milliways_bar | (no subject)

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moist von lipwig

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Moist opens the door with a smile on his face that freezes slightly when he sees Milliways. Its been a while, then walks through, loosening the scarf at his neck. The Sto Plains are having a cold spell that he's not enjoying, it makes it harder to leave without questions.

He's in a tweed suit that's fraying a little at the edges as he walks to the counter and orders a hot toddy before leaning against the Bar to observe Milliways.

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Graverobber's just chilling and drinking a beer. He really only notices Moist when he sees the hot toddy appear, and makes note of the wisdom of ordering hot cocktails when it's cold out. He'll have to remember to get hot cider or something next.

He nods at Moist, expression friendly enough. "Whatcha drinking?"

Moist looks Graverobber over, that's a distinctive style, "Hot toddy, good whiskey, honey and lemon."

"Nice pick," he says with a nod. "May copy your style after I'm done with this. I'm realizing cold beer in winter is probably not the way to go."

"No, warm beer can work if its a rich enough stout. You coming in from the cold too?"

He's curious where this man's from.

"Eh, I can't say I'm much of a stout guy. My tastes have been scarred by too many years of terrible cheap American lager," he says with a slight laugh.

"I'm coming in from cold-for-where-I-am, let's say. I'm from the warmer parts of California, so it's really only like thirty degrees or so out there. Not that bad, really, but colder than I'd like."

Moist tries to recall discussions of Earth and where California is, "I grew up with good beer but some nights need the whiskey in a toddy. Near the water?"

"Hm, that's fair, whiskey's certainly gonna carry a hell of a lot more of a punch to it," he says. "Yeah, my city is right off the ocean. It's not a bad spot, though it isn't as pretty as it used to be."

Nodding at Moist, he asks, "Where're you from?"

"The Sto Plains on the Disc. I'm on the outskirts of Quirm, a nice city,"

One that he's always done well in.

Graverobber recognizes exactly none of those words, so: probably not Earth then. Cool. "Nice. I'm assuming it's winter there, too, or did you just come in from the outside part of he bar?"

"Its winter out there, all the cabbages are covered with snow."

"Seems like that wouldn't be fun for the cabbages," Graverobber muses, taking a sip of his drink. "How cold is it?"

"Not freezing, but it has been. I wasn't going far from where I live so I wasn't too bundled up."

"Fair enough," he says. "You a farmer if you're snowing where there's cabbages, or something else and there's just cabbages about?"

"My name's Alfred and I work in finance, but the business of the Sto Plains is mainly cabbage."

"So do you trade in, like, the finance of cabbage?" he asks with eyebrows up. Hey, no judging if he is, he's just never heard of a place that built its economy on cabbage. "Or is that just a part of the whole thing?"

"Gods, no, I usually work more in financing mines and land. But its hard to be in the Sto Plains and not know about cabbage since its everywhere,"

And as a good businessman, he has to be able to talk about everything.

"Ah, okay," Graverobber says. He's still not entirely clear what this guy's talking about, but whatever. That's par for the course with the bar. "And I'm guessing the locals must talk a bunch about their favorite crop, I assume."

"They do and you have to be a good listener if they're going to trust you with money. What about you? What do you do?"

"I sell drugs," he says cheerfully. After two months of being at the bar, he's basically stopped being coy about his profession. It's not like it's a secret anymore, so why not? "Specifically, a grade-A medical painkiller from my world that could numb an elephant."

Moist brightens up at that, someone open about being outside the law is nice, "Wonderful. I'm a con man. Is selling this drug a good business in your world?"

Edited 2018-01-12 04:11 (UTC)

Graverobber lets out a short, sharp laugh. "Ah, so that kind of finance," he says. Still, he's pleased to run into a fellow lawbreaker as well (though he does make a mental note not to leave his stuff lying around). "It's decent enough business. Plenty of willing customers, and plenty of stuff to sell. Just risky as shit getting your hands on it. Still, decent risk, decent reward, you know?"

"I do. There's always someone trying to cut a better deal."

"Oh, always," he agrees. Whether by lower prices or ease of use, or just making it so damned dangerous to get a hold of, in his case. "So what exactly kind of cons do you run?"

"Selling mines that don't exist, the poor but respectable young man down on his luck that needs you to invest in the family something. What makes your drugs so risky to get?"

"The cops'll shoot you on sight if they even think they caught you trying to get some," he says with a grim smile. "And since you have to spend a lot of time in cemeteries to get what you need, that makes it a lot easier for the cops to know exactly where to patrol. Only way to make a living out of it is to be sneaky as hell and run fast."