Pale Frothy Gleamer?"

He informs Dr. Lecter, "They're a highly respected microbrewery. They had a hard time after wheat and wheat by-products were banned, but they found a way around it."

"Barley?" Dr. Lecter guesses. "Spelt?"

"Honey," says Cecil, handing Dr. Lecter a bottle with a purple label of a large bee hovering over a ill-proportioned hive.