milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Melpomene, ageless (or maybe late 30s, if you didn't know any better), stone-faced, clatters into the bar in muddy boots and a drenched peacoat.

She's bewildered, at first - why here, now, when there's so much to be done? - but quickly finds her way to an armchair by the fire. You can find her there shortly, rubbing her cold hands together and drying the coat on the back of her chair.

All this scene needs is an interlocutor. (That's your cue.)

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She shakes her head a little, but her cheeks are still red.

"Neither did I. He's been actin' strange of late. Ever since his world was destroyed."

More so since Loki arrived.

She takes a breath, smiling tightly and then frowning a little.

"I hope it doesn't upset you t'know all this. I know you two were close."

"No, no. Don't worry about me."

She quirks a brow, exhaling a thick smokestack to conceal any emotion that might be leaking out in spite of herself.

"Tell me about your beau."

It's an effective redirection. Kate's all concern until the request sinks in and she finds herself a little stunned.

Mel's the first person she's volunteered this information with, and she's not sure what that means.

"Well, I—"

She laughs, a little disarmed.

"Ah, he's a firefighter. We met almost two years ago. But it ain't — um, I think he's jus' as heart-sore an' hung up on a past love as I am. I reckon, in a way, that makes us well-suited for each other. But we aren't sure where it's goin'."

She manages to keep a straight face - almost unnaturally so.

It's just that the way Kate describes this budding relationship reminds Melpomene of exactly how she might have described her own with Weyland, if someone had asked... before.

Melpomene turns back, with a small, bright smile.

"The journey's half the fun."

Kate questions the smile, but not out loud.

"I s'pose."

She laughs, and shakes her head. The journey's been interesting so far. Good, bad, and everything in between. And, right now, Tommy thinks he's some Midwestern boy named 'Wayne'.

Thank you, Milliways.

"It's not the sorta thing I ever expected, but since Doc — well, I've grown up some, I s'pose. Seen more'a the world. An' Tommy fills up the empty spaces."

Melpomene doesn't know that whole story - the Doc one - but she decides not to ask.

That was then, and this is now.

"Sounds nice." She adds, "Aside from what sounds like a bad case of the flu-gone-wrong."

Melpomene's not sure if she should be glad she missed that one or not.

Kate chuckles dryly.

"I'm hopin' it passes soon. I remember bein' ill a few years ago myself, an' thinkin' I was a woman named Scarlett. I had a blue wig an' a — well, an almost nonexistent wardrobe."

Certainly not Kate's usual cup of tea at all.

"Now, how 'bout you? I don't wanna go on 'bout myself; there must be somethin' new since I last saw you."

Melpomene thinks about the tragic things that have happened in New York in the past few years. There've been a lot.

She goes with the most innocuous: "Well, there was a hurricane."

"Goodness, a terrible one?"

Kate will keep an eye out for a waitrat. Some hot drinks and comforting food might be in order.

She makes a wavering motion with her hand.

"I've seen worse."

She winces.

For all the years Melpomene has been alive, Kate can only imagine.

"You're not jus' comin' in from that, are you?"

She gestures to Mel's wet clothes, and finally catches a waitrat's attention. She waves it over, and orders two cups of hot cocoa, a couple of shots of whiskey, and a basket of fried paradoxes.

Melpomene looks down. At least her clothes are finally drying a little.

"No," she laughs. "This is just normal weather, if you can believe it."

She leans into the fire, cold again with the conversation focused back on the wet and chill in her core.

"Unfortunately, I'm not waterproof."

Kate chuckles lowly.

"I'd prefer t'be snow-proof, my own self."

She wasn't built for these cold climes. She endures it well enough, but she'd rather be in the desert.

"Or bullet-proof, for that matter."

Her mouth quirks, thinking of the long list of half-gods and naiads exempt from bullets.

"I'm afraid you got the genetic short stick on that one. Though if the gods felt really sorry for you, they could probably make you immortal."

She lets out a quiet burst of laughter, like the sudden murmuration of birds.

"I'd hafta pass on that. I ain't got no interest in livin' forever."

Some days it's hard just making it to the next.

"What part'a the world are you in now?"

She smiles, but there's a kind of sadness behind it.

"Sometimes I wish they'd asked me about it first."

She leans back into her chair.

"I'm still in New York. I'm feeling restive, though, so it's just a matter of time before I'm elsewhere."

Kate's lips twist up in lopsided sympathy.

"I've finally been t'New York myself, now. Though, not in my time. I might've seen a city close t'what you see."

The waitrat returns with the snacks and drinks.

"If y'ever get the itch t'travel, I've settled in a town for a spell. I can have folk out from time t'time."

"That'd be nice," she says, taking up the warm drink gladly.

"I feel I haven't seen enough of the worlds, considering how many people I've encountered here, in the bar."

"Oh? You must've traveled some."

There's a question in the words, and it's mirrored by the eager light in her eyes. She'd love to hear about some of the places Mel has seen.

"I've been a few places. It's been a while, though."

Seeing the eager expectation in Kate's face, she relents and adds:

"I've mostly been to other versions of Earth."

Kate can be persistent when she wants to, but she always does it with a smile.

"So've I, so far as I know. Some strange versions, though."

The Wasteland was particularly unnerving.

"D'you — would y'rather not talk 'bout things back home? I'd be happy t'talk 'bout somethin' else."

"No, we can talk about whatever you want to. I'm just -"

There's a long, pregnant pause.

Then she lets her hand drop to her side, and shakes her head.

(In short, Melpomene's being a total emo right now.)

"Sorry, I'm in a weird frame of mind. I think a good amount of alcohol is in order."

She takes a turn to look around for a waitrat.

Kate picks up one of the whiskey shots, and swiftly passes it over. They were meant for the cocoa, in case Mel needed some extra warming up, but hell with that right now.

"I know it's been a while, but y'can still tell me whatever's on your mind. I ain't changed. I'll keep your secrets."

She smiles wanly, and joins in the hunt for a waitrat.

Her mouth relaxes slightly, into a brief smile.

"It's not you. But... old habits die hard."

She raises her glass, then tips it back in one gulp.

"I'm not good at expressing myself. Ironic."

She laughs dryly.

"You're preachin' to the choir, sugar."

Without missing a beat, she passes over the last shot. She can wait for the waitrat to bring fresh ones.

"Luckily, once havin' been a schoolteacher makes me skilled at figurin' things out. Start wherever it's easiest."

Melpomene gratefully downs the other shot, waiting for the buzz to kick in.

"It's just... you know, I was gone for a few years, but every so often -"

She pauses, trying to find a way to say this without sounding weak, or crazy.

"I used to go back to the bar where I first found Milliways, sometimes, just to see if I could get back. Because... I wanted to see Weyland again."

Melpomene reaches, maybe without realizing, for another drink, and manages to find the hot cocoa instead. (She doesn't want to remember confessing anything even remotely sentimental, much less something so deep and secret as this.)

Kate feels a sharp pang.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

She reaches over, placing her hand on Melpomene's arm. She hates thinking she upset her, but she would've hated not saying anything when she had the chance to warn her, too.

"It's pro'ly cold comfort t'say I know what that feels like. Bein' locked out, an' hopin' beyond hope that someday — well. It ain't about me."

She lightly squeezes her arm.

"I dunno where he is, but I'd happily hunt 'im down for you."

Take that as you will.

Melpomene shakes her head, retreating.

"No, that's not necessary."

She smiles tightly. "These things happen. The world continues turning."

... and if there's anyone who knows about such things, it's Melpomene.

Her brow creases when Melpomene smiles.

She purses her lips, and shakes her head slightly.

"There's nothin' wrong with wantin' t'see him. Whether Muses are really so different from the rest of us or not, the heart wants what it wants, an' there ain't no shame in that."

The waitrat comes back with a bottle this time. Good bourbon whiskey.

"The heart is a troublemaker," she mutters, into her cup.

That about summarizes the human experience, in her opinion.

(And it's eerie, sometimes, how human the gods can be.)

She can't help but chuckle.

"I ain't arguin' with you there. But the fact that you've got one don't make you weak."

Kate's intimate with that feeling. She'd rather Mel not have to bottle it all inside if she can help it.

That, itself, is like poison.

Oh, and doesn't this muse know it.

"Thanks for saying so."

She flashes a smile - a real one, this time - and refills the glasses, pushing one towards Kate this time.

"You're one of the few people around here who knows I've actually got a heart at all, I think."

She relaxes when she sees the change in her smile. It allows her to smile in return, and pick up the proffered glass.

"I'll never tell."

She winks, breathing a laugh into her glass as she gladly helps herself.

"If y'can't depend on somebody who's been there before, who can you depend on?"

"Good point."

Melpomene lifts her glass. "Cheers to that."

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