AU week cont.

[thewidewideworld]

Sam comes down to the bar, dressed in his newly selected, more masculine wardrobe. Hair cut higher, it curls around his jaw, a darker honey shade than before.

He pulls a few notes from a billfold and orders a handful of accessories from the bar.

He can be found sipping coffee and ageing the leather on a new wallet.

{ooc: feel free to recognise him as the fem version of himself from earlier in the week, or not. Up to you.}

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"I like what you've done there."

That's Hannibal Lecter, approaching with a glass of white wine for himself, and a board of apéro style nibbles.

[thewidewideworld]

"It's you I should be thanking." He runs his hands down the lovely fitted vest. "The wardrobe you helped me select is very flattering."

He shakes out his trimmed curls. "The hair will take more getting use to. I've not worn it this short since before Sin."

[cook_the_rude]

"I don't think I've ever seen you with short hair," Hannibal says.

[thewidewideworld]

"I've always been dreadfully vain about my hair. Cutting it off was a trial." He confesses with a sigh. "I know I can grow it out again but it's still strange."

[cook_the_rude]

"It is a big sacrifice to make, but one that often marks the beginning of a new phase in life," Hannibal says. "And I like it."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

There is a big, strong biker by the bar, drinking beer.

[thewidewideworld]

Sam notices him, watching him with interest. There's a little voice in the back of his head that wonders if maybe Sam should ride a bike?

"Excuse me, may I ask what you ride?" His voice is cultured and British.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Yes, it's a Harley," the biker says. "You can't argue with a classic."

[thewidewideworld]

"Just so. But I fear a Hayley might be a little heavy for me. I may have to look into something lighter."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"You look like somebody who'd ride one of those high-legged Japanese numbers, like a Suzuki maybe," the biker muses.

[sunbaked_baker]

The hunter - her red hair clean and neatly braided to keep it out of her way, her dark clothes free of the dust and sweat of hard travel for the first time in weeks, her rucksack re-packed and settled in its accustomed place at her back, the leather straps of her light armor in place and her long daggers at her sides - comes down to the bar room, ready to head out again. On the other side of the door, she's a good ways from a haven, and dusk is settling in quick.

But the smell of coffee catches her... surely she has time for a cup before she goes back? She'll be sick of campfire coffee again soon enough.

A few minutes later the woman is settling in with the necessary coffee, people-watching. Spotting the apparent young man nearby with his own cup of coffee, she watches him work with idle curiosity. Should she catch his attention, she'll offer him an impersonal but generally friendly smile, and a brief salute with her coffee cup.

[thewidewideworld]

"I recommend the Italian press. It's very, very good." His accent is British and polished with just the hint of somewhere else.

[sunbaked_baker]

"Italian press, huh?" she lifts her eyebrows, curious, and wanting to make sure she has the phrase correct. Her own accent is perhaps some otherworldly cousin of rural Midwestern American. It's close, but not exact. "I'll have to try that."

"Sounds better than what one can make over a campfire, at any rate," she grins. "If you're interested, ask the Bar for Ebony, sometime. It's quite good - rare to find even where they stock it, back home."

[thewidewideworld]

"I confess. I've become rather addicted. It will be quite a loss when I have to leave the bar's ready supply."

"Ebony? I shall try it, thank you."

[sunbaked_baker]

"I know that feeling," she says, with a slight chuckle. "Every time I'm here, the temptation to stock up on Ebony is hard to resist, because I know it'll be a good while before I find any more."

"I'll have to try the Italian press. I need a new coffee addiction like I need a hole in the head, but who can resist?" she grins. She seems like a woman whose life has room for few luxuries.

[electro_kinetic]

A Tyroshi woman sitting at the bar is watching him, head cocked with her hair neatly braided; it's shorn quite close to the scalp, but the rest of it is left long enough to touch her jaw, brightly blue with one purple streak.

Dyes are a big thing in Tyrosh: it's their one major trade, short of being really good at collecting professional mercenaries.

"Why do you want that to look old?" she asks.

[thewidewideworld]

"Not old." Sam eyes his work critically. "Just worn enough not to look new."

[electro_kinetic]

"So old," she says frankly, swirling her tea in the metal cup she's holding. "But why?"

[thewidewideworld]

"Because the person it belongs to has been able to afford a wallet like this for some time. Long enough for it to have worn in a little."

[electro_kinetic]

"And that person is not you?" she asks; now it gets interesting!

[quick_clean_pure]

Graverobber's just chilling at the bar, and hasn't been around enough during the past week or so to notice anything weird. So when Sam comes down, his eyebrows go up and he gives him a curious, somewhat appreciative look.

[thewidewideworld]

Sam notices the look and greets it with one of his own - curious, open, but a little arrogant. Like he knows he's worth looking appreciatively at.

[quick_clean_pure]

Graverobber grins at that, tipping his beer at him. "Nice look you got going there," he says, not minding the arrogance in his expression.

[thewidewideworld]

"Thank you." he runs his hands down the slender lines of his vest. "I've worked hard for it."

He gives Graverobber a look, like he doesn't mind a bit of rough. You're not looking too bad yourself."

[quick_clean_pure]

He grins at that. "Thanks," he answered, "though I didn't have to work all too hard for it on my end."