milliways_bar | Translation Fail

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Translation Fail - Outside Edition

It's that time again, when Wilford just maybe regrets getting into that fight with Jim. The one about the dog. About keeping it in Los Santos. And how that was bad.

Keeping the dog at Milliways means there are certain tasks that need to be undertaken, which Wilford hates because they're gross and horrible, and seriously he cannot wait until he can pay someone to do this crap for him. It's disgusting.

He's taken the dog to an area outside away from where most people congregate. Buster's inventory is full of rocks, literal garbage, and the predictable odd piece of random squirrel. His claws also need to be clipped, and he badly needs a bath, but Wilford isn't sure he has the energy for it. One thing at a time, until he can pay someone else to do it all at once.

[ooc: Wilford is outside, but on the opposite end of the grounds relative to the lake. However that works here. I'm not going to pretend to have the slightest clue.]

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Baze was outside as well, sparring with Chirrut. When they spot Wilford on the way back to the bar, the smaller Guardian breaks off, and starts heading towards Milliways proper. The larger one, with his staff slung across his shoulders, heads towards Wilford.

"[Hey, Asshole!]" Baze says in Jedhan, as is his usual wont. "[May the Force of others be with you! What are you up to?]"

Wilford gives up trying to control his idiot dog, and looks up at the absolute gibberish being shouted at him. He's used to being shouted at in absolute gibberish, but not here. So it takes him a bit by surprise.

"[The fuck are you talking about?]" he asks, in plain English.

Baze stops walking. Luckily, he's right before Wilford. The larger man blinks rapidly.

"[You're squawking again. Did the bar's magic fail?]"

Wilford tries very hard not to act like the entire universe is against him today, even though it feels like the entire universe is against him today. He sighs, and lets Buster do whatever he wants, which is not getting his claws clipped. It's dancing in front of Baze and demanding attention, apparently.

"[Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on now?]" he mutters.

Baze reluctantly reaches a hand out for Buster to sniff. He'd better not lick him.

"[We should probably ask Bar. She likely knows what's going on.]"

Of course Buster licks him. And then he tries to shove his head into Baze's hand to be petted.

Wilford ignores all this, of course. He's too busy trying to figure out what the hell Baze is saying.

"[What?]" He shakes his head and gets up from the bench, shooing Baze and Buster both back along the path. "[Get inside. I need a drink.]" This is all too much for one day.

Ewwwww. That's disgusting! Baze pats Buster on the head, gently if not enthusiastically. The Guardian withdraws his hand to wipe the dog spittle off on the thigh of his jumpsuit.

Kriffing gross.

And now Wilford is shooing him. Baze goes willingly, deciding that talking isn't the best use of his breath.

Wilford leaves the pile of rocks and trash on the ground to be dealt with by somebody else and starts heading inside as well. Buster doesn't seem to know or care that Baze doesn't want to pet him, and keeps being so close he's in danger of tripping the man.

"[Leave him alone,]" Wilford scolds.

Buster ignores him as well, feeling especially ornery today, apparently.

Thankfully, Baze is light on his feet for a man of his size. Still, his gait is a frustrating series of starts and stops, and he sighs as Buster frolics before him.

"[Your dog is the worst. I know you're attached to him, but good heavens, you couldn't have found a more annoying animal.]"

Wilford knows what complaining sounds like, even if he doesn't understand what's actually being said. Wilford picks up the dog, holding him under one arm like a sack of squirmy potatoes.

"[The fuck is wrong with you today?]" he asks his dog.

Buster has no answers. Only the desire to annoy everyone ever.

"[What the fuck are you hiding in your pockets to make him like this?]"

Baze has a lot of pockets, and a lot of them are stuffed with food. After starving for two decades, he's decided he's not going to go without. He has Chirrut's favorite snack: dried, spiced Gor apple rings, as well as three pieces of string cheese, five granola bars, a baggie of goldfish crackers, raisins, and two shortbread cookies, baked by Oswin specifically for him.

Not that he'll be able to tell Wilford any of that.

Baze slips his staff to his hand and shoulders open the back door. "Good, we made it to the bar. We can ask her now what the hell's going on," he says, speaking Jedhan as always, but they're near the babelfish.

Wilford almost responds to this, until he realises that something odd is going on. He stops outside the door, holding a finger up as if to make the entire world pause around him.

"What the fuck?" is the most elegant thing he can think to say.

"Oh, you're not squawking anymore," Baze says, blinking at him. The Guardian shifts his staff to his shoulder again, holding the bo in a loose grip.

"How come I can understand you now, but not outside?"

Wilford looks vaguely insulted at being told he was squawking, but there are more important things to deal with first.

He puts his dog down, and gives him a dirty look. "Stay there," he says harshly. Buster sits, looking sad at being reprimanded so suddenly. Just one more thing to puzzle at.

Wilford takes a step away from the door, looking at it like this is all somehow its fault.

"Is it still broken?"

"Apparently not?" Baze says, rolling his armored shoulders in a shrug.

He steps past Wilford, heading a dozen feet into the grounds. "[Can you still understand me?]" Baze calls, one hand cupped around his mouth.

Wilford shrugs dramatically. This is infuriatingly annoying. Something weird is happening, and he has no idea what, or why, or how, or any of the important details like that.

"[Did you do this?]" he demands of Buster. Buster breaks things all the time, so it's worth asking. Not that asking gets him anywhere, because Buster is a dog, and isn't even aware that something odd is happening around him.

"[Bunch of fucking magic bullshit.]"

Baze returns to the bar proper, lingering around the door.

"So as long as we stay inside, we can understand each other?"

Wilford glares at Baze, and then at the door again, and heads inside. What dim-witted idiot caused this? Whatever 'this' is?

"You act like I know. This is all brand new to me. The magic where I'm from tends to behave like it's supposed to."

Nothing about Milliways behaves like it's supposed to.

Baze scoffs, and starts heading to the bar proper. Two napkins pop up on her surface, one in Aurebesh and the other in English: Hello, boys!

After a brief discussion with her, which produces a flurry of napkins, Baze sighs and turns back to Wilford.

"[She won't tell me what's up.]"

Wilford watches all this, annoyed that he can't understand what's going on. He stands with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the bar.

When Baze addresses him in whatever weirdo space language that is, Wilford sighs, digs a lighter from his pocket, and lights his napkin on fire. He drops it on the floor, almost disappointed that it just burns itself out to a harmless smoulder.

That's what he thinks of this.

Well. There is that. Baze returns to the door, so he can speak and be understood.

"She won't explain what's going on. Either she doesn't know or she's being coy."

Not in the mood for charades, Wilford follows. This is stupid. Everything is stupid.

Wilford looks at Buster, who is frantically licking the wall next to the door. He wishes he knew what the dog got out of that, because it wore the paint off his wall at their old place.

"Do you know anything about the magic in this place?" he asks, using every ounce of self-control he has to not do something apocalyptically stupid. He will be calm, and cool, and collected, and save his rage for the moron who made this happen.

"No," Baze says, shifting his staff to one shoulder, and then the other. Wilford is in a mood, and Baze isn't sure what to do about it.

"It might be a good idea to hide in a room until this blows over."

Wilford is almost always in a mood. He's just sometimes better at controlling it than he is right now.

"No?" he asks. What kind of answer is that?

"This place has got a library, doesn't it?"

"Sure it does," Baze grumbles, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"But feel free to tell me if you find datapads or books or holovids about this place."

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