milliways_bar | (no subject)

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After his "conversation" with the Dark Dragon and Mia's subsequent tongue-lashing, Autor found himself chastened and in need of a bracing cup of tea. He picks up a face mask for protection from the flu and soldiers out to see if his worries about Oswin and Rae being infected are well-founded.

Catch him out and about in the main bar.

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"Not unless you got some super space version." Bonnie says. "One of my boys, Dallas, he was with us because his parents had... what's it called... consumption - they would only let him see his folks for five minutes at a time with a mask on."

She looks interested at the prospect of the garage. Though the temptation to tinker may be a bit strong.

Autor wrinkles his nose. "Consumption?" he says, and then shudders. Still, he does half-heartedly pluck the mask off his face. "The garage, if you're looking for it, is through that door and down the elevator--a steel box made of death and falling, I say, though no one ever agrees with me."

He sips his tea. "I bet Bar can give you some nice tools, though they'll go on your tabs board, over there."

"Cain't imagine the owners will be too pleased if I start dismantling cars from the future." Bonnie says, chuckling. "But thank you."

"So does this place 'pick you up' often, or are you stuck here too?"

"No, I haven't been Bound for a while," he says, glancing at his door just in case. "I'm lucky enough to have a door which remains stable for the most part, so I can come and go as I please. Some people remain Bound for a few days; others for weeks or months. Do you have a room here?"

"A room?" Bonnie echos.

"You mean I could be stuck overnight?"

"You could," he says, waving a hand. "I was stuck for months when I first arrived. I think there may be a fund for people who are Bound, but I could be wrong on that. To rent a room, all you need is a key from Bar."

Bonnie hesitates. She's not very well off, a combination of bringing home too many mouths to feed and too much junk to play with.

"Is there any way to earn my keep?"

"I'm sure that someone with your skills will be able to find a job somewhere," he says, raising his cup. "You can advertise on the bulletin board, or pick up odd jobs from other people. I'd worry more about getting settled in first."

"It's a bar, what's the worst that can happen?"

Autor stares at her for a while. "Zombies," he says softly. "Zombies are the worst that can happen."

He drains his tea and sets it down. "This is a place of safety, most of the time, but when it isn't, it really isn't."

"...zombies?"

Autor immediately folds his hands and drops them into his lap. "That's what I said," he says, and then shrugs quickly. "But it's extremely unlikely that they'll come back, and before them it had been a while before a large scale disaster hit."

He twiddles his thumbs. "Really, there's little you need to worry about--the bar is generally a safe space, except when it isn't, and the times when it isn't are rare."

"What do I do if it happens?" Bonnie asks.

She doesn't appear to be entirely terrified, but she is pulling a rather stretched face.

Oh, this is not how Autor expected this introduction to go.

"Depends on the disaster," he says, holding his hands up, palms out. "In the case of the zombies, there were a lot of volunteers to put them down--a great many people here are heavily armed or have special powers. But you don't need to worry too much. Really."

Bonnie watches him for a moment. He sure looks like someone telling the truth.

"Better get my tenth graders to build some more substantial catapults this year." she says at last, shaking her head.

Autor snorts, picking up his teacup to hide his smile in it. "You can if you like, though I imagine they'd be bulky to carry around in case of the rare disaster," he says. "Should you ever get injured, we do have an infirmary here, too, staffed voluntarily. It's over there."

"I dunno, you tell a teenager to build something to destroy their opponant's fort and you'd be surprised how dangerous they can make it." Bonnie muses.

She looks over towards the infirmary, and nods.

"I'll bear that in mind if I ever lose another toe."

The amused twist to Autor's lips should inform Bonnie that he's thinking on just such a venture.

Her comment, however, jolts him out of thought. "Another toe? What happened to the first one you lost?"

"One of my boys accidentally ran over the edge of my foot when we tried to test out a motorcycle we just repaired. It got crushed real bad." She shakes her head. "Lucky I only lost one toe to be honest. I think Bill was more shocked than I was, he went a real nasty colour."

Autor winces, and then nods. "Is Bill your husband, then?"

Bonnie nods.

She doesn't correct to 'was'. Far as she's concerned, Bill will be alive in her heart as long as she lives.
If you don't think of the house as empty, and you don't complain, you'll get through.

"Big like an ox, soft like a kitten." she says, fondly. "We were always safe out on the road with him being so big, nobody would bother us."

Autor tilts his head. "Are the roads particularly dangerous where you are?"

"If we came across a rival biker gang, it could be."

"Biker gang?" he asks, furrowing his brow. "Oh, you mean the motorcycle riders? Interesting. I didn't know that people formed cadres based around their bikes. Are there a great many of these motorcycle rider gangs?"

"Oh sure, when I was young we spent all out weekends out with the gang. But as we got older, we all got jobs, and kids and such."