First Entrance - Open To All

[maverick_mitchell]

Tonight, Bar admits a very special guest. The narration believes that it’s safe to say that there are two kinds of people here: those who know of him, and those who will know of him.

He is wearing an olive-drab flightsuit and aviator shades, with his flight helmet cradled under his arm. It’s painted in stripes of red, white, and blue, and MAVERICK is spelled out just above the visor.

Welcome to Milliways, Lieutenant Mitchell. We believe you’ll find it to your liking.

Comments

[maverick_mitchell]

"Just water for now, thanks."

A waitrat obliges, and he grins.

"Can't be under the influence in a F-14."

(Maverick's done some ballsy stunts in his time, but that goes right past ballsy and straight into stupid.)

He takes a drink, taking the opportunity to let his eyes flick over Grace. The neckline is checked out, of course, along with the jeans and the badge and the gun.

"So you're a police officer?" he says, nodding to the badge as he sets his glass down.

[headed4hell]

"You're not in an F-14 now."

Grace raises an eyebrow and watches him over the beer bottle she lifts to her lips.

A slow nod. "Major Crimes, Oklahoma City. Where're you based?"

[maverick_mitchell]

"USS Enterprise, CVN-65."

They're both a long ways from where they should be - but the questions can wait, Mav figures.

He glances down to the badge on her hip again, then, with another smile as he tests the waters:

"Can't say I've ever been put in handcuffs before. How'd you like to be the first?"

[headed4hell]

"Classic," she says about his ship and it is, having recently begun the decommissioning process in Grace's time. "Always liked Star Trek. Boldly going where no woman has gone before."

She smiles knowingly.

"Don't have my cuffs on me."

That's not a no.

[maverick_mitchell]

"That she does."

He's only seen a few episodes, but the reference is not lost on him. The smile stays on his face.

"That's a shame."

He doesn't press it - then he'd seem desperate, and Mav is never desperate.

"Come here often? -wherever 'here' is."

[headed4hell]

"Milliways," she says first. "End of the universe. Got people from all over -- all over."

Grace offers him her cigarette pack.

"And yeah, man. I don't believe in denying myself the finer things."

Like pretty flyboys.

[maverick_mitchell]

Smoking is not one of Maverick's vices, but he can do it when social circumstances call for it. When in Rome, right?

(Or Milliways. Potato, potatoe.)

He takes the offered pack, taking a single cigarette and tapping the end on Bar just right before offering it back with a smile.

"Neither do I."

[headed4hell]

"Good to know."

Even dangerous, maybe, given her impulse control problems.

Grace takes the cigarette with a downright saucy smile and leans over to fish her lighter out of the pack he's still holding.

"Where was the Enterprise when you wound up here?"

[maverick_mitchell]

"It's classified."

He leans forward, so as to make it easier for Grace to light his own.

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

(The narration half-suspects Grace knew the answer to this.)

"But I think it's safe to say we are where we're needed, and needed where we are."

[headed4hell]

"Somehow I knew you were gonna say that," Grace says with a grin. She lights his cigarette, eyes locked on his, and then does her own. "Seen a lot of action?"

He can choose to interpret that however he wishes.

[maverick_mitchell]

He shrugs, taking a drag. "Here and there. More in some places than others."

Grace can interpret that however she wishes.

"Haven't been shot down yet."

That, too!

[headed4hell]

"Same," she answers, amused. "Except for the shot down part. Got shot right before I showed up here last time. Even died for a minute."

A grin.

"I got better."

She sucks in smoke and blows a ring off to the side.

"Ever come close?"

[maverick_mitchell]

"To getting shot down, or dying?"

He takes a drag of his own, exhaling the smoke in a less ring-like fashion.

"Either way - nope."

He smirks.

"I'm too good."

[headed4hell]

"I bet you are," she drawls, then laughs. "And I bet your superiors love that attitude."

God knows Grace's don't.

"Got a wing man?"

[maverick_mitchell]

He nods. "There's Lieutenant Cortell and Lieutenant Wells - we're paired together on combat air patrol a lot. Then there's Lieutenant Bradshaw, my RIO."

He grins.

"We call him Goose."

[headed4hell]

Grace throws her head back in a laugh.

"And they didn't call you Duck Duck?" She swirls a finger around the rim of her glass. "What's a RIO?"

[maverick_mitchell]

Maverick chuckles. "I guess it didn't occur to them at the time.

"A RIO is a Radar Intercept Officer. They man the radar in the backseat, handle communications, navigation, some of the weapons systems - things like that. It's a pretty cushy gig."

[headed4hell]

"Sounds like it."

She takes another long drag, expressive eyes busy checking him out while she smokes.

"Ever take up civilians?"

[maverick_mitchell]

"That'd be a first," Maverick allows. "But if you want to go up there, I'll see what I can do."

[headed4hell]

Score!

Grace smirks at him and says, "You should check out the garage sometime, man. I bet you a bottle of the good stuff they got your type of plane down there."

Milliways is kind of amazing.

"Definitely got some nice land rockets down there if you want me to return the favor."

[maverick_mitchell]

Grace's smirk is returned as Maverick makes a mental note to check the garage out.

"No offense, miss - but no land rocket can match my Tomcat. You'll understand once you're up there."

[headed4hell]

Grace rolls her eyes in a completely irreverent fashion.

"Call me Grace. And I know that. Still, you gotta make 'em feel good about themselves or they'll get depressed," she says teasingly. "I know my Connie's not gonna break the sound barrier, but she's pretty damn amazin' on I-35 at 3 a.m."