(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim's in a towering good mood tonight. The preliminary stages of the game are always fun, always full of promise. So many things can go wrong if the ordinary people can't manage their roles, or someone decides to try and get clever. 

But their involvement is a way off yet. Until then he's free to lay it all out in his head, perfect and clean and untouched by idiots. And that's why he's lounging in an armchair by the Window with his feet up on another, baseball cap on his head, a pint of bitter (yuck) and a packet of crisps at his elbow. He has one earbud in so he can listen to Bach while he amuses himself by tossing a tennis ball in a relentless rhythm against the glass. 



[OOC: Open until Friday!

Must crash for the night; will be back in the am <3]

Comments

[have_no_mercy]

Seated at a table not too far away is Tess, typing away on her laptop. She's been very busy lately and using this place to get some extra work done is finally paying off.

There's just that noise in the background that is about to get on her last nerve.

[just_cant_lose]

Oh, is this annoying? Sorry Tess, he'll stop right away.



...lol, no he won't.

[have_no_mercy]

Maybe just a little.

"You want to knock that off before I shove it down your throat?"

Yep. That's the next to last nerve.

[just_cant_lose]

'I could do.'

And yet...

'Or you could stop ignoring me and come and talk.'

A much better suggestion, he feels.

[have_no_mercy]

Oh. It's Jim. She really hadn't been paying attention to whom it was, just the incessant banging.

She supposes she could go over and talk, saving her current work and closing her laptop.

"Sorry, I didn't realize it was you." Her tone pretty much indicates she's not sorry at all.

[just_cant_lose]

His grin indicates that he's not offended, and also that he's being a troll on purpose. But the banging does stop, because he catches the ball neatly in one hand and takes his feet off the seat opposite so she can sit down there if she likes.

'That's OK. What were you doing?'

[have_no_mercy]

Like she's surprised he was doing it on purpose. At least he has the manners to remove his feet to give her a place to sit, which she does, tucking her laptop to the side.

"Working on a communications program. Just laying out the bare bones, I'll hook it up to the network when I get home."

[just_cant_lose]

'To do what?'

He also has the manners to switch his music off, and wave a rat over so she can order a drink. A proper gent, is Jim. Except for the way he doesn't sit up from his slouch.

[have_no_mercy]

"Communicate."

Entirely a gentleman he is. She does order a drink, a scotch on the rocks to water it down a bit. It's a work day, after all.

[morethanprops]

Moist has a book on engraving techniques and is looking for a place to sit when he goes by Jim, "I'm not sure if that's brave or stupid."

Today he's dressed in comfortable flannel pants and a button down shirt with the collar undone.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's in fashionable jeans, Adidas hi-tops and an artfully crumpled-but-fitted T-shirt. He couldn't look more harmless and casual if he tried.

'If what is?'

[morethanprops]

"Hitting the Window. I know its magical glass but its also the End of the Universe,"

He pulls up a nearby chair and orders a coffee from a passing rat before sitting down.

[just_cant_lose]

As he pulls up the chair, Jim's eyes flit over the book he's carrying. Engraving. Really.

'I've spoken to people who've been here years and years. If a tennis ball can crack this glass, I think the place would have disappeared a long time ago.'

He catches the ball in one hand, and regards the view.

'How do you know it's magical glass?'

[morethanprops]

There are ink stains on his fingers, being a clerk always leaves them, "What else would it be? Oh, I know, I'm one of those people. You just don't often see people hitting the Window."

In Milliways, he tries to not tempt fate as Milliways seems to have an awful sense of humor about him.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim raises his eyebrows, and mentally does the math. It doesn't have to be magical glass at all - men go to space all the time, and this is supposedly the end of all time. At this point in the continuum, every invention ever has theoretically been made. If the glass needs to be reinforced to ward off the explosions, there doesn't have to be anything magical about it at all.

He says none of this. But he does figure the man comes from a place with no space program.

'No, no, you're probably right. I'm pretty new here, I hadn't really thought about it. I just assumed it'd be up to it.'

He stretches over the arm of his chair with a smile, offering a hand.

'I'm Jim, good to meet you.'

[morethanprops]

(OOC: Please let me know if he reads too much in. They're in similar businesses but from different angles.)

"It probably is, I tend to be cautious here. Alfred,"

His handshake is firm though he doesn't turn on his full smile only about half the power. He glances over Jim, modern clothing doesn't tell him as much as his own era, all he gets is doing well enough to be casual and in a way well dressed.

[just_cant_lose]

[OOC: For sure, and likewise!]

It's a nice smile, Alfred. And he's not bothered by the once over he gets, partly because he's not worried about chinks in his disguise and partly because it's telling that anyone would look at a complete stranger that way, and also make it look natural.

'Good book?'

Beat.

'And why do you need to be cautious?'

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle has been on duty busing tables and fetching drinks and repairing the coffee-maker. It was fine just this morning; it was fine when he started his shift; and yet somehow as soon as he took a request for coffee the poor feeble thing turned its eyes to heaven and fell into a swoon. Having restored it to its senses, and having delivered the coffee that was asked for, Lesgle has fixed himself a cup that's nearly half-and-half coffee and brandy, and is sauntering about.

His saunter takes him to the window, and to the pleasantly hypnotic sight and sound of not-really-tennis. "Do you play, Monsieur?" (Hang on, they've met, haven't they? Something not very memorable, though.)

[just_cant_lose]

'Not really. A little bit.'

No, he doesn't. He can, but he doesn't.

He also doesn't smile at the emergence of another one of the Frenchmen. It's just a smile of recognition and being friendly!

'Oh! Hi again. It's, uh...sorry I forgot your name. We met when I first came in though, I think.'

Lesgle. He remembers perfectly.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Yes! I have it now! Well--not your name, that's escaped me and is enjoying its liberty--but there was coffee last time, too. The coffee machine. Had chosen not to work for me. That day. --Lègle, once of Meaux. Pleased to meet you again."

He is! It's nice meeting people!

[just_cant_lose]

It really is! Sort of!

'Jim. My name's Jim.'

He offers his hand to shake, with a widening of his grin.

'So, how's life? Did you beat the machine back into submission?'

Clearly not, if it's gone on the blink again. He did notice the fussing at it earlier.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Beat? Beat?? Me???" He presses a hand to his heart. "Do I have the look of a brute? A brute, that would beat some poor harmless bit of machinery? Good God, sir, you wound me. And then you say submission--that is to say, you call me a tyrant! Swords at dawn, Monsieur, swords at dawn!"

[just_cant_lose]

He feigns a moment of surprise at this, as if for a second he might believe Lesgle is seriously offended. Then understanding dawns, and the smile returns.

'I'm not much cop with swords, can we pick something else? Checkers? Darts?'

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Oh, I love darts," he says comfortably. "I'm quite good, in fact--I'm just saying it as a warning, because nearly everything else in my life is such a failure that you'd reasonably expect it there, too. --And how are you lately, Jim? Still, ah--English?"

[just_cant_lose]

'I'm fine. Still English, yeah. Sorry 'bout that.'

Lol.

'Why's everything in your life a failure? You mean you're a tyrant over more than coffee machines?'

THE. HORROR.