milliways_bar | (no subject)

The Ben Wade who enters the bar cuts a slightly leaner figure than he used to. Blame old-fashioned manual labor, and frugal living.

He's sweating and sunburnt beneath the brim of his beat-up brown hat, and he's counting himself damn lucky to've walked in. Here, he can pour iced water down his sawdust-dry throat.

At the counter, he's greeted with a napkin from Bar; his mouth quirks in a half-smile.

"Awful good to see you, too."

Another napkin appears.

"Thank you for holdin' on to 'em for me. I appreciate your safe-keepin'. Might be a while, yet, before I'll need 'em."

A third napkin.

"That so? Well, happy Mother's Day, Miss Bar. If you celebrate it."

Ben can't rightly say where his own mother might be. Or if she's above ground, now.

Still.

Even bad men love their mamas.

Which is why, as Ben pours himself a glass of ice water from the pitcher Bar graciously provides, he wonders, briefly, if that Bible she left his eight-year-old self with at the train station is still intact, somewhere — its spine and cover creased and cracked, maybe laying open on somebody's dinner table, or sitting shut and silent on a dusty shelf.

[ ooc: well, hel-lo — it's been a hot one and a half, y'all. open indefinitely! ]

[ tiny tag: cassian andor ]

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"Hard to say if it's a regular occurrence." Ben's voice gains more gravel. "Whim of the Landlord, near as I can tell."

He takes a pull from his glass.

"You fairly new around here?"

"Yes, I've only had a few visits,"

And here saying he's new seems to make people helpful.

Ben's mouth curves up at the corners, the ghost of a smile.

"Welcome to the new normal."

Cassian drinks more of his caf and lets his gaze go over Milliways then back to the man next to him, who reminds Cassian of bounty hunters he's know with his presence,

"Any advice?"

That smile sharpens.

"Much more fun to let you figure it out, don't you think?"

He smiles and shrugs, if nothing's being given up then he'll make himself no one to worry about, "Fun for you, yes, but I'm a quick learner."

Edited 2017-05-15 03:20 (UTC)

"That'll come in damn handy."

A beat.

"That, and a sense of humor won't hurt."

"I think I can manage that,"

It would be nice to have reasons to laugh.

"Then you'll get along just fine."

A beat.

"Unless a passel of demon rabbits set upon you, I reckon."

Ben's joking.

Mostly.

"Demon rabbits, what do they do?"

They must be an odd species, but he is always armed.

"Fiery little devils," Ben says. "They tend to leave well enough alone unless they're provoked, or spooked."

"Like Loth cats? I try not to scare anyone,"

Its best if he blends in, easily forgotten.

Ben's mouth turns down in a diplomatic frown.

"That'd depend on the nature of the ... Loth-cat, you said?"

"About this big and lots of personality and sharp claws. Once you've met one, they're hard to forget,"

He gestures with his hands about a foot and a half apart with an almost smile.

Ben chortles, low and wry.

"I'll count myself lucky to say I've never had the pleasure."

"They can be nice as long as you don't provoke them like those demon rabbits. It seems true of everything with claws or teeth anywhere in the galaxy."

Seems true of everything, period, in Ben's opinion. Human beings, at their most base, are only animals.

Philosophical notions aside, he's bemused as he swallows another mouthful of cold water.

"Reminds me of some upstandin' women I know."

"What makes an upstanding woman?" That's a particular choice of word.

"In my experience?"

A beat.

"Opinionated."

"I've met many women with opinions, not all of them share them. Upstanding, I think about those with power,"

Its dangerous to speak too openly with the Empire listening but the ones who do speak, they create change. Someone who wants to be an upstanding member of the Empire will always use those around them.

Edited 2017-05-16 02:28 (UTC)

Ben tips his head in acknowledgment.

(He thinks about Fira, fierce and furious.

He thinks about Sassafras, deceptively sugar-sweet.

He thinks about Alice Evans, her iron eyes like a stormy sea.

He thinks about his mother, and those pink-and-white cards on the counter, and Proverbs 31:26.)

He thinks something stronger than water's in order.

His quiet request is met with the appearance of a lowball glass, and three fingers of bourbon.

Cassian looks down at his drink and those cards, upstanding women. In the Rebellion, in their quiet ways so many women fight and provide the hope worth following.

He finishes his caf and traces one of the cards, he never knew his mother, "What's your drink?"

There's something almost reverent in the way the man's fingertips move over the embossed cardstock.

Ben chalks it up to novelty, given how precious paper can be on some sides of the door.

His eyes flick up at the question, and he lifts his glass half an inch off the counter.

"Bourbon," he says. "Type of whiskey."

Its fine paper but its more what it represents, something he's never truly known. The Rebellion is his family and a good one but not always a kind one, "Bourbon, I might try it sometime."

He's working and can't afford to dull his edge.

Edited 2017-05-17 22:15 (UTC)

That earns a slight nod.

"Do keep it in mind."

Ben takes a sip, savoring the neat burn.

"If you've had Whyren's," he adds, "you're likely to find it to your taste."

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