First Entrance

[inatownlikethis]

The woman who steps through the door with a distracted expression stops dead still as soon as she looks up and Milliways registers. Slowly, carefully, standing very straight, she puts her earrings back in. She'd been on her way to bed, but--this isn't bed. She smooths her hands down the front of her skirt.

After a few steady breaths, she walks to the bar and sits at one end, still very straight, very careful. When she realizes that there's a pamphlet at her elbow she looks it over, one eyebrow going higher and higher. A bar at the end of the universe?

Having read the pamphlet she smooths the paper and re-folds it into a fan to hold. Something to keep her hands from trembling while she studies this new situation.

Comments

[astrangebell]

Arabella Strange (dressed now in clothes provided by Bar, and so looking much more like an average, respectable Englishwoman than she sometimes does these days) offers a smile as she approaches the bar a few seats down.

[inatownlikethis]

Offered a smile, Helen nods, just a little stiffly. "Hello. You are a visitor here?"

She speaks English, expecting it to be the language of the place; she speaks with a strong Mexican accent, but very clearly and precisely.

[astrangebell]

"A visitor-- yes," Arabella replies. "I don't suppose anyone could properly claim to be anything but a visitor, as certainly none can claim to own it. But are you newly come?"

[inatownlikethis]

"Yes. I am." She puts down her impromptu fan and knots her fingers in her lap. Tightly. Otherwise she looks calm. "My name is Mrs. Ramirez. I thought I was going back to my room. I read in this paper that people come here from many worlds. Are you going to tell me the same thing?"

[astrangebell]

"I am Mrs. Strange, and I certainly will not bore you with telling you so, if you have already read it there." She glances down at the folded-up paper. "I did not know there was a paper that explained such things. How very considerate."

[not_his_pa]

(OOC: I thought I'd send my cowboy over but if you'd like someone else, let me know.)

William has his lariat over his shoulder when he enters from the Front Door, he's been working and thinking about the rodeo. This works well as he can get some food, she catches his eye as she looks from his time and maybe even from Mexico, he tips his hat at her.

[inatownlikethis]

He's the most familiar sight in the room right now. Helen answers his hat-tip with a grateful nod.

Ordinarily she wouldn't approach men she doesn't know, for no reason. But this isn't ordinarily, and it isn't for no reason. She stands, smoothing her skirt again, and walks up to him. "Excuse me."

[not_his_pa]

"Yes, ma'am. Can I be of any assistance?"

He stops near a table and waits to see what she needs, she sounds of the border.

[inatownlikethis]

Good. He's as polite as he'd looked. And still more familiar than anything else here: a young ranch hand or something like that. Helen folds her hands around each other. "Perhaps. I have just come here, and I did not expect it. Can you tell me--" Tell her what? "--Do you live here, or are you a visitor?"

[not_his_pa]

"I'm a visitor here, ma'am though I've spent a fair amount of time in Milliways. Are you new?"

[lark_in_flight]

[OOC: I'm going to have to vanish for a few hours almost immediately, but I couldn't resist!]

There's a young woman at the bar in the petticoats and puffed sleeves and froth of the urban, European 1830s. (1833, to be precise.) Her outfit speaks of both money and good aesthetic sense, but it's perhaps not quite as fashionable as it could be; a little old-fashioned and a little too old for her fresh young face, in a few of the minor touches.

She's negotiating with the bartop, or rather with the scribbled-upon napkin in front of her. "--You're quite right, madame, but how can we ensure that he eats it? You know him, he only smiles, he'll probably find some poor unfortunate to give his dinner to, and now that he isn't living with me, that is, with us... Oh! Could I write a note to accompany meals? If I asked you to let me know if he doesn't eat properly -- if we told him that you'd do so -- would you do that, dear Mme Bar?"

Her gestures are quick and fluttery, but she's quite earnest.

[inatownlikethis]

((No worries! :D))

Helen Ramirez doesn't know 1830s fashions in any detail, but she does know when a young woman is wearing a dress that doesn't quite flatter her. A very young woman in this case. But--a respectable young woman, to guess from the particular ways that her costume doesn't flatter.

Respectable, but also apparently mad. Helen watches her warily, and then with amusement. What a place this is! How can you tell who might be mad?

(For her part, she's aware that her dress is impeccably flattering. Severe. But--flattering. Her jet earrings and black trim have the same effect, severity, but--not an unapproachable severity.)

When the girl falls silent, Helen leaves her chair and steps closer. "Excuse me. But I have to ask. Who is Madame Bar?"

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette's first reaction is a minor surge of envy; she feels very young beside this woman's elegant self-possession, even if the cut of her dress is a little strange. (And a foreigner, from her accent -- perhaps Spanish, or Italian -- but oh, she's lovely.) Right on its heels is a surge of pity; the woman is in plenty of black. At Milliways, with all its many worlds and years, that might not mean mourning -- but it might, and at any rate the assumptions of her world are Cosette's first thought.

Both of those reactions are swamped by the realization that this severe, elegant, possibly grieving woman is brand new, or she wouldn't be asking such a question.

"Oh!" Cosette straightens, turning towards Helen, and then ducks her head in a moment's laughter. "Oh dear, you must think me mad."

Yeah let's not wait for an answer to that.

"This is Madame Bar," she carries on, patting the bartop lightly with a small gloved hand. "I know how it sounds! The first time I came I was sure I was dreaming, oh, everything. But it's the truth. She's marvelous. She gives a person whatever food and so forth they might want -- all kinds of things -- and she speaks in little notes. I was told it's magic, I confess I don't understand at all, but it's so."

A napkin appears next to Helen with a note in orange, in whatever language she might wish or expect it to be in: Pleased to meet you, Helen Ramirez, and welcome to Milliways, with a little drawing of a smiling face.

[inatownlikethis]

Helen's face softens into a gentler amusement. This is an appealing child, married or not, respectable or not. "Of course. It said that in the paper I read. I should have believed it. --Ah!" The appearance of the napkin startles her; she touches just the very corner of it with one fingertip.

She reads the note. Spanish, where she was expecting English: she runs her fingertip over it again, then takes it and folds it into the bodice of her dress. "I never believed in magic. Any kind of magic. --My name is Mrs. Ramirez. I just came here." She extends a hand to the pretty blonde girl. (The large jet ring says widow with more certainty than the rest of the black: but not recently bereaved, from her manner.)

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette clasps her hand warmly. She refuses to be awed by an elegant widow; she refuses, so she'll be friendly instead; and anyway, the poor woman is so new here she hasn't even met Bar. (And Cosette grew up surrounded by nuns, who if not so elegant were certainly imposingly severe often enough.)

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Ramirez. I'm Cosette F-- Pontmercy. Madame Pontmercy."

This name is new enough, and welcome enough, that she still goes pink with pleasure when she says it.

"I didn't believe in magic either. But there are all kinds of marvels here. It's a wonderful place."

Some people's opinions might differ on that. To some extent, Cosette is even aware of that. But she's young, and she's eager to experience more of the world, and she's found nothing but good things here, on the whole.

[clayforthedevil]

The strange woman at the Bar's in a more familiar dress than most people who come into Milliways. It's a dress, for one thing, with the sort of skirts that allow for some real swoop, not one of the tailored chemises from some eras. And she's wearing a good deal of black. It doesn't have to mean anything, and certainly not what it would mean in his world.

But what counts across worlds is that she's really watching the room, in a quiet way, not just looking idly. A new arrival, or a very sharp regular, then. Good to know.

He smiles at her in passing, friendly but not especially formal, on his way to the Bar.

[inatownlikethis]

She raises her eyebrows at him and sits a little straighter--a little haughty, a little proud. Or maybe a little frightened in a new place, and not wanting to show it. "And what are you looking at?"

[clayforthedevil]

Pride is healthy! Bahorel likes seeing a healthy bit of pride. He grins in approval.

"At you" he says, frankly "because you're someone I haven't seen here before. And I have been here..." he looks up and tries to calculate briefly before giving it up as useless. "...some seasons, and seem likely to be here quite a few more. So new people are always worth noticing, even when they don't have your sense of style."

Which is good, because mostly, people don't.

[inatownlikethis]

Frank is all right. Helen looks him over just as frankly. Her instincts say gambler, from his clothes and the way he carries himself. Gambler--or something like that. Not quite on the right side of the law. But he doesn't wear a gun.

"Yes. I am new. And you talk like that every time you meet a new woman?" There's no flirtation in her voice. But...there's also not no flirtation in her voice.

[clayforthedevil]

Oh, good. Not a shy sort. "Of course not. Only the ones who seem interesting." He bows, more dramatic than formal. "Bahorel, late of Paris, and Lyon before that."

[soldier_blade]

ooc: can't decide, so will let you-Sonya Blade or Matilda Wormwood?

[inatownlikethis]

((oh ummmmm i don't know! Matilda, maybe? Whoever you're in the mood for! :D))

[change_my_story]

The only good thing about dolls was that one needed a lot of imagination to do withing with them. Otherwise it was just dressing them up in clothing and leaving them in the toybin. At the moment, she was pretending one doll was a circus daredevil, having her straddle a toy motorbike.

"And now..the super-amazing, daredevil will ride a motorcycle through several fire rings, set over a shark and alligator infested pool."

She stopped short of sending the doll over the course when she saw the woman enter. She was very pretty and elegant, though Matilda figured she was either very new or maybe she just hadn't been here while she was here.

[inatownlikethis]

Helen Ramirez isn't really a kid person. She doesn't have any children herself and doesn't want any. But in such a bizarre place it's a comfort to see a child playing with toys. After a little while, she approaches the girl. "Those are very good dolls."

[change_my_story]

The woman's accent is different to what she's used to, but it fits with her appearence so until further notice, she decides she likes her.

"Thank you, I'm pretending one of them's a daredevil at the circus." Though, given the flouncy, 80s fashion clothing said doll was wearing, it was likely any actual firestunts would meet with bad news.

"Are you new here?"