(no subject)

[andinfluencepeople]

The Chuck who walks down the stairs looks rumpled, confused, and a little irritated. He's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, dog tags hanging outside his shirt, instead of the armor he had on last time.

He's only been here for one night, from his side of things, and the fact that the main room is still here is... disconcerting.

Chuck orders some eggs and orange juice, thanks the bar, and settles down in the middle of the room.

He's trying not to watch anyone too obviously, but, let's be honest. He's not trying very hard.

[ooc: let me know if you'd like to tag, but I'm going to be slow because I suddenly remembered my Yuletide responsibilities!]

Comments

[1stwitness]

"Did you find your Marshal Pentecost?" Ichabod inquires.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck glances up, then leans back. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, he said something about this being a dimensional pocket. Wasn't really expecting that.

"You have a name?" he asks, after a moment. "I'm Chuck Hansen, to get the niceties taken care of."

[1stwitness]

"Ichabod Crane", he returns. "You were really in no fit state for the niceties on your arrival."

[andinfluencepeople]

"Ichabod," Chuck repeats, before his mouth quirks slightly in an all right, then of bemused acceptance. He taps his fork for a moment. "If you want to sit down," he says, "I'm not going to yell at you."

[1stwitness]

He smiles slightly.

"I'm pleased to hear it. And yes, I know, my name has fallen far out of favor even by 2013, let alone... I forget if you mentioned a year."

[andinfluencepeople]

"2025," Chuck says. "Just barely; I was just getting used to summer when we were shoved up to Hong Kong. It's even colder here than it is there, though. Uh, you're from... 2013?"

This is so weird.

[1stwitness]

"I am from 1781", he corrects. "I now live in 2013, but that is a very long - and frankly even to me unbelievable - story."

[ostro_goth]

One of the people he might not seem to observe is a tall, grim barbarian warrior, dark-haired, with a Tyrian purple cloak, carrying a large battle-axe.

Smelling of wood-smoke, and followed by four cats as he comes in from the lake area.

[andinfluencepeople]

Nope, the observation is definitely evident on this one.

Chuck watches him, brow furrowed, before staring at the guy with the axe is probably not the smartest life choice thirty minutes after waking up.

He turns his attention to the cats.

[ostro_goth]

The cats are one tabby, one white with grey tabby spots, a little grey one, and a little black one. They follow their human casually, like an afterthought.

The little grey one, though, hops onto the bar itself and meows demandingly.

The axe-man looks around the bar, and when he sees Chuck, he raises an eyebrow -- obviously, the axe-man notices that he's new.

[andinfluencepeople]

This is the problem: Chuck has no fucking clue how to handle strangers.

Not people he's never met, of course not -- there's tons of people he's never met. But he knows their crew, or their job, or at least they know who he is, and the Shatterdome just makes everything... simpler.

So he glances at the cats, and back up to the man, raising his eyebrows. "They imprint on you, or something?"

[ostro_goth]

The axe-man lifts the little grey cat off the bar counter, and turns to Chuck.

"Him, I raised from a week-old kitten," he says. "The others merely look to me for food and attention, the way cats will."

[andinfluencepeople]

"I don't know that many cats," Chuck admits. "I always thought they were supposed to be ... independent, or whatever."

[redintheledger]

Nataliya pauses on her way to the Window. She meant to just walk through and not talk to anyone, just have her tea and read a little in peace, but he caught her eye.

"Evening," she says, changing direction to walk closer.

[andinfluencepeople]

"Morning," he replies, smile quirking up with amusement at the time difference. "How're you?"

[redintheledger]

"The weeds haven't defeated me, so I think 'victorious' might cover it." Her dress is still plain and black, but there is a blue kerchief over her red hair, and a few scratches on her hands.

"I see you managed to talk to Comrade Bar?"

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck's brow furrows. "It has political affiliations?"

[redintheledger]

"Well, her somewhat generous nature in supporting the patrons here could be argument of a socialist bent..." she begins, a small smile ghosting around her mouth.

"But no, none that I'm aware. Some call her just the Bar, sometimes it's Lady Bar. I use Comrade, sometimes. She doesn't mind."

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck returns her smile. "Well, all right," he says. "Hopefully she won't mind that I don't pay attention to politics."

Like he could've stopped the de-funding of the PPDC.

"Are you -- busy?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Baroo?"

You're not the only one doing some watching tonight, Chuck. There's an odd-eyed, good-sized heeler pointed your way.

(It's the eggs. Eggs are food. Food is good.)

(.... he is not a dog of complex thought processes.)

[andinfluencepeople]

The baroo gets a quick glance, then Chuck's face lights up.

"Hey there," he says, slipping off his seat into an easy crouch, right hand held out low, palm up so that the dog can sniff it if he wants. "Looking for hand-outs?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"He always is," says a woman's (American) voice dryly as the dog eagerly snuffles at the offered hand. "Even when he's just been fed."

There is not a single visible trace of shame about the dog's expression.

"He's not bothering you, is he?" says the woman- Asian, gray-haired, several scars on her face, dark green fatigues like something out of an old Hollywood movie about World War 2. "I usually keep closer tabs on him than that."

[andinfluencepeople]

"Ah, he's a clever one," Chuck says, rolling his hand to ruffle the dog's ears amiably. "Aren't you?"

"It's no problem. I've got my own, at home," he tells the woman, before his expression shifts. "Well, he's still at home, at least. Chuck Hansen."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Whurf," the dog announces, and wriggles happily. That's probably a yes.

"Ellen Park," Ellen says. "And this is Dogmeat. He's been my partner for a good while now- couldn't ask for better."

Really, that dog might have all the self preservation instincts of a concussed mole rat sometimes, but he's done her a world of good when he hasn't been trying to rip out the throats of robots or hamstring deathclaws.

"I don't think I know you. Are you new here?"

[andinfluencepeople]

"Yeah," Chuck says, sitting back on his heels so it's more comfortable looking at Ellen while he pets Dogmeat.

"Just showed up last night, actually, so I figure I'm about as new as it gets."