milliways_bar | (no subject)

Barry is at the counter with a cup of coffee working through his third plate-sized ham and cheese omelet.

He ducks his head instinctively when the gust hits, then whips his head around, jaw dropping. Other people might not be able to see the silver blur, but Barry's head turns as he tracks the man running through the bar and out the open back door.

For a moment lightning flickers over Barry as he sparks, gearing up to give chase, then winks out as he hesitates and settles back on his stool. He gives a wary glance around as the air settles from the gust and the rats pick themselves up, then frowns at himself and watches anxiously to see if the guy will come back.

When the stranger casually walks in through the back door Barry stares.

Ostentatiously-not-ostentatiously, Peter pushes his goggles up onto his forehead and approaches the Bar. "Hey," he offers by way of greeting, and then-

"This seat taken?" Because if it was, they're going to have to find somewhere else to sit; Peter's claimed their stool, ha. "Thanks."

Barry shakes his head dumbly before finally snapping to, "Oh, uh, n-- no, go for it."

He offers a smile and makes a bit more room by pulling his plate with its giant omelet a little closer.

The goggles get a scan over, as does the rest of the guy. Barry tries to be surreptitious about it, but he's not exactly great at covert.

"Sweet. Bar, donuts? You do donuts here, right? Or, what-d'you-call-'em, like jelly donuts but with the chocolate goop inside?"

Whatever the word for them is supposed to be, there's about five of them on the plate that appears. Peter grins and pats the Bar's surface with one hand. "Awesome. Thanks, Bar. Looking for something, pal?"

It's not hostile, or at least it doesn't sound that way. Peter's just never been any good at changing targets of conversation with any kind of grace.

The donuts get a glance, and then Barry blinks, realizing a little too late that he's being addressed.

"Oh, no, sorry, I uh-- I just-- " Awkwardness, Barry is thy name.

He flounders a moment, and then finally just gives.

"How did you do that?" he asks, nodding over his shoulder to indicate the guy's entrance.

"Talent. And practice." He takes a big chunk out of the nearest available donut. "Mostly talent, though. They don't have mutants where you come from?"

It's a pretty safe guess when he's talking to Milliways, but you never entirely know.

Recognition of the term shows in Barry's expression, and he shakes his head and sort of shrugs in one gesture.

"Mutant. Yeah, no uh... not quite. But, I've heard of mutants. It's just... a little different in my world."

"Gotcha. Name's Peter. Hi there," says Peter, remembering at the last half-second to wipe the chocolate goo off his fingers before waving what he considers to be a proper greeting. "Different how?"

"Barry," he replies and starts to offer his hand, but when Peter waves Barry gives a chin-nod and smile instead.

Taking a drink from his coffee, he turns on his stool a little to better face Peter.

"Well, from what I've heard and understand, I guess the primary difference is it's not genetic. In my world the people with powers are called metahumans, and they got their powers from an accidental explosion."

"Huh. Just one?" Down goes another donut. "What, was it a satellite exploding and scattering stuff in the air or Three Mile Island or something?"

Ah, the Seventies.

Barry shifts, just a touch uncomfortably. "Yeah. It was an experimental Particle Accelerator that blew up and cast a wave of dark matter across the city."

"Oh, so it's only in one place, then," says Peter. "Okay. There's mutants in a bunch of countries, but nobody ever heard of 'em before, I dunno, ten or fifteen years ago. No idea what set it off."

He's met mutants older than that, of course, but seriously, he's gone through all the newspaper archives at like five different libraries and come within a hairsbreadth of ruining a microfiche reader, and none of the newspaper articles or magazines he's seen mentioned people with actual genuine powers before that time frame.

"Pretty sure it wasn't dark matter, though. I never heard of that stuff before just now."

"Yeah, I guess it was kind of lucky it was pretty localized."

Working on his omelet while Peter talks about the rest, Barry cants his head.

"That's kind of weird. It does seem like there had to have been some sort of catalyst if there's no prior mention. But yeah, I doubt it was dark matter. It took a whole lot to generate the explosion and resulting wave and I don't think something like that would've gone unnoticed."

"Mom thinks it was something in the water," says Peter, who has acquired coffee from somewhere and inhaled another donut in the meantime. "Fluoridation or something. Or atomic testing. I mean, it's not like there's fallout all over the country or anything, but she thinks there was fallout all over the country and they're just not telling us. She's just guessing, though. You'd think there'd be way more mutants if that was it."

"It is definitely not fluoridation of the water," Barry says, shaking his head no, because he's heard all the wild conspiracy theories on that one.

Barry polishes off the omelet and receives his own donuts from Bar after she takes the empty plate.

Biting into one, he asks, "So are your parents mutants?" It would make sense if it was a genetic condition.

"Mom's not," Peter says. "Dad-"

He grimaces and wiggles one hand in midair.

"Never met him. Mom doesn't talk about him. Working on tracking him down. One of my sisters is, but she's just weird, she's not fast like me."

He nods, not about to press on what seems like a touchy subject regarding parents.

Instead, he focuses on Peter's power.

"Yeah, I saw you. That was-- pretty fast."

"I know, right?" says Peter. (Modesty is for other people.) "I was practicing running along the top of the creek. Turns out bridges count as doors when it comes to getting here."

Barry smiles, then his eyes widen.

"For real? I didn't know that... " Every door that has brought him here he's had to open, but if Milliways can grab a person at speed... that could get tricky.

"So then just like, any entryway could bring you here?"

He wants to reiterate that he saw Peter running, but that feels like an awkward thing to say.

"Well, if you're thinking about the place when you run under them or through them, yeah," Peter says. "Otherwise I'd be in and out of here every time I go out and mess with the cops trying to catch speeders."

Radar guns. Heh. They're funny.

"You have any metahumans that can do that kind of thing?"

Barry gives Peter a look and shakes his head a little.

"That's not funny."

On the question he gives another one of those shrugging head shakes.

"I uh-- well... " Okay, he can do this, and who better to test the being open about his abilities thing with than another speedster, right?

Taking a breath, Barry scratches at his shoulder then turns it into a finger tap against his chest and an awkward, "I maybe, do that kind of thing?"

Up go the eyebrows.

"'Maybe'?"

"Yeah... I have superspeed." There, he said it, please don't turn out to be a crazy supervillain, Peter. "I've heard of other speedsters, but I didn't know anyone else came here to Milliways."

Except for those who come with a plethora of powers, like Wonder Woman.

~~Don't be silly, that's his father.~~

"Huh," says Peter. "That's kinda awesome. Can't say I know any mutants with my kind of speed. How fast are you, do you know?"

Because if there's actually someone who can move at a respectable pace for once-

"Wanna race? Out back?"

Barry smiles, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

"Well, I cruise about three-fifty, but I've pushed it to over seven."

And he's been told he has the potential for much more.

Glancing at the back door, his smile grows wider and he nods. "Sure."