(no subject)

[schrodingerskatz]

What a day. Beverly comes striding into the bar, hardly aware that she's not in her apartment until she's several steps inside. When the sounds of the bar register, she pauses, then heads for the counter.

"I need some very strong coffee, please." The mug appears; she hesitates and says, "And a single Scotch, too."

Maybe one of those will give her some idea of what to do next. Or at least make her feel a little less sick.

Comments

[street_sparrow]

"Bad day?" says the young man - well, boy, if we're being honest - further down the Bar, sympathetically.

If she looks carefully, there might be something familiar about his face.

[schrodingerskatz]

She glances over and does a bit of a double-take.

"--I'm going to get it this time," she says. "Jean -- Jean, right?"

She was, you know, on painkillers and slightly magically concussed last time, but she does remember him coming by.

[street_sparrow]

"Almost!" He grins, not in the slightest put out by the half-forgetting - she did warn him at the time, after all, and he probably wouldn't be anyway. "Jean-Philippe, as was, but I go by Gavroche now. How are you?"

[schrodingerskatz]

"Gavroche," she repeats, and gives him a game smile.

"Just tired. Work's been hellish. How're you doing?"

[street_sparrow]

"Ehn." He makes a face. "Pretty good, my work's not usually hellish, but - trying to make any kind of change at home and convince everyone to go along with it is herding cats."

[freedom_is_grey]

There's a white-haired woman seated a little farther down the bar. She has a staff strapped to her back, pointed ears, a black spiraling tattoo over her right eye, and an immense brown mabari hound resting just to the side of her barstool.

He has a deer haunch in front of him, and is going to town.

Ysalwen just has a mug of ale.

She turns to look at Beverly as the other woman places her order.

"I'm always glad that Bar doesn't believe in watering down the alcohol."

[schrodingerskatz]

"Isn't that the truth," Beverly says, wry, picking up her glass. "She takes care of her customers."

[freedom_is_grey]

"She really does."

Ysalwen's mouth twists in a crooked smile.

"I don't even have to ask for food for Liranan anymore. As you can see."

[schrodingerskatz]

Beverly leans over to get a look at the hound, her eyebrows going up. She even half-smiles.

"Well, hey, aren't you a puppy and a half."

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen grins.

"At least he's stopped growing, right?"

Liranan looks up from his haunch of deer and barks.

Twice.

He is the best puppy. Clearly.

[gotham_knocking]

Knox is nearby, nursing a beer and a second cup of hot coffee. Always good to see other people who mix coffee and alcohol.

"Good evening." Pause. "I think it's evening."

[schrodingerskatz]

Beverly raises her eyebrows, giving him a tired smile.

"Well, it's five o'clock somewhere. That's the important part."

[gotham_knocking]

"I never really followed that rule. It was more 'hey, I just worked all night and the sun is coming up, but I need a beer, so let's have one.'" He doesn't miss those days. Much. "Just meant I can never keep track of time here."

[schrodingerskatz]

"I can never keep track around here anyway. Never lines up with home."

She looks Knox over. "What line of work are you pulling all-nighters in?"

[gotham_knocking]

"Back then? Reporter. I still work in the news, but not the same way any more. Was on the crime beat. Crime likes to happen whenever. And they wanted the story in the paper in the morning." He hears that his current paper plans more items for the Internet. He bets that changes the whole idea of a deadline.

[collects_strays]

Farther down along the bar, Graham is already ahead of her.

The glass is empty, and for now, it stays that way. He rotates it between his fingers, watching the light catch along the rim.

He stops turning it when he hears her voice. But he doesn't look up.

[schrodingerskatz]

She downs a swallow of coffee and a sip of the Scotch -- two ways of warming up -- before looking around.

And freezing.



She reminds herself that throwing a glass at the floor would be a waste of good alcohol as well as unhelpful, takes a much larger drink, and stands.

[collects_strays]

Remaining still, and quiet, was once an effective if childish strategy of his to avoid attention. But that hasn't worked for him in a while.

Graham sets down the glass, but still doesn't look up

[schrodingerskatz]

Not this time, no.

She makes her way down and leans against the counter, folding her arms.

"Tell me," flat, "are we going to find your prints on Tier?"

[collects_strays]

"You should talk to Jack," he answers, matching her tone.

[buh_bye]

"Hello again Beverly," said Death, "How are you doing?"

Death has a beer with a skeleton on the label.

[schrodingerskatz]

"--Hi," she says, startled, and picks up her Scotch.

"I'm peachy."

This is what you might call sarcasm.

[buh_bye]

"Really?" asked Death with a slight smile, "Any good cases lately?"

Of course he knows about the museum and the horses.

[schrodingerskatz]

"More than I know what to do with, really. Winter seems to be bringing out people's creative sides."

[buh_bye]

"Oh?" asked Death with a look that belied his innocence of the matter, "And how is this?"

He sipped his beer.