milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"You have GOT to be kidding me."

Standing in the open doorway, Cisco stares at the bar shaking his head.

With a sigh he tosses his toolbelt onto a bench beside the doorway and steps through into Milliways, letting the door close behind him.

His annoyance at what he had to go through to get here evaporates quickly, and when he takes a seat at the counter he’s all smiles.

"Hi, Bar. Remember me?"

That is absolutely not a squeal of delight when Bar produces a napkin with a cheerful greeting and a mug of Butterbeer to go along with it, anyone who hears one is clearly just imagining things.

Taking a drink, he turns on his stool to observe the bar at large, wondering just what exactly he can get into this time.

[ooc: link leads to a short oom.]

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Graverobber is sitting off to one side, sipping a cheap American lager out of a frosted mug. He tilts his head at the sight of the caramel-looking beer that pops up from the counter, which seems much more dessert-like than the typical lagers he's seen.

"What kind of drink is that?" he asks, nodding at the mug, curious.

"It's a Butterbeer," Cisco replies, licking foam from his lip.

He looks over and then head tilts a little at the man, before raising his mug in a salute. "It's great."

"Neat," he says, nodding his head and raising his mug in kind. "So it's beer that tastes like...butter?" Graverobber is sadly unfamiliar with the mythos that is Harry Potter.

"Mm, more butterscotch-ish." He takes a drink, smacking his lips. "It's kind of a hard flavor to describe."

"Huh, okay," Graverobber says, surprised. That actually sounds kind of delicious, possibly. "Is it real beer, too?"

"Minor booze content," he admits, holding up his thumb and forefinger pinched together in illustration.

"It'll get a House-elf drunk, though."

"Ah, boo to that, then," he says. "Was thinking of ordering one. Maybe I still will, and just dunk a shot in, car-bomb style."

Taking a sip of his drink, he adds, "Don't know what a house-elf is, though. Elves that quit living in the woods?"

"That might could work," Cisco says with a chuckle about the shot.

He doesn't clap a hand over his mouth over the house-elves, but it's a near thing. Instead he takes another drink and shakes his head.

"Just-- never mind."

Throwing a smile, he changes topics, "My name's Cisco, by the way. From Central City. Earth." He's still getting the hang of introductions.

Graverobber nods at him and says, "Good to meet ya. I'm from Earth, too, over in California." Taking a sip of his drink, he asks, "What year are you from, if that's not too weird a question?"

"Oh cool, from the mid-west myself. Central City, Missouri," Cisco replies with a smile, then grins. "That's right, the whole timeline convergence thing! I'm from 2014, you?"

"2056. I seem to be way ahead of everybody else, or at least out of the Earth folks," he says. "Most everyone else is somewhere around your time period, at least that I've talked to so far. Met one guy who's from the time of Constantine, but pretty much everyone else is early 21st century."

"The future, coooool. Do you have flying cars or teleporters yet?" Cisco asks, attention rapt now.

"...not really," Graverobber says, definitely getting the feeling that he was about to really harsh this guy's vibes. "The future didn't, ah, really go so great. Think like plagues and ecological downfalls and shit. But it's stable...or, okay, stable-ish now, so that's good?"

"That sucks," Cisco says, his brow knitting. "So the future is Mad Max, then."

Or at least this guy's future is. Hopefully Cisco's own will turn out better.

"Guess I can't blame ya for wanting something more boozy than a Butterbeer."

"....I'm not sure what that means, but it's not great, no," Graverobber agrees. Pop culture didn't survive too well after the plague. "I mean, the plague's over, so that's nice. But there's a whole bunch of other shit that came after that, so, you know, it's still kind of shitty. But hey, at least I found the magical supernatural bar with unlimited alcohol, so that's been pretty sweet."

"It's alright, most people don't know what I mean," Cisco replies with a shrug.

"Whelp, here's to magical supernatural bars, then." He lifts his mug and salutes the man again.

"Cheers to that," he says, raising and tipping his beer towards Cisco before taking a swig. "So where is Central City? I admit, I ain't too familiar with the Midwest, but I never heard of it."

"No?" he asks, a bit surprised by that. "We're right on the Missouri River, and kind of a big deal. I mean, not like New York big, or I guess Starling City since their big almost apocalypse, but definitely on the map."

That's still not ringing any bells for Graverobber, but then again, the world has changed a hell of a lot in the last 40 years in his time, so hey, maybe there was one at some point. "Must not be as big in my time, or maybe it goes by another name," he says with a slight shrug. "Stuff changed kind of drastically over the last few decades, so who knows."

"Yeah, maybe. I'm still figuring out how stuff works here," he already compiling a list of things to ask Barry who seems to have been coming here awhile.

"What about you, where in California are you from?"

"Genetic City. It's only existed for about the last thirty years or so," he says. "A company called GeneCo set up shop in the Bay Area and got huge, and a city basically cropped up around them the bigger they got. I've been there basically since birth."

"GeneCo? That sounds like an evil corporation," Cisco notes.

He's totally joking, but at the same time not, because seriously, it's got a kind of Blue Sun, Umbrella Corporation vibe to it.

Graverobber makes a low, unreadable noise while he tries to phrase his reply. "They're...complicated," is what he eventually says, taking another sip of his drink before continuing. "I mean, they're evil, I'm not denying that. They also saved the world. So most people love 'em."

Cisco arches a brow.

"Okay... " He kind of gets it, though. It's almost the opposite of S.T.A.R. Labs; they're not evil, but after a giant explosion most people hate them. And now they're saving the world, or the city, at least...

"We'll go with complicated," he says with a nod, agreeing to leave it there.

"Complicated is a good word for it," he says, shrugging slightly. "But whatever, I'm biased against 'em probably anyway. But you're not wrong that they're kind of, ah, evil and scary and shit."