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[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock is deeply absorbed in texting when he ambles into the bar, deftly avoiding tables and chairs as if he's paying attention to his surroundings (he's not) until he reaches the bar.

"Tea, please," and tea appears. He takes the cup with a "Thank you, John," and takes it to the nearest armchair.

He curls up in it, teacup balanced on his knee, still texting until--

No signal found.

He makes a grumbly, irritated sort of sound and tosses the phone in the general direction of elsewhere.


[OOC: If there's something not in your character's profile that Sherlock can deduce about them, please comment here.]

Comments

[freedom_is_grey]

Liranan catches said phone in his mouth, very neatly, then trots over to Sherlock and redeposits it on arm of said armchair.

It is a little covered in dog spit, but there are no toothmarks, really.

Liranan has a very soft mouth.

Ysalwen stifles a laugh, from where she's sitting in an adjacent armchair.

"I do hope you didn't actually intend for that to stay gone."

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock strokes the dog's head in thanks.

"I didn't expect it to return so quickly," he tells the woman. "Your dog is very well-trained."

[freedom_is_grey]

"He'll be glad you've noticed," Ysalwen says, smiling faintly.

Liranan, meanwhile, sits up tall and proud, letting out a cheerful bark.

He really is glad this new person noticed! New person is very observant!

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock goes on petting the dog as he takes in the woman.

General conversation, then.

"What's he called?"

[freedom_is_grey]

"Liranan."

Her mouth twists at one corner.

"I'm Ysalwen. Pleased to meet you -- or at least I'm assuming I will be."

[mightbeagoodone]

He looks down at the dog for a moment before he answer.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, and you may regret that assumption."

[freedom_is_grey]

Liranan yips again, quick and bright, then moves to seat himself back at Ysalwen's side.

"I may regret a lot of things, but that hasn't stopped me yet."

She's only a little wry as she says it.

"We'll see how it goes."

[fry_sandhu]

The phone bounces on the floor just where Fry is sitting; it doesn't hit him, but it does knock away the spinning top he was watching, and he makes a startled squeak.

He's also soaking wet, but he's drying off by the fire.

[mightbeagoodone]

The squeak gets Sherlock's attention. Fry's appearance does the rest.

"Shouldn't you get a towel?"

[fry_sandhu]

"I don't know. I thought fire might work." Fry says, not looking up but putting the top back and spinning it again.

[mightbeagoodone]

"Get a towel. The two in conjunction will dry you faster than one alone."

[fry_sandhu]

Fry glances around. Ah. A waitrat apparently already placed a towel next to him, because he was dripping on the floor.

He picks it up - ah, fluffy - and places it over the top of himself, without rubbing, so that he's basically a big mound of towel in the floor.

Nice and warm though.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock leans back in his chair, feeling he's done his service to humanity for the day.

[fry_sandhu]

The towel rocks back and forth for a bit. Then eventually Fry emerges from it, or at least, sticks his head out.

"Why did you throw your phone? Is it installing updates?"

[kazefujin]

Fujin prefers to be the passive observer, finding Sherlock's entrance rather entertaining as he weaves almost effortlessly to the bar, and then settles once retrieving tea. He, himself, is kneeling before a low table nearby and a free hand snatches the abandoned phone as it nearly hits his knee.

He sets it on the table gently, but not within arm's reach of Sherlock, sipping at his own tea as he does. Mortals almost always returned for the things, even when they did throw them. He'd also seen how fragile they could be and the metal guard at his knee would have undoubtedly done permanent damage.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock does not track the progress of his phone. He drinks his tea, deep in thought.

[kazefujin]

Fujin lets Sherlock enjoy his tea in further silence before finally speaking.

"Should I ask what might cause someone to throw an expensive personal item at me?" It's obvious from his tone that Fujin knows the direction was unintentional, but it has him curious. Trouble often caused such devices to go airborne, and though he may not be directly helpful, perhaps discussion might aid in the sorting of deep thoughts that Sherlock appears to be mulling over.

[mightbeagoodone]

It takes Sherlock a moment to realize he's being spoken to.

"Frustration."

[kazefujin]

"That much is obvious." Clearly the answer isn't satisfying, but Fujin's voice is one of patience. "Would you like more tea?" He has a whole teapot to himself, though it's doubtful the same kind. Still, he doesn't mind sharing.

[mightbeagoodone]

"No," Sherlock says, and then remembers to add, "Thank you."

[diehard_daniel]

Daniel looks up from his laptop and books as the phone skitters near his boot.

"Uh," he starts looking around and settling his gaze on Sherlock, "Did you lose this?"

Daniel is wearing old fashioned , disheveled, OD green BDUs with standard tread boots. His SG1 patch is firmly affixed on his shoulder, and the Earth origin symbol patch on the other. He is wearing his glasses, and has a cup of coffee at his elbow. At least he isn't ascended, dead, a prior, or deathly ill today. He's just Daniel. He is working on a dig in the Pegasus galaxy, but I am not sure how Sherlock would pick up on that.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock takes in all this with a glance, and says, "I did not lose it. I threw it away with great force."

[diehard_daniel]

"Well, your lucky it didn't break," says Daniel unimpressed, "I mean I could take it home with me, but I am stationed out of range of any cell towers."

He takes a sip of his coffee.

[mightbeagoodone]

Sherlock waves a hand in his general direction. "Keep it, don't keep it, I don't care."

He folds himself into the chair, his back to the room at large.

[diehard_daniel]

"Okay..." Daniel offers the phone back to the other man.

He's not gonna do too much prodding. He's got site reports to write.