milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Ethan has decided the Mississippi is a right nice traveling companion who gets a body quickly to where it is they want to go. He's now in New Orleans and preparing to travel across the great Atlantic itself. The best part, the peach to this whole mess, is that he's even found a perfect cover for his escape; a cover that even pays.

Which may explain why he's dressed in a such an outlandish fashion; a lemon yellow, calf-skin coat with brown fringe, a bright red shirt and kerchief, velvety, flowing locks of hair and a manly mustache. He's even wearing rouge on his cheeks, which twitch into a smile when he finds himself in Milliways. While he is getting paid now, visiting a bar that will let you pay later is just a better way to make your pay last that much longer.

[OOC: Likely to be slow but I've been quiet in bar long enough.]

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There's a young woman in modern clothes - a peacock-blue t-shirt, lime-green jean shorts and orange flip-flops - arranging a large tray of baked goods for sale, over by the bar. The sweet-spicy scent of warm, freshly baked cinnamon rolls is thick in the air, emanating from the gigantic rolls where gooey, melted cinnamon-sugar and homemade vanilla icing have pooled in the crevices.

The automatic gesture of a long-time patron of Milliways, the red-headed baker looks up as the door opens, glancing over her shoulder at the person entering the bar. The outfit easily earns a curious look, her eyebrows raised.

Edited 2014-08-01 21:53 (UTC)

Ethan can't help but notice such heavenly aromas and sights, and so he walks on over with a smile. "Can't says I've smelled such great baked goods in all my life. An' I beg you to never tell my momma I said that."

The baker's mild, friendly smile broadens into something truer as he speaks.

"I promise - your secret's safe with me," she replies, lifting a hand in a gesture like swearing a solemn oath.

Or, it would be solemn, if not for her grin. "Would you like to try one? They just came out of the oven a little while ago."

Ethan, a now professional entertainer, manages a more solemn act as he removes his hat and holds it over his heart.

"I would be rightly honored to do so. I can even offer some coin in exchange for the honor if you would prefer."

Rae has a face on which all her thoughts show up - she couldn't lie believably to save her life. Her smile registers honest friendliness and mild delight.

"Oh, well, we can call the first cinnamon roll a taste-test. How about that?" she says with a smile, offering up one of the humongous, gooey pastries on a plate. With a fork and napkin, too, if he's not one of the pull-it-apart-and-lick-one's-fingers-afterwards types.

"That thing could feed an entire village," Ethan nearly exclaims in surprise, and he's seen many a village that would appreciate food of such size. "It that really for one person?"

Edited (better icon usage) 2014-08-02 04:12 (UTC)

"It is, or they can be for sharing," she smiles. "I've regulars at the coffeehouse back home who buy a dozen and take a bag of cinnamon rolls with them to share with their friends and colleagues."

"Well, maybe I'll see how far I can get and save what's left. My name's Ethan Chandler, and I'd be right honored for the favor of your name. If you don't mind sharing, that is."

"Just be warned that cinnamon rolls don't keep too long," she warns, grinning. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Chandler. I'm Rae. Rae Seddon."

"Sunshine, to my friends."

"And do you work here at the end of the universe, Miss Seddon?" He asks, hoping someday he'll get the honor of being her friend.

"I'm as much a patron here as any, but I work in the kitchens and sell what I bake to pay off my room and board, while I'm here," she smiles. "It helps that I'm a baker back home, as well. What about you?"

"I'm currently taking employment as an entertainer, a sharp shooter to be exact. So folks can earn their drink, if they've a mind to?"

"Well, we have to pay for it one way or another," she replies, wry, "unless a patron is bound or underage, at least. There is a fund set up to provide for bound patrons, who can't leave, and children. I don't know how sharp-shooting pays, but I couldn't pay rent and bills and get food and such back home and pay for a room and food here on a baker's salary. I supplement it by selling my baking here as well."

Dorian Gray is sitting at a table, slowly sipping a glass of brandy.

When he sees the fellow in the theatrical 'Western hero' getup, he chuckles.

"Nice colours!"

And it's that nice dandy fellow he met before, though Ethan can't recall if he caught the fellow's name. Either way, he takes off his hat with a sweeping gesture and bows slightly at the waist. "I am now an entertainer. Calamity Hickok, cousin to ol' Wild Bill himself, at your service."

Dorian snorts with laughter.

"Hickok!!" he declares. "That must be the funniest name I ever heard. What calamity indeed!"

"Well, it'll serve well enough during performances. Speaking of names, I don't believe I got yours last time. I'm Ethan Chandler," he says offering his hand once he returns his hat to its place.

Dorian shakes it. "My name is Dorian Gray," he says. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Chandler."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Mr. Gray," Ethan responds. "Discover any new wonders here abouts?"

"More than you could possibly imagine," Dorian says. "I was told there even are talking unicorns. Theatrical offerings consisting entirely of squid. Two-wheeled machines like great mechanical race-horses. The wonders, as they say, truly never cease!"

Ethan half laughs and shakes his head.

"I guess wonders will never cease here. Unicorns? Really?"

"People have claimed so, but they may have been trying to pull my leg," Dorian says. "If I do see one, though, I'll try to have a little chat."

"Well, given the nature of some of the patrons I see abouts, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I wonder what it is unicorns would talk about though."

"I'm sure it will be mythical and relevant," Dorian says. "Perhaps not really relevant for us mere mortals, but I will try."

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