milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

barry allen

(no subject)

Danny enters, looking over his shoulder saying, "Merci! J'espère que tes fils vont bien," as he walks through the front door.

(In his travels, Danny has quickly learned that appearing French, rather than American is a good thing. He's not quite sure why, but ease of travel is more important that national pride at the moment.)

Outside the door is hot and dusty, and Danny is now scruffier than before. He's wearing a rough salwar kameez that is travel stained, canvas shoes, a weeks old beard, and that youth gleam in his eye. Seeing where he is once he turns around, he smiles and heads for Bar.

"Can I have the largest Yoohoo and soft pretzel you have? Merci...ah, thanks, I mean." He tears into the still warm dough and sighs in memory. Just like the one's you get at Central Park.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

X is standing behind him, wearing a yellow and blue uniform with the hood down so her face and head are visible.

"Danny."

Beat.

"You are okay?"

She is totally not eyeing his soft pretzel. At all.

But if X steals it and it turns into a fight, who would bring order to the bar?

He turns and his eye brows raise. "Um...X? I'm alright, I guess. Is this a new security uniform?" He can't help thinking it makes her look like a comic book character, which, he also has to admit, is pretty cool.

The Loompas, obviously. Or maybe Thor.

X blinks, head tilting slightly as she studies Danny.

Then --

"Oh."

Beat.

"No. It is what I wear at home. Now. When I am working."

Danny tears off another piece of doughy nostalgia and asks, "Can I ask what it is you do at home when you are working?"

He missed that part somehow.

And just incase he's coming across as rude, he adds, "I do like it. If that matters."

"I protect people."

Beat.

"I am the Wolverine."

Because the old one is dead. Well, not the old one, old man Logan is still around. But the first one.

"Oh my gosh, you're a super hero. Like Captain America!"

Danny is clearly thrilled by this idea.

X reaches up to pat Danny's shoulder. Once.

"It is not inaccurate."

Beat.

"I have worked with some of the Avengers. At home. But I am not one."

She's an X-man, through and through.

Danny takes a seat and gestures for her to join him if she'd like.

"You guys have more than one team? Wow. Can I get you a pretzel or something else?"

X considers this for a moment, then slips into a seat next to Danny.

"A pretzel is okay. No mustard."

Beat.

"Thank you."

Danny smiles happily. Sharing a meal with another fellow warrior is good.

"You can have it with whatever. My dad used to steal mine when I would top them with cheese, so I switched to mustard."

If sadness had a scent, a spike of it just came from Danny.

"Cheese is acceptable," X says.

And, after a momentary silence, because X can definitely recognize the biochemical markers of sadness --

"You can steal some of mine."

Edited 2017-08-24 01:27 (UTC)

Danny pauses in thought and then gives a slight shrug.

"Maybe for old times sake. You are doing okay?"

X tilts her head, studying Danny for a moment.

Then --

"Yes."

Beat.

"I am okay. Too."

"That's good."

Danny finishes the mustard piece before tearing off a new piece to dip in the cheese. Another bite, which he chews while he turns thoughtful.

Assuming X allows the silence, he eventually asks, "Do you know why people in Afghanistan don't seem to like Americans very much?"

X blinks. Twice. She picks up a pretzel and tears off a piece, chewing on it slowly.

And after swallowing --

"Americans have been at war with them. For fifteen years."

A pause.

"Many have died."

Danny tears off another piece and chews it without mustard of cheese.

"I guess that explains it." He is not certain how he feels about war, but if it causes the anger and suspicion he's seen, as well as the damage, he doesn't think he likes it. Which is sort of ironic given his status as a warrior and immortal weapon. Perhaps this is an example of the duality of life the monks told him about?

"That seems a very long time."

The young man sitting not too far away from Danny presents a bit of a contrasting image. In blue jeans and a sweater over a button down and sans beard with a pair of Converse sneakers on, Barry could never be mistaken for scruffy.

Filling in the boxes on a report, and working through a box of donuts, Barry happens to hear the order and the sigh and glances over with a smile.

"What, no cheese?"

Danny smiles back, which might not be as friendly looking as he thinks it is.

"I used to do cheese. But then my dad used to steal pieces from me, so I started dipping in mustard cause he hated it."

"Nice donuts!"

That smile is a little... yeah, but Barry accepts it hoping it's a friendly one.

He does make a slight face at the mention of mustard, though. "Joe likes mustard on his pretzels; he's my foster dad. I never got into that." Give him cheese, or give him nothing.

Glancing at the donut in his hand he smiles, "Thanks. They're from this great place in Central City. Want one?"

He turns the box around, holding the lid open in offering.

A warm and delightly smile manages to shine through the beard.

"Seriously? Thanks!" He grabs a chocolate old fashioned and takes a bite, closing his eyes to savor the sweetness. "I haven't had a donut in fifteen years. Oh, these are the best."

"Seriously?" he asks, blinking at the man. "Wh--where have you been that didn't have donuts?"

Not a place Barry likely wants to go.

Danny has to take a moment for his jaw to unclench from the sugar over load.

"The heavenly city of K'un Lun. Its gates only open once every fifteen years."

"Heavenly city?" Barry's expression is slightly skeptical, but after looking the man over again Barry tries to keep an open mind.

"Are you like a monk or something?"

Danny shakes his head.

"Kind of, but not really. More Shaolin monk than a Catholic monk. The Order was pretty isolated, so things like sugar or chocolate were unheard of, if the elder monks would even allow them had they been available."

"Shaolin? Like, Kung Fu?"

Danny nods enthusiastically.

"Exactly. Though they teach a much more mystical form of the art."

"That's so cool." Barry is impressed, at least.

He pulls another donut to munch on, canting his head. "So why the isolation? Fifteen years is a long time."

"I'm not that sure to be honest. Some of the monks say K'un Lun is separate from the world during that time, others say it's the storms. I know when I started guarding the passage to the heavenly city, the way was constantly blocked by snowstorms and winds."

"Separate from the world? Like, literally?" He's inclined to believe the snowstorms thing more, but for the example of Milliways.

"So you said 'mystic', is your world one of the ones with magic?" Barry is still on the fence about magic, much preferring the scientifically explainable, but he still tries to keep an open mind.

"Well, I don't think it's magic," Danny replies and pauses to think. "Did you ever see those old Kung fu movies were they punch swords to break them, or catch or break arrows in flight? Or heal people, or make them pass out with their bare hands? It's like that. The monks taught me to use my chi for more than just keeping my body working, as chi normally works."

Barry pulls another donut as he listens, nodding to the question about Kung Fu movies.

"You can do all that?" he asks with excitement rather than skepticism.

Cassian's ordering a caf and about to search for a table when the young man comes up, he looks like he could be a refugee, "Doing some rough traveling?"

He's in his captain's jacket with a datapad in front of him and his blaster at his hip, he's on base preparing for his next mission.

"Some," he replies with a nod, "and on foot. Well, I did get a ride with a donkey trail for a few leagues."

Danny takes in the jacket, datapad, and blaster, and grins. This man's world looks interesting.

"Donkey, I don't think I know what that is. A kind of creature you can ride? Are you a refugee?"

This man has that look about him.

Yeap, the guy is from some place other than Earth, an exited part of Danny decides.

"Yes, a pack animal Four legs and tends towards a nasty temper if not treated well. Not that I can blame them."

"And no, I'm not a refugee. I'm on my way home, from a world away, and I didn't have much to start with." He guesses in some ways he could be considered a refugee, but not in how he thinks the man means.

"Your home's there for you to return to?" He's met people trying that in the galaxy, they're rarely happy with what they find.

"It should be, although my family will not. I am hoping to find my father's best friend and business partner when I arrive. I grew up with him and his children." Danny laughs then. "I hope they'll recognize me."

"They'll probably be relieved to see you. How long have you been gone?" To have anyone to go back to is something to build on.

"It's been fifteen years. I'm not even sure if they'll remember me."

"Of course they will. I've known people who have searched the galaxy for any kind of family connection. To find you will be wonderful."

Sinric looks up from his book and smiles, addressing the man in archaic Frankish which is mostly recognisable to a modern French speaker. "Good day. You seems in need of rest and refreshment."

"Yes," he agrees in Mandarin accented French. Being quite skilled with languages, Sinric might catch the hints of America in his accent as well, though it is faint. Fifteen years of only speaking Mandarin will do that. "I've had a long journey and there is still much ahead of me."

Sinric notes the accent and switches naturally to Mandarin, again archaic being from the Tang Dynasty. "Then here you may rest, and give yourself readiness for the next stage of your journey. As I am."

Traveling is hard, but rewarding as well. Shall we share a pot of tea and eat together? I am Danny.

"Very gladly." Sinric answers, gesturing to a table. "I'm Sinric. May I ask where you're travelling to or from? I am a wanderer myself and other peoples' travels always fascinate me."

Danny moves to join him and takes to indicated seat.

"I've left the heavenly city of K'un Lun and am traveling through Afghanistan on my way to New York. I'm not certain of my path, but I am certain I will find my way. How about yourself?"

"K'un Lun? I don't recognise that name. But then the names of places change so much over time. I grew up in Constantinople, travelled the Silk Road to the Empire of the Tang, then to Nippon. My journey west took me through the Vengi kingdom then up the Nile through the southern lands of the Roman Empire. I'm in the Carolingian Empire of Franks."

"I think it's Istanbul now, at least in my world*." Danny stops to parse the rest of Sinric's words. He thinks the Vengi kingdom is the only one he can't place. "Where is the Vengi kingdom?"

[OOC: Obligatory, "Why they changed it, I don't know."]

"So I've heard." Sinric lowers his eyes on a moment of silence. "It saddens me to know my beloved master's empire fell to the bullish Turks."

He sighs and shakes it off. "Vengi kingdom held the southern most tip of the area called India?" He checks to be sure he's said it right. He's never quite sure till he's checked the pronunciation.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only