(no subject)

[nerves_of_ice]

Planning's one of the most important parts of any good mission, and this one matters more than most. He'd sent out a few feelers through secret channels, fishing for contacts, fishing for information ... fishing with himself as both the lure and the hidden hook.

Earlier today, someone had finally taken a nibble. He'd taken the intel he needed from the dead body.

Now, his waiting's done. It's time for the next step.

But before he goes, there are a couple of things he needs to do, just in case. Where he's going, he can't count on having ready access to Milliways, and among other things, he's made a promise.

James strolls into the bar dressed like a nondescript civilian - jeans, short-sleeved dark blue t-shirt under a black jacket, black boots - and glances around the room before heading to the bar.

"Coffee," he requests, and sets down a few dollars cash, plus a small envelope. "The note's for Jay. The mechanic. You know him, right?"

Evidently Bar does, for the envelope vanishes into her keeping. James nods his thanks and takes a seat with a good view of the room, keeping an eye out for anyone he might know... or who might know him.

[ooc: open until it scrolls.]

Comments

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve has been hanging around the bar a lot lately. (Just sort of quietly, in the background.)

There are a few faces he's always happy to see. Bucky's is one of them.

He approaches Bucky with a casual, "Mind if I join you?" as he takes his sketchbook out of his jacket pocket.

[nerves_of_ice]

He pushes out the next stool over with his foot.

"Sure," he says, just as casually.

"Whatcha drawing tonight?"

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"The continuing adventures of the Growling Commandos," Steve says as he opens the sketchbook. "I'm thinking I might put it online anonymously or soemthing, see what people think.

"Chocolate egg cream," he tells the Bar.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Anonymously, huh?"

James slants a look at him.

"What, you don't want your fame attached to your art?"

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Oddly enough, no," Steve says easily. "I'm hopeful people read it because they like it, not because it's drawn by Captain America."

[hasthehighground]

The Clint who backs into the bar, opening it with his shoulder, is part-way through eating a doughnut with his left hand and a Styrofoam cup full of instant coffee in his left hand.

Clint leans up against the counter near him, dropping off his coffee to be immediately rewarded with a mug of much better coffee. He grins at James, and raises the mug to him in acknowledgement before taking a grateful sip. "Morning."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Morning," he says, nodding a hello.

(Hey, if the other guy can be casual, so can he.)

He glances at the doughnut, then back at Clint.

"Breakfast?"

[hasthehighground]

"I make a mean waffle, but free doughnuts are free doughnuts."

[nerves_of_ice]

"As long as they're not stale," he returns, utterly deadpan.

[girlwithout]

At some point, the door to the more nature-filled Outside of Milliways opens, and a familiar redhead and her dog come through. She's wearing her Christmas presents from him, although it's not really cold enough right now to warrant all of them with her jacket.

(It's possible she kinda doesn't like feeling cold right now.

She figures she's earned it.)

[nerves_of_ice]

James smiles, sudden and bright.

"Rikki, hi."

[girlwithout]

She grins back at him while Benji trots up to snuffle at his legs. "Hey. How've you been?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Not bad," he allows, and reaches down to ruffle the pup behind his ears. "How about you?"

[onceaviking]

Eric often forgets faces. Especially if they are faces he has no particular interest in.
He doesn't forget heartbeats though. The individual scents when skin and blood combines into a signature.


Of course, coming here, these things sometimes change as well.

Which is the main reason he asks, "Taken?" and nods at the chair next to the guy in black and blue. Because he feels the way a human might feel if they could almost - almost - place a face.
It's really annoying.

Tall. Pale. Wearing really tight black jeans and an even tighter tank top.

[nerves_of_ice]

Especially, perhaps, when one arm's replaced with gleaming metal; when memory's shattered into fragments.

Fragments that apparently don't contain any reflection or recollection at all of the blond man, to judge from the swift once-over James gives him - which is followed by a shrug of the right shoulder and a nod of his own at the chair.

"Yours, if you want it."

[onceaviking]

Eric sits down and orders the usual.
The usual apparently comes in a bottle with a black and red label.

He doesn't drink right away though. Instead he lets his eyes move around the room. Who knows - an alternative might present itself.

If he looks predatory, it is perhaps mostly the way men looking around at the other patrons at a bar might look predatory. It might carry a hint of something else as well.

[nerves_of_ice]

James watches this. His gaze narrows, just slightly.

"Looking for someone?"

[cutting_edgex23]

X is careful to approach from the front, in clear view, even if she keeps her footsteps silent.

(Possibly she just forgot to make noise.)

"James."

Beat.

"You are working?"

It's the civilian clothes that make her ask. It's very -- unobtrusive.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Not right now I'm not," he says - easily, without hesitation. It's not even a lie; his work doesn't start again until he crosses back through the door.

"Hey, Joe."

[cutting_edgex23]

She only looks a little startled, and that just for a second.

"Okay."

Beat.

"Company is acceptable?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Sure."

He pushes out a chair for her.

[lionlike_tabby]

"And no Fizzing Whizbees in detention," a teenager in immaculately plain black robes says sternly over her shoulder, "I don't care if you did bring enough for everyone!"

She turns, sees where she is, and lets out a breath. "Thank Merlin's frilly knickers."

Between her second extra class with Professor Dumbledore this week and rescuing first-years from Peeves, Minerva hasn't had breakfast this morning.

Not yet, anyway.

She sweeps up to the bar, looking very dignified and elegant... until one of the books in her arms hits the floor, skidding to a stop at James's feet. (The cover is purple and reads Human Transfiguration: An Advanced Summary.)

"Oh, bollocks."

Well, she's not a professor yet. And Milliways means off-duty, even from being head girl.

[nerves_of_ice]

James looks down at the book, then up at the girl, scrutinizing her carefully.

He gets up from his chair, crouches down to snag the book with his left hand, and holds it out to her.

"Yours?"

Very, very dry.

[lionlike_tabby]

She's tall and, even at eighteen, still verging on the gangly, with long black hair pulled back tightly in a waist-length plait; discreet Gryffindor and Head Girl badges are pinned neatly to severe, ankle-length black robes. Her sole concession to fashion is discreet but expensive ruby studs in each lobe, which catch thr light as she turns to give him a brief, assessing glance through oval spectacles.

"No," she tells him dryly, and holds out her hand for the book. "I just felt like swearing this morning."

Nothing about either statement is technically a lie, to be fair.

"Thank you."

Despite the title, the book is several inches thick; a library slip for McGonagall, M can be seen peeping out.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Welcome."

He hands the book over, a glint of steel-bright metal flashing at his wrist as he does. If he's taken note of the name, it's not evident.

"I'm guessing you're a student."