milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The circle of chairs is... not in the bar today, instead there's a sign.

LIFE SUPPORT
OUTSIDE TODAY, ON THE BEACH
FREE FOOD AND A CHAT
CAMPFIRE WITH MARSHMALLOWS

Out on the beach, there is a circle of deckchairs. It's too nice weather today to waste inside. There's also a yummy picnic, and a thermos of tea.

New? Confused? Problems here or at home?
Come and join them!

[ooc: Open until the next one in approx 1 1/2 months (There will be no LS in July due to the fair).
All tags will be picked up by at least one of the LS crew. Threadhopping encouraged! All welcome xx
ETA 23.30: Guppy-mun now heading to bed but will pick up any slows tomorrow]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Alana pours tea from the thermos into a delicate, porcelain cup, waiting on anyone who wants or needs to chat today.

Bernard usually doesn't do chatting. At least not while sober. Although he might make an exception for a pretty girl, if he doesn't get overcome by the kind of social awkwardness he tends to get around pretty girls.

Right now, however, he's wandering around outside looking completely lost. Somehow the great big mountain makes even less sense than the random pub.

"Hello!" Alana calls to him, waving. "Would you like some tea? How about a toasted marshmallow?"

Bernard looks over at her in surprise. A woman other than Fran is talking to him. And not to tell him to bugger off.

"You got anything stronger?" he asks, coming over and lighting a cigarette.

"Unfortunately, no," Alana says, not appearing bothered by the cigarette. "This is Life Support. We're a group of professionals here to chat with anyone who needs it. I'm Dr. Alana Bloom. It's nice to meet you."

"I don't need a doctor." Bernard says, cautiously. "I'm not mad, this place is real."

"It's very real," Alana says, sipping her tea. "What's your name?"

"Bernard. Bernard Black. And yours?" Bernard says, coming over and sitting cautiously on a deckchair, as though he doesn't find that an entirely natural thing to do. He takes a handful of marshmallows and stuffs them in his mouth at once.

"Dr. Alana Bloom," Alana says, the corners of her mouth quirking at his marshmallow stuffing. "How long have you been coming to the bar, Bernard?"

He swallows the marshmallows and wipes his face on his sleeve.

"A day." he says. "I met a weirdo with a pink moustache and two people who looked like the undead."

"Oh, wow, just a day?" Alana says, raising her brows. "Well, let me be one of the first to welcome you to the bar. I've never met any of those people, as far as I know, though there are some of the undead who come here. What do you think of the bar so far?"

"Actual undead?"

Bernard had just been being sarcastic. He'd assumed they were goths or something equally ridiculous.

"Well the Candyfloss Kid better come back, he put in an order at my shop."

"Yes, vampires and other patrons are actually undead," Alana says, smiling a little. "What shop do you run?"

"A bookshop. He wanted a bunch of encyclopaedias, for some reason." Bernard says.

He wouldn't have believed Wilford about the undead. But this girl looks serious.

"Do I need to carry garlic or something?"

"Oh, no, the vampires here generally don't attack people, as far as I know," Alana says, holding a hand up. "They'd get celled by Security, which, granted, isn't that much of a deterrent, but it is what it is. The vampire I know wants to keep his arrangements with people here so he gets fed, which precludes him from being violent with anyone else."

"Security? I didn't see a bouncer." Bernard says, taking another handful of marshmallows.

"And none of you think this is weird?"

Alana's smile crinkles up the corners of her eyes. "Of course it's weird, but you'd be surprised at how quickly you get use to it all. Some people even come from worlds with vampires in them, so they're used to that aspect, but there's always part of the bar that's odd," she says, chuckling. "And there are always members of Security around. They're just patrons like everyone else, and 'bouncer' is a great job description for them. They can put people in the cells, which are sentient and named Baby. No one can escape from Baby."

"'Nobody can escape from Baby'? Jesus, sounds like the title of a horror novel." Bernard says.

"Why don't they just throw you out the door like a regular bouncer?"

Alana laughs, a bright, surprised noise. "It does, doesn't it?" she says, ducking her head. "And they can't throw you out because there's no guarantee you won't come back. The bar is open to everyone, regardless of who they are in their world or what they do here."

"So they throw people in jail? Is that what happens to all those people in the world who go missing or claim to be abducted by aliens?"

Ugh, he needs a drink to deal with all this. Tea won't cut it. He pulls a hip flask out of his inside pocket and gives it a swig.

"People only stay in the cells from three days to a week, depending on how long the arresting Security member decides on," Alana says, not bothered by his drinking either. "Punishments are lax here. Did anyone tell you that time stops in your world while you're here? There's a welcome pamphlet that might interest you."

"Nobody told me anything. They were all extremely unhelpful, and I was concussed and intoxicated." Bernard says.

Which is his way of saying yes please he would like a pamphlet.

Alana stands, straightening her skirt. "Why don't we go back to the bar and get a welcome brochure? And I can answer any questions you might have after. Has anyone looked at you for your concussion?"

She starts leading the way back to the bar, her steps measured and sure in high heels on the grass.

"Yes, I think quite a few people looked at me and then had a good laugh." Bernard says.

He gets up and follows her.

"No, I meant someone professional," Alana says, shaking her head. "Did you want someone from the infirmary to take a look? I'm surprised you're ambulatory."