milliways_bar | (no subject)

The change in the weather and the trees should have been the first thing he noticed, but it wasn't. Half-asleep in the saddle, it's not until Cortez picks up the pace at the sight of the barn that Doc realizes that he's no longer riding through Washington Territory.

"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch," he mutters. "About damn time."

He shakes a layer of snow from his hat and coat after dismounting from the horse; once he's made certain that Cortez is situated with fresh water and feed in a dry stall, Doc shoulders his bags and heads for the bar. He's not bathed in some time, his hair is shaggy and his beard hasn't been tended to lately either.

Lighting up a cigarette as he drops into a booth near the fireplace, he motions for a waitrat.

"I want dinner," he tells the rat. "Real dinner, none of that shit I've been eatin' the last six months. And a pot of coffee -- good coffee, if you please."

Doc drops a worn banknote on the rat's tray as it scurries off. He figures it won't hurt to tip from the get-go, after how long it's been since he's haunted these parts.

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"Aye, 'e did from the king. Nay, it doesna but glad to be in Nottingham an makin' it better,"

They're doing what needs to be done, now just with the king's approval.

"There's a lot t'be rebuild, trust to be regained...it'll take time, but it'll be made right."

At least, Doc hopes that is the case. Though with the way Will has always spoken of Richard the King, he's not all too concerned about it at the moment. But men can (and do) change.

"Appears that nothin' too horrid has happened here in my absence," he adds, pouring them both a coffee.

"I 'ope so, I think it will be. Nay, dinna think so, but I've been 'ere 'bout as much as ye the past few months,"

Will trusts in Robin who has been trained to lead and now he can.

"I reckon if I run into anyone else familiar, they'll let me know if the lake boiled sulfur or the moon did circles in the sky."

Or whatever crazy nonsense that this damn bar felt like getting up to.

Dinner arrives, and given the way the rat struggles with the tray, you'd think that Bar was convinced that neither of the men ordering had eaten in a week. (More true in Doc's case than Will's, however.) It's comfort food - for Doc, at least - fried catfish, a mix of vegetables, potatoes and gravy, and biscuits.

"Thank the Lord above," Doc mutters, reaching for a plate.

"Amen," Will says then starts pouring out the coffee,

"I'm even aidin' with the clerkin' cause I know 'ow to read an write. Makin' me wish I didna know, its bloody confusin'."

"I hated gradin' papers," Doc admits. "Back when I was teachin'. And it wasn't even that difficult."

He prefers his efforts in writing to be on his own time, his own train of thought - though it's been months since he's tried anything creative.

"Oh aye, its lookin' o'er land disputes that 'avena been seen for years. 'ave to be fair an right an its all a mess."

"Is it somethin' like water rights, or you just got people sayin' that the lines ain't straight across their territory or what? I'd have figured it'd be less of a mess in your era than mine."

"Some o'its boundaries but others who owns what. Sheriff took it all but it wasna 'is right. So we're tryin' to sort it out an get folks back to what's theirs."

"Quite a predicament, though hope it'll get sorted in time like the rest of it."

Doc is glad that is one stack of paperwork he won't ever have to touch. The idea of having to file for a land claim up North sometime in the next year is cause enough for a headache.

"Oh aye, but Tuck knows good bit 'bout it. 'e used to deal with land records when 'e was in an abbey."

"Are the rest of the men still doin' well?"

"Oh aye, some o''em 'ave left but John, Allan, Tuck an Much are around. Robin an Marian 'ave married finally, its good to 'ave 'er around."

"Now we'll just have t'work on getting you a girl," he points out, a hint of a smile on his face. "Round up a handful of little red-haired imps of your own."

"I've met someone 'ere, dinna see 'ere often but ye'd like 'er. Maria 'ill, we're 'avin' fun,"

Which suits him for now, he does want a family but he's not ready yet, not until things are more settled.

"You'll have to introduce us." Doc will be insistent about it - if only to make sure that Will doesn't get himself into any trouble that he can't get out of.

(Though they've both grown up, here in Milliways, and are likely to be smarter about the women they let into their lives.)

"Aye, I will. Ye'll like 'er, she's brave an smart,"

And has her own troubles so understands some of how Milliways changes everything.

"So she's like you, then," Doc says. "That could be good."

Or bad, he does not say. Will doesn't need that.

"I'm happy for you," he adds, honest.

"Aye, I think it could be, we're still figurin' it out. What are ye doin'? Found any new sort o'trouble?"

"Not lately," Doc says, and he's glad to be able to say that. "I'm headed up North at the moment, got another few weeks of travel ahead of me by horse, 'til I get to the coast."

"'eadin' anywhere in particular or just goin'?"

"Yukon territory," he says. "They say there's gold up there, that ain't been mined out yet, and I'm lookin' for honest work."

"Miners always need aid. I 'ope ye can find somethin'."

"Either stake a claim of my own or maybe open up a store..." Doc shrugs. "Tunstall had a store back in Lincoln that I'd work at sometimes, I figure it'd be simple enough t'git going once I got the capital."

"Oh aye, my parents run a stall in the market, its simple an ye're in the midst o'it all."

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