milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It's a quiet day in Central City. No dead bodies have dropped to call Barry into his day job, and a quick zip around the city yields only a mugger and one jaywalker who would've been pancaked by a garbage truck if 'The Streak' hadn't been there to rush him to the safety of the sidewalk.

(Seriously, he needs a better superhero name.)

With things so chill at home Barry is glad when he finds Milliways in his apartment. He was looking for something to eat, but the fridge and cupboards in his place are bare.

Obviously it's time for him to join Costco or something, but in the meantime...

"Hey, Bar," he greets the counter, sliding onto a stool wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt. "Can I get a-- "

A platter appears with deli meats and cheeses all cut down to fit on the accompanying Ritz crackers. It's the type of tray usually made to feed small armies of party guests.

"--snack."

Barry grins and while he starts assembling cracker sandwiches, Bar produces a chocolate milkshake; which earns a wary glance from Barry, but he soon discovers this one isn't a protein ruse.

[ooc: Here all day, and this will be open through the weekend.]

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"S'good, right?" he asks, putting together another even while he's still chewing on the previous.

With a turkey cheddar combo in hand, he pauses and considers the question.

"Custom? Yeah, I guess you could call it that. Mostly found at parties and tailgates."

"Very good!" he agrees enthusiastically as he also stacks another cracker with more bits of cheese and ham.

"What is a tailgate?"

Barry nods, glad the guy likes them.

"Like a party, but before a game. People do it in parking lots outside of the stadium from their cars or trucks. Hence, tailgating."

Some of the things he says make sense, some don't.

"I have seen cars and trucks here, but they do not exist in my time yet," he tells him before munching on the latest stack he's put together.

"Your people have games that are so important that feasts precede them? We often have them before raids and battles, but not games."

"Some people feel that they are," he replies about games. "When are you from?"

In the past is an easy guess, but he's not as strong in history as he is in other subjects.

"Huh," Floki huffs, thinking that very strange, to celebrate a game with tiny snacks.

"We do not number the years as others seem to do, but I am told that those a thousand years in the future still know of my people. I am a Viking. My name is Floki, of Kattegat."

"Oh sure, I've definitely heard of your people," he says with a nod, briefly debating mentioning that there's a sports team called the Vikings, then deciding against it. "My name's Barry Allen, I'm from Central City. Uh, 2014."

"Ah, so you have!" he says brightly, always pleased to know when the stories and legends have been passed down. "Well met, Barry Allen. And what do you do in Central City?"

Barry nods in return to show the feeling is mutual.

"I'm a forensic assistant for the police department," he answers, then tries to explain. "I do crime scene investigation. When there's a murder I check out the scene where it happened, looking for clues and evidence to try and help the detectives on the case put together what happened."

"Murder?" he says with grave curiosity and a bird-like tilt of his head. "Are there very many murders in your world that are difficult to solve?"

Because in Floki's village it's just usually the guy with the blood on him who did it, case closed.

Edited 2017-04-30 22:00 (UTC)

"Unfortunately yeah," he replies, and his thoughts go to his own mother's murder for a moment.

"Our department has a pretty good track record for solving them, though. A lot of families see closure, and a lot of the guilty criminals are caught."

Floki makes a thoughtful noise and nods.

"It must be honorable to be instrumental in upholding your law," he says. "It sounds like good work that is very much for the benefit of others."

"I feel proud doing it," he says after considering for a moment. "It's important work."

For the people he helps and for himself personally.

"How about you? Do you have a trade or something?" he asks.

"I am a shipbuilder," he says, patting his belt of tools, which also look as if they double as weapons. And they do.

"I built ships for Ragnar Lothbrok that have taken us to the shores of England, father than any Viking had reached before. We brought back many riches, and many tales of victorious battles. Now we are planning to return with our king to secure land for our people to settle, for that is Ragnar's dream."

Not Floki's, but...it's what Ragnar wants.

"That's cool. I don't know a whole lot about boats. I've been on some, but they were small. Not really the sailing to England kind," he says with a chuckle.

"Ah, the sea is a part of our life," he says, as he methodically constructs another stack of crackers, cheeses, and meats. "We fish, we trade, we explore. The sea provides it all, and boats make it all possible. Do you travel very much?"

Annnd then he stuffs the whole stack in his mouth. This is fun and delicious.

"Not really," he admits. "I generally stick pretty close to Central City. I've been fishing a few times, but I'm not very good at it."

And he honestly doesn't like it all that much, but when Joe asks Barry is usually obliging enough to go.

Floki utters a short laugh, which might sound like a slightly maniacal giggle. But really, that's just how he laughs.

"Then you would go hungry, if not for large plates of tiny snacks," he quips. "What keeps you bound to home? Have you a wife and children that need looking after?"

The laugh gets an amused look, and Barry grins and gives a nod. "I guess I would. Lucky for me I've got a few people looking out for me."

His smile flickers a bit on the question, there being a couple not quite pleasant reasons for his sticking around. It's there and gone again in a moment, though, and he smiles when he answers.

"No, I'm not married. I like Central City, and my job." And his other job. "And I like to stick close to my dad, and my family, too."

Barry makes a point of visiting his father regularly, and since the man is in prison, leaving Central City would make that much harder to do.

"Not married yet? Oh, if you lived in Kattegat, you would have taken a wife by now and already had little ones running underfoot," he says teasingly.

"But family is important to Vikings, too. So you are good to stay with them. My wife is expecting our first child. By the time I and the raiding party return from England, the baby should be born by then."

Barry coughs on his cracker and shakes his head, embarrassed. "Yeah, no. I don't even have a girlfriend right now."

Embarrassed or not, he still smiles when he hears Floki's news. "Congratulations."

"I thank you!" he says brightly. "Don't worry, if a fool like me can find a good woman to marry him, then you will surely find a girlfriend."

He grabs a handful of crackers--there seems to be an endless supply--and munches away. "And thank you for sharing your tiny snacks with me. It was more enjoyable than I expected!"

Barry gives a chuckle and an appreciative nod. "Thanks, here's hoping."

It's not so much finding someone as the person he's found is currently taken, but he appreciates the sentiments anyways.

"You're welcome, I'm glad you like them."

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