(no subject)

[schrodingerskatz]

The right term is probably "withdrawing." Less charitably, "avoiding." It's not that Beverly doesn't like the bar -- it's a nice bar -- but she prefers not to spend too much time in the main room. And going outside, where she's been told several times that violence is permissible by Security's rules, is out of the question. She's got some self-preservation instincts, despite all -- pardon the phrase -- evidence to the contrary.

And she hasn't slept well since she got here.

But tonight, for once, she's lingering at the bar after her dinner, with her elbows leaned back on the counter, and her gaze moving idly over the bar's patrons.

"Hey, Bar," she asks, "can you recommend a really good beer?"

It's a bar -- might as well drink.

Comments

[sunbaked_baker]

There's a red-headed woman moving around the bar, a large tray balanced against her hip, a blue, sunflower-dotted apron protecting her lime green tank-top and orange jean shorts. The tray, carefully balanced, holds various baked goods, from powdered sugar-dusted lemon bars, to gooey caramel confections, dark chocolate cakes as deep and rich as sin, strawberry meringue cookies the size of one's fist, and cinnamon rolls each roughly the size of a humans skull.

The woman is making her way around the bar, carrying the tray as one used to carrying trays of baked goods, going from table to table selling her baked goods. She greets most of the people she talks to with familiarity, and greets all of them with friendly good humor. The warm, sweet smells of the baked goods, especially the cinnamon rolls, follow her closely.

Having made the circuit, the woman's tray is partially depleted by the time she approaches and sets the tray down on the bar a little ways down from where Beverly sits.

[schrodingerskatz]

She can't be expected to ignore the smell of freshly baked goods, right? Come on.

"Those are for sale?"

[sunbaked_baker]

"They sure are," Rae smiles, turning to move the tray down the bar closer to where the other woman is sitting. "Anything you would like to try? There are Sunshine's Cinnamon Rolls as Big as Your Head, some Meringuamania and Caramel Cataclysms, a few Lemon Lecheries, one Chocoholia, a couple slices of Bitter Chocolate Death, a few more of Primordial Fudgecake, and... well, a few kinds of muffin left. Cranberry sprouted-wheat, blueberry almond, and strawberry oatmeal."

[schrodingerskatz]

"Uh, one of each?" she says with a grin.

"No, I'd explode. What's a Caramel Cataclysm? That sounds dangerous."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Only if you're diabetic," Rae replies, honestly. Fair warning. "The Caramel Cataclysms are these here."

The woman gestures to the crispy-chewy caramel confections, grouped together. Each is just big enough for two large bites, and look far too innocuous for their name. (That would be because the gooey cataclysm happens when you bite into them.)

"They were one of my first inventions, back when I first became a baker," she adds with a grin, tucking a stray wisp of hair - having escaped from the pink kerchief - behind her ear.

The woman's clothing and movements do little to hide the myriad scars marring the skin of her shoulders, arms, and upper chest. Sunshine is determined to get used to not hiding them, at least in Milliways, where they tend to gather less attention than they would at home. Most are scrapes and tears that might come with a nasty fall or three, but one large scar looks like some wild creature must have fallen down her arm, teeth-first. The lone burn scar looks like someone set a fine, red-hot necklace chain loosely about her neck.

One is a sickle-shaped knife scar - only partially hidden by the baker's tanktop - wide and shiny and well-healed, above her heart.

[hadyougoing]

"Really?" Ava is saying to the bar. "Nothing?"

She's wearing a slightly faded summer dress, a jacket thrown over it, and a pretty necklace decorated with a trio of gems. If you haven't seen her around much lately, well, the mun's she's been busy.

A napkin appears. Ava reads it and rolls her eyes.

"Okay, okay, I just thought maybe somebody might've dropped off one of the overdue Satan books."

[schrodingerskatz]

"--Overdue Satan books?" Beverly says out loud, before she can stop herself.

[hadyougoing]

Ava grimaces.

"The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows," she says to the cool chick, and looks briefly over her shoulder before turning back to face her. "It's supposed to be written by the Devil, or a devil, and if you summon him you get immortality or become invincible or something." She rolls her eyes. "We're supposed to have three in stock, but there's some weird cult that won't turn them back in."

[schrodingerskatz]

"Uh. Wow. Even around here that ranks pretty high on my list of weird."

She frowns. (The other woman looks kinda vaguely familiar, but she can't figure out why.)

"Are they one of those human sacrifice cults?"

[hadyougoing]

"I have no idea," Ava says, wearing a long-suffering look.

"I don't really think there's such a thing as a good cult? And this one seems especially insane."

Like, summoning Satan, really? There's nothing saying Satan's going to be feeling charitable when he shows up.

[starrydome]

Someone sits down next to her.

He is very tall, but not bulky. His features are incredibly symmetrical, and his hair is long and flowing. (It seems to move a little, even as he sits still). One ear is visible. It is gently leaf shaped.

His clothing is made of linen (worn smooth as silk) in the colours of dusk, the innermost layer a pale salmon, the outermost layer a deep, dark blue. There are no viable fastenings, except for a silver clasp close to his right shoulder. It's in the shape of a very stylized star and it is mirrored by the small silvery star pins in his dark hair. His boots are leather, well kept and worn.

He asks Bar for a glass of wine and a plate of -something. It appears and turns out to be small, cookie-like cakes covered with seeds.
His voice is rich. Warm. He sounds vaguely British but there is a lilt to his words that is closer to Finnish than anything else. And yet not at all.

When he turns his head and smiles at her, it is a friendly and honest smile.
He looks kind.

And his eyes are bright with the light of stars.



{ooc: I figured she might be ready. Let me know if you need something else for her to notice.}

[schrodingerskatz]

So . . . if she had to guess, she'd say alien or elf, based on the shape of the ears. In another bar she'd go with "cosplay enthusiast," but around here Occam's Razor supports "actually not human" more than it does "dresses up funny."

His smile's warm enough that she smiles back automatically, and lifts her beer bottle in greeting.

[starrydome]

He returns the toast with his glass of wine.

"I do not believe we have met here before?" he says and while it might sound like a lazy pick up line if someone else said it, coming from him it is just a polite way of starting a conversation.

He knows he hasn't seen her before. Elves have almost perfect recall.

[schrodingerskatz]

"Nope."

She would definitely remember him.

"I guess I'm still relatively new. Beverly Katz."

[starrydome]

He bows his head lightly. "Elrond Half-Elven."

[street_sparrow]

One of the smaller patrons is also people-watching. Sooner or later, it stands to reason, they're going to end up watching each other.

[schrodingerskatz]

When they catch each other's eye, Beverly grins and waves at him. It's still kind of weird to her that there are little kids at this bar, but she guesses it's just one of those things. No harm to it, apparently.

Long as Lecter stays away from them.

[street_sparrow]

He tilts his head, not quite as trusting as a child his age should be, but waves back.

[schrodingerskatz]

This doesn't quite exhaust Beverly's repertoire of ways to interact with kids this age, but it's close. Her siblings' kids are all still younger in this, at the age where peekaboo is acceptable entertainment.

Funny faces are always acceptable, though, right? If Price and Zeller are anything to go off of, anyway.

So when he waves back, she mugs, looking over one shoulder, then the other, then pointing at herself. Who, me?

[street_sparrow]

Funny faces do work, even on a boy trying really hard to act older than his years. He can't help laughing and nods, yes, you.

[collects_strays]

Some time after she has her beer, Graham steps up to the bar, next to her. He's wearing glasses, but slips them off as he approaches, and pockets them.

"Hey."

[schrodingerskatz]

It turned out to be a very good beer, from some version of Germany. Probably Germany. At least the writing on the label looks German?

Beverly half-smiles at him, nods to the stool next to her. "Hey."

[collects_strays]

He takes the seat, leaning slightly over it to look down one side.

"How are you?"

[schrodingerskatz]

"Surviving," she says, with wry cheer. "Taking advantage of my surroundings. You know, I'm not quite brave enough to try food from another universe, but drinking what the locals recommend has never steered me wrong."

She takes a swallow of beer. "How're you?"

[collects_strays]

"I'm fine."

Graham rubs at his eyes, trying to decide if it's a subject he wants to broach so quickly, but -

"I, um. Talked to Lecter."