(no subject)

[lt_blade]

When Sonya found herself in milliways, she's still on a crutch, but a single one rather than having to use two. She's in the bar especially just to have a break from military bureaucracy and from men that she's sure are good, but not for the Special forces. It's one of the few times she' hates her job.

She doesn't mean to stay long, until she finds at her table a cocktail napkin saying that it's her turn for happy hour.

"This is your condition for letting me stay those past few nights?" Another napkin appears with a smiley face. "Find, but I do get a choice of what goes."

Finding a book of cocktail recipes under the bar, she gives it a quick look over before writing out a selection on the board.

Happy Hour Specials:

Bocca Ball
Presbyterian
Gin and Tonic

Non-alchoholic beverages:
Fountain drinks
Coffee
Tea

20% off for Military Personnel (please show ID)
'additional' 10% off for any interesting 'scar' stories.

A random selection of drinks to be sure, but she wasn't in the mood to select anything more complicated, and she definitely wanted people to know there were non-alcoholic drinks to be offered.

Comments

[street_sparrow]

"What are fountain drinks?" Gavroche asks, after an interested glance at the specials board.

[lt_blade]

"Soft fizzy drinks. In this case there's pepsi, coca cola, dr. pepper, sprite, and root beer." She motioned over to the fountain machine right by the bar. "They're served from a mechanical fountain, hence the name."

The kid's age was hard to tell, so to be safe she steered him in that direction. "Coca cola's popular if you're unsure."

[street_sparrow]

About sixteen, he isn't entirely sure himself, and looking younger, so safe is good. "Oh, I've had coca-cola, it's good. That, then, please, and I've got a scar story?"

[lt_blade]

Using a metal scoop, Sonya filled a glass with ice before using the gun to pour in some coke.

"Sure, lets here it." That he looked young wasn't strange: lord knew she had her won fair share of stories by his age.

The glass is set on top of a napkin and she slides it over to him.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"I've little idea what any of those are, bar coffee, which seems favoured by the Dalmascans and Rozarrians but which I personally find foul, and tea," Sherral remarks, sitting down. "So I will have tea, if you will."

He pauses, then produces from the rather heavy grey jacket he's wearing a card shaped reddish crystal. When he gives it a tap, an image of him appears on one side, and 'CPT. SHERRAL MADUIN, IMPERIAL 8TH FLEET, RABANASTRE WEST GARRISON (CO)' followed by identification number and several other symbols, along with a large seal.

At the bottom are signatures reading 'FORIS ZECHT, JDG1' with an x next to it, 'TARQUIN AUGUST GHIS, JDG1' and 'HOGAR RONICK, MAJ'

"My ID."

[lt_blade]

Well, that was new. "And here I was thinking of something as mundane as an ID card or a set of tags." Really, she'd been in milliways way too long for something like this to not phase her.

She filled a mug with hot water from the machine and set in a tea bag. "You want anything with it? Milk, sugar or lemon?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral plucks the crystal up, turning it over. "This is fair mundane in my world," he remarks wryly, and stows it away.

"Some milk, perhaps. I'm not keen on sweetening my tea."

[lt_blade]

Sonya pulled out a milk cartoon and poured it into a small metal pitcher, setting it by his mug. "What sort of world are you from anyway?"

She wondered if the crystal actually worked via magic or some form of science with the use of holograms.

[vorpatril]

Ivan's in his neat green uniform with the red captain's pip and loosening his rather high collar with a yawn when he sees the board.

He smiles as he pulls his ID from his wallet, it reads Captain Lord Ivan Xav Vorpatril, Barrayaran Imperium, OPs, then lists serial number and other data, "What's in the Bocca Ball?"

[lt_blade]

"Vodka, amaretto, soda water, and orange juice." She recalled from the booklet she'd found under bar. "But if you're yawning like that, then you're getting either coffee or tea"

Customers be damned, she wasn't giving 'downers' to someone who was still waking up.

[vorpatril]

"Why? My shift's over, all the meetings worked with only some sniping,"

A drink after work is what he wants and he doesn't have any dinner parties to attend and be good for.

[lt_blade]

She supposed he had a point: long shifts could leave one yawning as much as they could when waking up.

"Fine. One bocce ball?" Since he was interested in that option in the first place. "Or one of the other choices."

[diehard_daniel]

"I will take a coke," said Daniel settling onto a stool.

[lt_blade]

She filled a glass up with ice before filling it with coke, setting it on a napkin before giving it to him.

"Since we've already met, you don't need to show me your ID." Well, that and the BDUs he wore were pretty military even if she didn't recognize what the patches meant.

[diehard_daniel]

"I just work for them," said Daniel, "Technically I am a civilian contractor."

[lt_blade]

"Close enough." He worked with them long enough for connections and earning the write to where armor. As far as she was concerned, it still counted. "How'd you get working for the military anyway, if you're not a direct servicemen."

[hecu_marine]

"All's I'm lookin' for tonight's a bottle of Cold Trail ale," says Shephard, who has frankly had enough of distilled liquor and mixed drinks to last him a while. Damn Scandinavians. "You got any of that back there?"

[lt_blade]

"Give me a minute and I'll check." Though this was bar and she was pretty sure she could find anything from any time period in this place.

Sure enough, she found a bottle of the stuff right in part of the cold section of the bar. Finding a bottle opener, she pulled the cap off and slid it over to him, along with a glass of ice. "This work?"

[hecu_marine]

"Fine by me," says Shephard. "You mind me payin' in rabbit skins or somethin'? We ain't got what you'd call a real viable currency back home just at the moment, but Bar don't give me shit when I bring the furs in."

[runningred]

"Hey." Jay greets her with a smile. "Any particular reason you're playing the scar game?"

[lt_blade]

"Oldie, but goodie." She answered, cleaning off some glasses from previous customers. Every time she went with the men to the local watering hole, the topics never varied beyond either memories of home, girl friends or recovering scar stories.

"You want anything?"

[runningred]

"A Presbyterian please? Sounds drinkable. So what's the best scar story you've heard so far?"

[inspector_blueeyes]

"I'm afraid I'm no-longer a serviceman but I still carry my dogtags." He pulls them from under his shirt.

[lt_blade]

"Active or retired." Hell, she'd probably give him the discount anyway, but it was a good reason as any to check. He might've just kept the tags for sentimental reasons. "Or you could give me a really good scar story and call it even."

[inspector_blueeyes]

"Honourably discharged. The war I served in ended and I was moved on to law enforcement." His tags are worn, clearly kept close even after all this time.

He considers for a long moment, his sleeve pulled down over his wrists. "Of my own scars or others?"