milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It's Cassidy's first Halloween at Milliways.

Cassidy wouldn't have made such a big deal about it. It would've been just like any other day.

Except that the moment that he orders a drink from the bar, fwoomp, he's suddenly dressed as an 18th century wanker, complete with a blond wig that won't come off.

"What- what the fuck- no- shitshitshitshit NOOO-"

A napkin appears on the bartop.

Yes.

"No! Whyyyy? Why this? What did I ever do to you??"

Another napkin.

You never pay off your tab?

Cassidy flails his ruffles and blond locks. "Besides that?!"

The Bar only responds with a smiley face.

"SHITE!"

The vampire Lestat is not happy.

(At least he wasn't given fake fangs. A small mercy.)

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"James Bond, someone told me about him. That's nothing like what I do,"

He starts taking apart the pen while he talks, spying isn't elegant, its messy.

"Eh, well, then it was just an excuse to put you in something the complete opposite of what you normally wear," he says with a shrug.

"Like this bullshit."

Cassidy hates what he's wearing, if he hasn't made that clear yet.

"Yes, let's get something to drink. Has anyone ever mentioned to you having odd dreams around this holiday?"

A drink never hurts and he wants to know if he should expect his father again.

"A drink sounds hellaciously good right about now," he mutters.

"Odd dreams? No, I don't think so. Odd like how?"

"Like ghosts, but realer. Bottle of whiskey or stronger?"

Edited 2017-11-03 00:24 (UTC)

"Wouldn't mind a go at that Corellian whiskey," he suggests.

He then squints thoughtfully at Cassian's description.

"Like ghosts, but realer. Mmmyeah, no, I don't get that. What, d'you mean like, you saw ghosts in your dream but the ghosts were real people?"

"I don't know if I was asleep, but I saw someone that I know is dead and not here,"

A nice bottle appears in front of them and Cassian pours out two generous glasses.

"Riiiight. Annnnd...you were sober?"

Because that totally could've been a factor.

He rolls his eyes at Cassidy with a look, "Yes, I was sober. I'd fallen asleep over a book."

"What?? I dunno what you'd been doing, just asking to cover all the bases. But I still don't really get what the problem is, mate, your subconscious just made you dream about someone who's dead, an' maybe that person meant a lot to you, so they seemed, well, realer than a normal dream."

Cassian nods, looking into his drink, "Yes, that's probably it. I'm just overthinking it."

Edited 2017-11-04 16:07 (UTC)

It's hard to look properly concerned in a stupid wig, but Cassidy tries anyway. He pats Cassian on the shoulder once he sees that it's got him thinking too much on it.

"Maybe. Hey, who was it, then? In your dream?"

"My father, he died when I was a boy, but he felt and smelled the same,"

He takes a long drink, his father's voice seemed so real especially how sad he was about Cassian becoming a soldier.

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that, mate," he murmurs, and he lifts his glass in a small salute and takes a drink, too. "You've never dreamed about him like this before?"

“No, I’ve dreamed about him dying, he was off planet when it happened, at a protest, but never him sitting there and talking with me,”

The drink helps as the burn of the whiskey is steadying.

"Wow. Huh." He frowns deeply, wondering if this does mean something different after all. "An' he was talkin' to you like nothing ever happened or was he aware that he'd died?"

"He knew he was dead. He said it was good to see me grown up. I was taller than him."

"Jaysus, mate," he mutters, taking a sip of his drink. "You remember this conversation happening as clearly as you an' me are talkin' right now?"

"Yes, it only happened last night. He was drinking hot chocolate,"

Cassian takes another drink, wrapping his hands around the glass.

He huffs a breath, rubbing his forehead. "I mean, no offense, but that's kinda creepy. Like that would seriously creep me the fuck out if I saw me Ma or me Da or-- or a lot of people. I dunno, mate. It must be a Milliways thing. As per usual. But hey, y'know, look on the bright side. At least it was a way of gettin' to talk to your father again."

"It is, kind of nice but also strange," Creeped out isn't exactly the phrase he'd use but he has no idea how to even think about this.

"I've never liked ghost stories and the dead are already odd here."

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