Happy Hour Enthusiasm

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Madame Bar?" Feuilly clears his throat and bends over the wooden surface, face going pink. Bahorel may have been joking about this. "Madame Bar, I would like to tend Happy Hour." Does he know what a Happy Hour is? Only vaguely! Has he been here a full 24 hours? Just barely! But by God, Feuilly is determined to meet people from other worlds.

He's relieved when a message on a paper napkin appears. It seems to be assent from the Bar? At any rate, it says Suggested Special: Cosmopolitan and gives a recipe.

So Special: Cosmopolitan goes up on the chalkboard, and he starts finding bottles. Vodka? That's Russian, isn't it? And...cranberry juice...triple sec...?

Comments

[myshootingstar]

"Want a hand with that?" Minx asks, smiling warmly. She's tall, long legged and beautiful, even if she's leaning heavily on a walking stick and moving with a limp. "Cosmopolitans are my favourite."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Oh, I couldn't--" She should be sitting down; that looks like a new injury, not a long-time limp. He runs a hand through his hair. "Tell me if I'm doing it wrong?"

Feuilly gestures at the bottles he's collected. "I've never had a Cosmopolitan."

[myshootingstar]

She smiles and pulls up a stool at the bar, taking the weight off her leg. "Just follow the recipe the bar give you and you shouldn't go too far wrong."

She gives his arm a gentle pat. "We'll try it out together."

[tu_vas_triompher]

He's not sure what to make of the arm-patting, but it's clearly friendly, and he smiles a bit as he brings over the recipe and starts pouring juice. "Are they from your country? Your world?" Everyone seems to talk about worlds here.

[myshootingstar]

"I'm not quite sure which country the drink originates from but it's very popular in my world, yes. I'm from America. A south east city called Megacity."

"Ah, that's enough." She reaches out to guide him to stop. "Not too much of that or it'll be too sweet."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Megacity. I don't think I know that. What state is it in? Is America--" She looks like she must be from another time; is America still mired with slavery, he wants to ask, but can't think of a good way. "What year is it?"

--No wonder he's getting distracted from mixing drinks. Too many questions. He clears his throat and picks up the next ingredient; it's a good thing she's patient.

[myshootingstar]

"It's in Florida. In some worlds it's called Daytona Beach. I'm from the year 2008. What about you?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"The city is the same in many worlds?" That's something he hasn't thought of yet, multiple worlds that are nearly alike. "--Um. I'm French. From Paris, June of 1832."

[myshootingstar]

"Some of the worlds are similar. Just little differences or the same places by different names."

She holds a hand out to him, long fingers, perfectly manicured. "I'm Minx."

[mjolnir_retriever]

Here's a big dude coming.

...No, bigger than that. No, bigger. And shinier.

But he looks entirely genial! He bellies up to the bar, sets his hammer on the ground and himself on a stool (which looks tinier and more fragile now that he's on it), and announces, "I will have one of these Cosmopolitans."

It's the kind of voice that gets heard across parade grounds and vast halls; there's a certain declaiming tenor to it, even though it's actually pitched at an entirely reasonable volume for talking across a bar.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Yeah, and Feuilly here has all the height and breadth of someone who managed not to die as a nineteenth-century foundling. A combination of thick soles and concentrating on his posture can get him past five feet. With maybe some standing on tiptoe.


"...Yes. Of course, Monsieur."

He's not able to do witty banter while he mixes drinks, but at least he can mix a drink, given a recipe and some time for thought. He passes over the completed Cosmopolitan with visible relief. "Have you had one before?"

[mjolnir_retriever]

"I have not."

He looks at the pink thing with interest.

"Is it a drink of your home?"

Carefully, he has a sip. And... hey, it's pretty good! (This shows on his face.) Not gonna be a new favorite or anything, but pretty good.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"No..." He watches the guest drink, with some apprehension. But so far so good. "...Not as far as I know, anyway. I think the bar suggested it. But it has a good name."

Um. Tending bar means you get to make small talk, though, right? Once you've got the drinks bit sorted out? That's the whole point of this happy hour business, after all, right? "Where's home for you, Monsieur?"

[mjolnir_retriever]

"It's good," says Thor gravely, having seen (but not otherwise acknowledged) the apprehension. "Will you join me for the next?"

"My home is Asgard. Another realm than Earth."

He can't be certain that this guy is from Midgard, around Milliways, but he certainly seems human. So it's probably a reasonable assumption.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Asgard. The name doesn't mean anything to Feuilly--quite--but it'll nag at the back of his head until he can place it. If he can, and it's not just a matter of sounding like something else. Another realm that Earth makes recognition unlikely, no?

"I'm from Earth," he answers slowly. "A human." It's a strange way to mark your small personal identity: it belongs to the rhetoric of fraternity and equality, not individuality and difference. "From France," Feuilly adds, which comes somewhat more naturally.

[mjolnir_retriever]

Thor grins a little.

"A proud land, I'm told. You have countrymen here who do your home proud."

He knocks back about half the cosmopolitan, makes an appreciative face at the rest of the pink stuff in the glass.

"I'm not human, but I know many wise and valiant mortals."

[tu_vas_triompher]

His face brightens at countrymen. "There are several of us here! --Frenchmen, I mean." Feuilly isn't sure how to respond to wise and valiant mortals. "Have you met some of us? Enjolras, or--Bahorel?"

[mjolnir_retriever]

"Bahorel, yes." Thor approves a lot of Bahorel, from his general demeanor. "And the scholar Joly."

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly laughs a little. "I should probably be apologizing for Bahorel, but once you start that you'll never stop. --And yes, Joly is another friend." What's the danger in saying so here and now? "My name is Feuilly. And they're...not mortal where you come from, sir?"

[mjolnir_retriever]

"Not at all," Thor assures him, though he's still grinning. That's definitely the insult of a good friend, right there. "He's an honorable warrior, and a valiant drinker."

...Yep.

As for the other question, his mouth twists a little in equivocating thought; he sits back on his barstool, and drains the rest of his drink. "We can die. But we live far longer than your kind, and are far less vulnerable to injury or sickness."

[tu_vas_triompher]

...Feuilly laughs a little more, despite himself. "Yes. He's a valiant drinker." And, yes, an honorable--or at any rate a brave--warrior. But he's not sure he wants to talk about that. Bahorel, and all his friends, turned out very mortal indeed.

"And are you all warriors and drinkers at home?"

[mjolnir_retriever]

"If we all were, there'd be no cause for pride in either."

"But many of us. Asgard is renowned for its warriors and its feast table."

This is, in fact, entirely true, as well as Thor's partiality talking.

[tu_vas_triompher]

And now the name Asgard clicks with everything else. The feasting, the mortals business, the hammer.

Oh. Well. Right.

"Do--do you go to Earth sometimes?"