milliways_bar | (no subject)

It's been a long day at work and Tess wants nothing more than to go home. ...so she can continue working from there. When she pulls open the door to her office and steps through is when she realizes something is very wrong.

It doesn't look like a bar per se, certainly not like the ones on the outskirts of Smallville, but it most definitely isn't a club, either. She runs through her entire day in her mind: Did she touch anything unusual? Did she meet anyone unusual? Did anything even vaguely connected to Krypton or crystals happen? No, no, and - thank God - no.

Then the realization hits her. Clark, Chloe, Lois, and Oliver have spoken of this place before. She'd have felt left out if she cared, but she doesn't so it hasn't crossed her mind sine the last one of them mentioned it. Tess can't even remember how long ago that was.

But she has no doubt this is Milliways. Guard up, she starts to make a slow circle around the room, taking as much in about the building and the current patrons as she can.

[OOC: First entrance for Tess Mercer. Have at.

Open all weekend!]

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If she's wondering where the staff is, she might note the lanky gent with a bartowel over his shoulder, rounding up dirty dishes and wiping down tables without any apparent sense of urgency.

She does, but it's because she's surprised there actually is staff. Fancy AIs are supposed to be able to do all this menial work by themselves.

"Excuse me, may I sit anywhere or do I need to wait for someone to seat me?"

Oh, the Bar, the Barmen, and the waitrats are all essentially just humoring Lesgle, letting him have a job here. And indeed he brightens at the question. A thing to do! "Welcome, welcome, Madame--you may sit wherever you choose, order however you choose, make such arrangements as suit your tastes--but is this your first time here?"

"Merci, Monsieur." With that, Tess will take a seat at the table next to the one he's clearing. "I have not personally been here before."

"Then--welcome again, and allow me to mention that your first drink here is free!" Priorities. "When you say, 'not personally,' do you mean you know other patrons...?"

"I believe so," she nods, "but I couldn't tell you when they were last here."

As for that drink, "I'll take a scotch, then. Straight."

Lesgle bows deeply and saunters off, coming back a minute or two later with a noticeably ample scotch, off the top shelf. If you're going to have a free drink, make the most of it!

"Now that that's been managed: well, what have your friends told you and how can I help you? You don't seem to be denying the existence of everything here, which is a brave start!"

She murmurs a quiet thank you and takes a healthy sip of the drink. "Why deny it exists when it's right here?"

"Why indeed? But you know, people have strange notions. They say, Magic? no such thing, or What do you mean, 'the end of the universe,' or You're not dead!, or This is ridiculous. --Well, I can't argue with that last."

"Well, I've seen a lot in my time, so this is..." Tess trails off, looking around once more. "Par for the course."

Another sip. "Are you really dead?"

"Ah--well--" He scratches his beard, looking apologetic; he had gotten a little carried away with rhetoric and hadn't quite meant to say as much. "Well, as it happens, yes, but pay it no mind? Here, let me introduce myself; my name is Lègle, late of Paris."

She waves it off. "I've been dead before. I just didn't come to a place like this."

Then she smiles. "Ah, Paris. I haven't managed to get there yet. Alors, bonjour Monsieur Lègle; je m'apelle Tess Mercer." Her accent is near flawless with only a tiny vestige of her Cajun upbringing audible.