milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Charlie had been having a stint of good luck. He had money, he had prospects for more, and he was thisclose to getting lucky. He should have known it wouldn't last, and boy did it sour quick.

The woman he met in the bar not only played and robbed him, she gave him her damn cold, too.

After spending the weekend in a room upstairs sick and miserable he's finally out of bed. His slovenly appearance surprises and disgusts him, and it takes a long shower, a shave, and a change of clothes before he feels closer to normal.

Downstairs at the bar he registers his complaint.

"The state of my quarters is quite unacceptable. It is as if some barbarian has taken up residence and left the room in utter disarray."

A napkin exchange with Bar leads to a promise that the Loompas will be dispatched, and a meal of soup, fresh bread and hot tea.

"You have my gratitude, lady." Giving a curt bow 'Leopold' takes up his tray and finds himself a table.

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At one of the tables, a grim, pale man with black hair and black clothes is doing sums in a big ledger, and looks up when 'Leopold' passes.

His eyebrows rise almost comically in astonishment.

"Greetings," he says. "I take it you are neither Jean Valjean, nor Charlie Kenton, nor either of the Logans? I must warn you, there are many men with your face in the bar, these days."

Leopold pauses, looking curiously at the man.

"I beg your pardon?"

What a curious thing to warn a person about.

"My name is Leopold. Duke of Albany, should the title mean anything to you." Which he somewhat doubts and doesn't truly mind.

"This question may seem truly strange," the man says, "but have you been sick lately?"

It is quite the strange question, especially when phrased so, and Leopold arches an eyebrow in response.

"As a matter of fact I have, although it does seem the season for it. Why do you ask?"

Teja peers at him quite intensely, and decides that this is definitely not Jean Valjean. So, either Charlie Kenton, or indeed that Duke of Albany.

"There has been sickness going around here the last few days," he says, "that leaves its sufferers quite confused, believing that they are someone else."

Leopold is taken back by the sharp scrutiny, and straightens himself up at the implication that he is not whom he knows himself to be.

"I suffer neither confusion nor do I make any mistake in who I am. Should my illness be such that inflicts madness I assure you, sir, I would be wise enough to seek a doctor, or at least practice enough common sense to stay in bed."

He gives a firm nod, then takes a seat at a table. Spreading his napkin upon his lap he mutters, in a much different voice, "Wise guy."

Teja turns his head, looking at him still.

He nods, briefly.

"You might wish to see a doctor, in any case."

"What is your name, sir?" he asks, since the man didn't return the courtesy of introductions when Leopold made his.

"I am Teja, son of Tagila," Teja says. "I was the last king of the Ostrogoths in Italy, and died in battle, on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius, in the year 552 of Christian reckoning. In this place, I serve with Security, and run the forge."

"Given all of that I am not certain of the appropriate title to address you with," he admits, studying the man in interest.

"Regardless, while your concern is somewhat appreciated, I assure you I-- " he pauses, holding up a finger as his nose scrunches with an oncoming sneeze. Hurriedly he digs a cloth handkerchief out of his coat pocket just in time to catch the start of a sneezing fit.

Wracked with sneezes, he finishes by blowing his nose loudly into the cloth. With a disgusting and long snort he hocks up a loogie and turns his head to spit it.

"Ugh, that chick was a damn Typhoid Mary."

It seems the man is still vaccillating between that duke and who he used to be -- Charlie Kenton, most likely.

"What woman?" he asks, quickly, hoping for an answer before the man shifts back.

"Woman?" It's once again Leopold who turns back to Teja, carefully folding and putting away his handkerchief.

"I don't follow."

"You said something about typhoid and Mary?" Teja says. "That is a woman, is it not? And a sickness?"

"I'm afraid I don't know who you are talking about," he replies, apologetic but also still slightly annoyed. "I do wish you would cease in harping on illness, though. It isn't as if I carry the plague, just a harmless cold."

"This cold is not entirely harmless," Teja says, "but yes, it is not the plague. None die; all that may ensue is great emberrassment afterwards."

Poor Valjean!!

"Embarrassment from sickness?" Leopold sniffs. "It's hardly a thing to feel shame about. Every one suffers malady at one time or another."

"This wave of cold brings with it some strange hallucinations," Teja says. "They might yet embarrass some sufferers."

"I see. Well, clearly I shall not be one of them." He is handling himself with his usual decorum.

"Am I to understand you are not suffering from this bug that seems to be going around?"

"Not yet," Teja says. "And I hope it shall stay that way. I had it in earlier years and thought I was yet another Eric, hell-bent upon revenge."

"Earlier years? Am I to assume this is some sort of regularly occurring thing? Like a seasonal flu?"

"Yes, indeed it is," Teja says. "The greatly confusing seasonal Milliways flu, you might say."

"Interesting." His curiosity is certainly piqued. "Has any research been done as to it's cause and symptoms?"

"Yes," Teja says. "It is caused by some germs that are contagious, and the main symptoms, beside the ordinary cold, is that one would think oneself another than one truly is, consistently so."

"And are any quarantine procedures in place? One would think with hallucinations so severe that would be wise." Not that medicine is his area of expertise. He's more of a tinkerer than a physician or student of biology.

Teja points to the notice, prominentl displayed on the board. "I think the hallucinations are unique to Milliways; it has to do with all the worlds an realities one may reach from here," he says. "We had this before. Apart from bruised prides, nothing remains."

He glances over the notice and nods.

"I suppose with such varied regions and worlds converging in one place unusual illnesses would crop up." They are lucky that 'embarrassment' is the worst of it.

"One would think," Teja says, "that much worse things could enter -- what if one of those that come from a broken Earth of the future would bring the plague that wiped much of their mankind? We are lucky if the worst that ever comes are flu, or artifacts, or zombies."

"Zombies?" His chuckle turns into a coughing fit.

"You've been watching too many horror flicks, man." Shaking his head, he takes a drink of tea, making a face at it. Why the hell did he order tea?

Shaking his head, his expression shifts once again and he sets the tea cup down, carefully adding another sugar cube.

"As a member of security I am sure that such things are of large concern to you, yes?"

"They are," Teja says. "It is my duty to keep the rules, and keep patrons as safe as we may. But safe as such, this place is not. It is, after all, the kind of place where the third rule would even be needed."

"I see your point. Well, should it mean anything to you, I see this establishment as one that is fairly well maintained, and regard it as one of the safer places I have ever been." He gives a nod to mark his point and as a tip of gratitude to Teja and those he works with for making it so.

"Well, thank you!" Teja says, with a small smile.

"It is a compliment well deserved," he assures Teja, returning the smile.

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