(no subject)

[abitofawildman]

The note is waiting for him when Bumi finally makes it over towards Bar. It doesn't catch his eye until he's already in the process of slipping out of his heavy koala-sheep wool United Forces coat.

"What's all the then, eh?" he asks as he undoes the scarf at his neck.

The characters on the napkin shift and then reform.

"And what's in it for me, exactly?"

A large platter of blubbered turtle-seal jerky appears on her top.

"You, Sifu Bar, drive a hard bargain."

The coat comes fully off, as does the scarf. Bumi's rolls up his shirt sleeves as he rounds Bar and comes to stand behind her.

"Bar's open," he says to the room at large.

Comments

[fluffiest_archadian]

[Mostly a placeholder, since I must sleep soonish.]

Sherral's been out training, so he's - probably not the best suited for interaction (which is to say argh sweat) as he enters the bar with his t-shirt held loosely in one hand and a towel draped artfully over his head.

But the nose beneath the towel catches the smell of the jerky quickly, and he makes a beeline towards it.

"What is that?"

[abitofawildman]

"The last beautiful thing you'll ever see if you even so much try to lay a finger on it."

Bumi's not even looking at the boy when he says this.
Though, it's clear from his tone that he's smiling.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Pause.

Politely (and very, very innocently): "Do teeth count as laying a finger?"

He doesn't have to use his hands! It's all fine.

[abitofawildman]

"Finger? No. But I would certainly count that as trying."

Bumi turns and gives the boy a wild come at me, brow smile.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral gives this duly solemn thought. On the one hand, a basic sense of decorum would suggest that going for the jerky would be rude.

On the other hand, he's just thrown his towel in Bumi's face as a distraction tactic and is now moving to snatch up a jerky.

So there's that.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo's pretty messed up when he takes a seat. Dried blood rests over most of his face, stemming from the busted bridge of his nose.

So that's why he's mute as he gazes at the blank specials board, then at Bumi.

He unclips his holster, pistol and all, from his hip, and sets it down on the bartop.

"Beer."

Some wants in life are simple.

[abitofawildman]

Bumi looks at Voodoo.
Then he keeps looking at Voodoo.
After that...there's more looking at Voodoo.

"Can't wait to hear this one," he says finally as he fetches a glass and fills it at the nearest tap. Side effect of Bumi being functionally illiterate in English is that he has no idea what he's pouring.

[boston_bruiser]

"You'll be waiting a goddamn long time."

Voodoo doesn't catch what Bumi's pouring. All he knows - all he cares about - is that it doesn't taste terrible.

He sets the glass down and slides it back over to Bumi.

"'nother."

[abitofawildman]

Bumi hands Voodoo a glass of water to tide him over while he fills the emptied pint glass.

"Drink," he orders in his best Commanding Officer voice.

"You know funny enough? Time's one of the few things I have in abundance."

[boston_bruiser]

"Whoop-de-doo. Who knows? Get me drunk enough and I might just tell you of my own volition."

He downs the glass of water, groaning as the brain freeze hits him before he sets that glass down, too.

[crossbowkillshot]

Daryl sidles up to the bar. He thinks for a moment and then nods to Bumi,

"Whiskey please? Straight..." His voice a little quiet.

[abitofawildman]

The only whiskey that Bumi is familiar with is Fire Whiskey, and so...that's what Daryl gets. Straight.

Careful there, son. This stuff packs a whollop.

[crossbowkillshot]

Daryl takes a quick gulp, coughs and sputters a bit, and sets the glass down.

Once he has some control over himself.

"Wow..." He steadies himself before take another, slightly smaller sip.

"You weren't kidding."

[abitofawildman]

Bumi is not laughing at you Daryl, he's laughing with you.
It's just...that you haven't started laughing yet, is all.

"Not about alcohol, I don't. Here, have some water."

Pardon him, if you will. This soda dispenser gun is as close to waterbending as he's ever gotten...and it's a little too much fun for him.

[crossbowkillshot]

There's something inside of Daryl that he just can't help but laugh a little at himself. He takes a sip of the water and half-smirks.

"Thanks. Don't think we've met, have we? The name's Daryl..."

[hecu_marine]

"I am well aware that I'mma regret this in about two minutes," says Shephard as he approaches the bar. "Surprise me."

It's been that kind of week.

[abitofawildman]

Bumi is all smiles at the sight of Shephard.

"Well well well, looks like someone's got a bad case of death-wish," he says with a chuckle.

He strokes his beard like a criminal mastermind as his eyes scan the back bar and taps.

"Ah hah!" his gaze has fallen on a tap shaped like...a shark.
"Here we go, this should be interesting."

Bumi pours a 90 Minute Dogfish Head IPA.

[hecu_marine]

"Naw, just a mild case of the crazy," says Shephard. "I get a death wish, I come lookin' for Brewmeister Armageddon. Seen it back there somewheres. We ain't never had that shit in my world. This's just a gambling streak, that's all."

And frankly, the stuff in the glass looks pretty damn fine to him. Smells all right, too, compared to some of the shit that pases for alcohol around this place.

"How've you been, anyways?"

[abitofawildman]

Bumi mouths the words Brewmeister Armageddon, as if committing them to memory.

"Me? Well apparently I'm playing the part of Innkeeper this evening, which...all things considered is hardly the hardest job that's ever been set before me. Plus, the fringe benefits are pretty nice."

He slides the large plate of jerky over in Shep's direction.

[hecu_marine]

"Thank you, don't mind if I do," says Shephard, picking up a piece. "What'd this used to be?"

Not that getting an unpleasant answer is likely to make him not eat it. As long as it wasn't capable of speech or something, he's pretty good. Meat's meat.

[lifethatisscratched]

Remember Ratonhnhaké:ton, Bumi?

'cause right now he's growling with frustration in between grunting with effort as he jumps up and down. These barstools are too damn high.

[abitofawildman]

It's the scrabbling up the chair that gets Bumi's attention. He rests his elbows on the bartop and peers over the side.

"Sorry son, apparently you've got to be at least yay tall to ride this ride," he says with a lopsided grin.

[lifethatisscratched]

Ratonhnhaké:ton doesn't swear - won't swear, most likely. But his expression is analogous to fuck that noise.

So he squats down, tucks himself in, and makes the mightiest leap he can manage. The fifteenth time is the charm, apparently - but he's just barely hanging onto it, and the stool does not like its balance disrupted so. It starts to teeter over, Ratonhnhaké:ton's eyes going wide.

(WAUGH.)

[abitofawildman]

It's just...so damn entertaining to watch. It really is. And Bumi? Is so happy that there are these pretzel stick things on which to munch while he watches.

He's just about to feel sorry for the kid when he notices the boy's expression.

oh boy.

Bumi leans across the bartop and down to secure the stool. It...is an awkward movement, especially seeing as it resulted in him lying belly down on the bar with both of his feet now being well off the ground, but it serves to stabilize the chair.

[lifethatisscratched]

And Ratonhnhaké:ton scrambles up onto the stool.

He doesn't want to thank Bumi - blame the short joke - but at the same time, Bumi saved him a world of hurt.

So he gets a curt nod instead.