milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Wilford is feeling better today. Marginally. He doesn't feel like he's going to die, at least.

His mood has not improved. He's currently at the bar, holding what he has since learned to be a great dane puppy on top of it, trying to convince the bar to take the creature back.

I can't do that.

He looks at the napkin and flings it away. "Why not?" Ow. He powers through the pain in his face, because this is an argument he is going to win.

Logistics.

"The fuck does that mean!?" he shouts.

Ow. Fuck. He cringes and grabs the side of his face. Everything hurts and this isn't helping.

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Another dog pads over to investigate the giant puppy.

Bailey (which is totally not her name, no matter what Nichola says), looks down at the other dog, and barks feebly.

"Shut up, you're going home," Wilford tells her.

But the bar has gone silent, and shows no indication of willingness to take the puppy back where it came from.

"Bar doesn't transport animals." Carlotta informs him, following her dog.

Rufus sniffs Bailey and wags his tail.

"Sure it does. That's where this one came from."

It didn't. But Wilford hasn't figured that out yet.

Bailey wants to get down to play with the other dog, but Wilford won't let her. She'll run off or get hurt or break something, and he'll be blamed.

"Not unless she's gained new skills since I was last here. Teja always had to get his cats from other worlds." Carlotta says, patting the giant puppy.

"Why do you want to return her? She's lovely, pedigree too, by the looks of her."

She is the saddest puppy ever! She just wants to play and be petted!

"Someone thought they were being funny."

As soon as he says it out loud, he realises exactly who thought he was being funny.

"Oh, that bitch!"

Jim Moriarty is a dead man. Again.

"Someone here messes with giving unwanted animals for fun?" Carlotta doesn't approve of that.

As it happens, Wilford's changed his mind about the dog. Just now. He kept the other one out of spite; he can keep this one for the same reason. He doesn't have a collar, but he does have Buster's bright pink leash in his inventory, which appears in Wilford's hand out of nowhere. He clips it onto itself, creating a loop which he slips around the puppy's neck.

"There you go. Have fun," he says, putting Bailey onto the floor so she can play with Carlotta's dog without running away.

Carlotta looks at the dog, as it plays with Rufus. She spots him take the lead from nowhere, but just assumes he's a magician.

"Isn't there anyone here or in your world who would adopt her?" she asks, half-inclined to offer, apart from the fact that she lives in a caravan and it's already rather cramped with her, two kids and a dog.

If he is a magician, he's the best one in the world. The leash appeared with no flourish. In fact, there was no motion at all during the brief pause while Wilford dug it out of his inventory.

"Nah, I'm going to keep her. Like you said, she's pedigree."

Carlotta nods, in approval.

"I doubt you'll regret it, they're intelligent dogs, very faithful family pets." she offers him a hand. "Carlotta Brown, nice to meet you."

Who said anything about a family? The assumptions people make.

"Wilford Warfstache," he says, shaking her hand.

It throws him for a second. That's the first time he's said his own name since the surgery, and it sounds wrong somehow.

No assumption; besides, she counts dogs as family.

"Where are you from, Wilford?"

"Los Santos. You heard of it?"

He doubts it. Nobody here has for some reason.

"West coast America?" Carlotta guesses.

"Couple hours north of Mexico. You been there?"

He's curious, but not exactly hopeful.

She shakes her head.

"My children's aunt married an American, we went with her once to Los Angeles, but nowhere else."

Edited 2018-07-10 20:24 (UTC)

"Then there wasn't a Los Santos to go to," Wilford says.

He shakes his head in return. "For some reason, where there's one, there isn't the other."

"That's quite common here. Guppy's city is the same."

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