First Heist

[lupintrois]

Lupin has walked into a lot of deeply weird places. He's walked into the chambers of off-brand Freemason sorcerors, the guts of supercomputers, the secret lower experimentation chambers of Area 51, and whatever the hell Mamo was up to. This place isn't even the weirdest bar he's walked into. Except for the fact that's not where this door was supposed to go. Lupin leans back and forth, squinting at the shiny wood bar, the chairs, and the other people who seem to barely register that he's walked in with the same look of someone who's trying to figure out if they've gone into the wrong locker room at the gym.

Welp.

The lanky man stuffs his hands into his pockets and sidles into the room, his wide round eyes flickering back and forth as he tries to compute where the heck he is and where his broom closet went.

Comments

[thesecondjade]

Nobody keep Cultivators in the closet (though this one is recently out of his other closet, of a sort) but all the same, Lan Zhan is there. The last few visits have been absent one Wei Wuxian. He isn't sure if he should be relieved or pained; the last encounter was embarrassing to say the least.

Currently, he is sitting, looking at the door like he might somehow summon Wei Wuxian to him by force of will alone. It is, unfortunately, not going to work -- and in comes a monkey instead.

He doesn't exactly scowl at Lupin; that'd be far too much emoting for Lan Zhan. Instead he just remains resigned. Lupin hasn't done anything strange yet, but Lan Zhan isn't sure if that means he's new, or if he's just someone Lan Zhan hasn't met yet. So, for now, he watches, trying to figure which it is out.

[lupintrois]

That guy looks like he's dressed for his own funeral, and has the expression to match it. Goemon aspires to such level of resigned stoicism. Goemon trains for such levels.

So Lupin sits and scowls right back at him.

[thesecondjade]

Goemon is but a student at the foot of a master. Lan Zhan watches hiom for a moment more, and then says, "You are new."

The rest of the ritual is pure formality, that fits comfortably. Present hands, bow, "I am Lan Zhan, called Lan Wangji, and this is Milliways."

Minimal explanation given, he straightens, watches, and waits.

[lupintrois]

Is he...speaking...Lupin tries to focus enough to figure out what language the man is using (he's a polyglot) and focusing too hard on it makes his eyes water. He's used to switching between them easily but not whatever weird, watery situation means this man both is speaking a language he understands and not speaking a language he can identify as Chinese, or French, or whatever.

"You don't look like the barhopping type," he finally chooses to say, after a few moments of squinting.

[thesecondjade]

The Milliway's translation effect does it's best to parse, but there's always the occasional difficulty with certain cultural cues. Likely, Lan Zhan is translating into French, but there's probably something a little off about it.

"I am not," he replies. "The Bar herself does not care. She takes who she will. This is your first visit."

Not a question, just a bland statement of fact.

[lupintrois]

"Is...wait, is the Bar a woman?" Is this like that thing where ships are women, or is there a woman called Bar around here?

[thesecondjade]

"The Bar is a bar," Lan Zhan says, as he watches the man try to puzzle it out. "The Bar's spirit apparently aligns yin, and claims womanhood. Speak to her yourself."

There's a napkin on the Bar a moment.

Welcome to Milliway's, Lupin.

"She won't converse," Lan Zhan noted, "but she will send messages and understands request. She will also hold and pass objects to someone when they arrive."

[skyhigh_seance]

The number of lanky men of the bar is now up to two. There's a lanky man in a very sparkly tank top and a pair of lace-up leather pants sitting on a table (definitely on, center of the table, place of pride people), one knee tucked up against his chest as he delicately paints his toenails a sparkly orange. Bar told him it's getting near Halloween here, so gotta get festive, right?

[lupintrois]

Yowza. Looks like the kind of guy who's looking more for Albert than he is for Lupin (though Albert's taste in men is so dreadfully dull, always has been). At least he's interesting looking. Lupin sidles over and perches on the back of a chair next to him, head tilted and thoughtful.

"So, uh. You come here often?"

[skyhigh_seance]

Klaus looks up from his artwork with a lazy grin.

"Yeah man, have you seen their liquor supply?" He laughs, waving his tiny brush towards the massive wall of bottles. "Hi, I'm Klaus."

[lupintrois]

"Lupin the Third. And you know, I hadn't. Got any recommendations for me?" As Lupin looks over the bottles he notices the labels don't seem to match each other - that is, some are high shelf and some are rotgut, mixed in like a hobo rubbing elbows with an opera singer. The labels aren't all in the same language, too. Lupin's been in plenty of bars in plenty of countries and he can't identify what country he's supposed to be in just based on the booze.

"Weird question, Klaus. You want to tell me what this place is called?"

[skyhigh_seance]

"Oh, first time, huh? Yeah, this place is pretty awesome - it's Milliways, and it's a bar that can appear anywhere. I mean, you get some assholes sometimes, but there's this awesome gal on Security? Great taste in fashion. And, you know, all the liquor you could ever want."

And for Klaus, that amount is... high. No, higher than that. Keep going.

[lupintrois]

A grin starts to spread across Lupin's face, barely kept in check by the rest of his head. "I mean, I'm very good at wanting things, so don't test me. But if you have any recommendations for the house's specialty..."

[ostro_goth]

"Greetings!"

This comes from a tall early medieval warrior dresses in black, with a Tyrian purple cloak and a long-handled battle axe over his shoulder.

He has long black hair, and looks at Lupin from intense dark eyes.

"You are new."

[lupintrois]

Lupin scrutinizes him back, though his own soulful look comes across as more of a pout. "And you are...what, a cosplayer? Or you dress like this all the time?" He reminds Lupin of a Western version of his friend Goemon, a modern-day samurai who insists on dressing, acting, and eating like he's still in 1600s Japan. No matter where they go or how conspicuous it makes him. Because Goemon's dedicated that way.

"I didn't realize this place had a dress code, or I'd have brought my hose and doublet." He poses, one hand behind his head and the other as if resting on the pommel of a sword, mimicking a Renaissance portrait.

[ostro_goth]

The grim warrior regards him with raised eyebrows, then shakes his head.

"There is no such thing here," he says. "This is what I wore when I was alive."

On another day, Lupin might have caught this Goth wearing working clothes and a forge apron that are pretty much timeless, or even jeans and a faded black t-shirt with the word GOTH on in large red letters. But today, with the weather getting colder, he wanted his cloak.

"You are new, and must be told a few things."

[lupintrois]

"Uh. Clearly I must, yeah." 'Was alive' sure is a statement. Lupin perches on a table, eyebrow up and waiting for this weird guy to elaborate.

[ostro_goth]

"You do know where you are?" the warrior asks. "As in, you have been drawn into Milliways, the tavern at the end of the known cosmos, where many creatures from very many worlds and times may come?"

[lupintrois]

"Uh."

So no, no he did not. Lupin looks around the room again with more inquisitive eyes, even opening the shutters on a window and peering outside at what looks like a very pastoral 'end of of the known cosmos'.

"So what's the end of the known cosmos doing in my closet?"

[sunbaked_baker]

At some point after the man in the colorful suit has been in the bar a while and has begun to get his bearings, the kitchen door opens, letting a warm puff of baking-scented air into the bar along with a woman carrying a tray of baked goods.

The woman is a red-head, hair mostly hidden by a kerchief of electric blue cloth. A few damp tendrils have escaped, though, and cling to her temples, her face still a bit flushed from the heat of the ovens. Her clothing is loud - red sneakers, violently violet jeans, and a blazing yellow sleeveless top that does little to hide the myriad scars that mar her neck, shoulders, upper chest and arms. The tray held against her hip, it has to be said, is loaded with an array of deliciousness in various guises. As she steps over to the counter, a glass of ice water appears, and a smile breaks across the woman's face. "You're a saint, Bar."

It gets hot in there with the ovens going. A tall, cold glass of water is just what she needed.

[lupintrois]

That is a tall glass of water indeed. And also a vessel of drinkable liquid that she's holding. Lupin perks up, and finds an excuse to let his aimless pacing of the bar have him wend his way over to her.

"Well, hey," he says as his opener. "Those look like some tasty buns you've got there."

...Look, he's many things. Subtle isn't one of them.

[sunbaked_baker]

Sunshine wipes a drop from the corner of her mouth with the side of her thumb as she looks over, chuckling. The guy is definitely not subtle, but the random flirtation is amusing (and a little gratifying - she isn't completely immune).

"Well I should hope so," she replies, grinning. "I worked hard on them."

Is she going to indicate what kind of buns she's referring to?

Not at all. ^_^

[lupintrois]

"Don't suppose I could have a taste?" And those long-fingered hairy hands are reaching for...he's definitely reaching for the pastries. Definitely pastries.

[sunbaked_baker]

It's entirely a coincidence that her arm gets in the way of that hand of his when she moves to set her glass of water down on the counter.

"Sure," she says, amused, "once you know what's on offer."

And what's not.

"I've got quite a selection, though; are you a chocolate sort of guy, or a cinnamon kind of guy?"

[lupintrois]

"Oh, I'm a man who loves a little bit of spice." He sees what she's doing and he's in favor of it, stepping around so he gets another angle to try and get his hand on the, uh. The pastries.

The fact that she hasn't slapped, sworn at, thrown water on, or called security regarding him is a promising sign. "You do a lot of dough-kneading around here?"