(no subject)

[manipulatestime]

It's late afternoon when someone who really looks like he doesn't belong here saunters in from the front door. (It's probably the uniform.) There's surprise on his face at first - who isn't surprised when a bar you've never been to before shows up where your closet should be? - but the expression is soon replaced with a big smile.

There's a blue flash and he's at the bar ordering a cup of coffee, black, and then another flash and he's seated in one of the comfy armchairs by the window. Legs crossed ankle over knee, he sits back and watches the display with an odd curiosity.

This has to be it. The place the workers at the Commission only whisper about.

Number Five has finally arrived at Milliways.

Comments

[5ame_heart]

The flashing gets the attention of a man - physically older, chronologically much younger - who happens to also be sitting in an armchair by the window.

FiveS is lounging in his black bodysuit, his customised hoodie over the top (it has an eel on the hood and his pronouns on the chest) and was flicking through a datapad in his continuous quest to teach himself to read English. But there was blue flashing and he looked up to see if that was a lightsaber.

He's relieved that it wasn't, to be honest. Gives the kid a nod of hello.

"Morning."

[manipulatestime]

It wasn't morning when Five came in, but who the hell cares. Just one of many quirks he's certain he's going to have to get used to. He lifts his cup of coffee in the direction of the man in a type of salute.

"Morning."

God it's been ages since he's been in this good of a mood.

"Hell of a place, isn't it?"

[5ame_heart]

"No place like it in my galaxy," Fives agrees. Not that he's particularly worldly-wise in relative terms, but it's a pretty good bet.

"You new, then?"

It's a safe bet. People don't sit looking pleased and curious at the Observation Window or open conversations like that when they're old hands.

[manipulatestime]

"Freshly minted." He confirms, taking a swig from his mug. "Best coffee I've ever had." And that's saying a lot.

"Galaxy, huh? Outer space and all that?"

[5ame_heart]

"Occasionally," Fives allows. He can't really comment on the coffee except that everything in this place is better than GAR rations.

"Usually it's just planetside where I'm getting shot at, only time I'm in space is being transported between battles."

[manipulatestime]

Occasionally? Who the hell was this guy?

That last bit sounds sort of familiar, but not exactly. Close enough that Five sobers a little.

"Soldier?"

[5ame_heart]

"Uh huh," Fives says, matter of fact about it. It is of course, all he knows.

"Clone trooper, five-oh-first, Grand Army of the Galactic Republic."

He'd reach over and offer a hand if that was his culture, but instead he just nods a greeting.

"My name's Fives."

[manipulatestime]

Clone trooper? Galactic Republic? Why is this pinging in the back of his mind?

He shakes it off and nods back, with a touch of a laugh. "I'm Number Five."

[5ame_heart]

That touch of a laugh is echoed.

"Really? That's your name?"

It's a specifically worded question - a number is not a name and it matters in his culture.

[skyhigh_seance]

Seated on a table (on, not at, why have a chair when you can have a throne, baby?), is a lanky man with a wildly curling mess of hair. His skirt of choice today is a black knee-length number with some lacy edging, not really Three's look but Allison's clothes always did look better on him.

(Says him)

Today, he is painting his toenails a fantastic sparkly purple. Don't ask where his boots are, he doesn't know.

[manipulatestime]

Five has been indulging in the time honored tradition of people watching. He's still getting used to the amount of people there are here, and in the world. Forty five years alone will do that to you.

Eventually, he hones in on a face that is more than familiar. Klaus?

He abandons his armchair and blinks over to where Klaus is. "The fuck are you doing?" Here, in general, as well as, Klaus, what are you doing?

[skyhigh_seance]

Klaus is... painfully used to people appearing out of thin air and insulting him, it's kind of his thing, so no one should be really surprised when his first reply is... less than impressed. It doesn't help that he's trying to focus here. Admittedly hard when a bit high, but hey. Trying.

"Looking finer than you ever will, asshole." He grumbles, voice kept to a low pitch learned from years of avoiding having people realize he's 'talking to himself'. Then he sighs, and then looks over, resignedly.

Whoop, there's the scream.

[manipulatestime]

"Calm down." Dramatic as always he can see. Five hasn't even noticed the toe polishing yet.

"What are you doing here? Is anyone else here?"

[skyhigh_seance]

"What am I.. what are you doing here? And yes, there's other people here, there's lots... wait, did you go blind? Five, can you see me?" In the grand tradition of people being told to calm down, Klaus fails to calm down even one little bit, because his littlest missing bro who isn't missing any more is blind and who blinded his littlest bro he'll... well, he'll sic Luther and Diego on them, that'll work, right?

[manipulatestime]

"From. The. Family." He resists the urge to slap Klaus up side the head. It's a bit if a reach right now so he sets it aside for another time. Which probably wont be long.

"And stop painting your toes. You're in a mini-skirt. No one needs to see that."

Especially him.

[skyhigh_seance]

"There's a difference between needs and wants, bro." Klaus waves off the complaint, because Five is clearly just jealous that Klaus will have prettier toes. But evidently Five can see him, which is great! And is also alive, which is even better!

"But yeah, I mean, not right now? Ben was here, but I don't know where he wandered off to, probably the library." It's still a very unusual experience, not being his brother's literal keeper, and he's definitely not used to it.

[manipulatestime]

Ben's here? From what little he knows from being back in their timeline, Ben is dead. Which is a shame, but it doesn't explain how he's in Milliways. Can the dead actually come here?

"Yeah, the library. I'll have to check that out." Because library. Also, could lead to Ben.

[cottoncandypink]

If the boy is people-watching around Milliways, there's a face for him to watch over by the fire. The Korean man in the faded black Ramones t-shirt is about forty, with messy hair that probably hasn't seen a pair of scissors in over a year. His moustache bears a slight curl that suggests it's usually styled into a neat, twisting handlebar, but the effort doesn't seem to have been put into it today.

Also, his moustache is pink.

He's ostensibly reading a newspaper. What he's really doing is playing a clicker game on his phone.

[manipulatestime]

The Boy is, indeed, watching the happenings around the bar. So far, he hasn't spotted much interesting: the door opening and closing as patrons come and go, people placing their orders, the waitrats. Someone reading the paper isn't all that interesting either.

The pink moustache, however, is somewhat intriguing and if he has to choose to annoy someone, this looks to be about as good as it'll get. He takes his cup and wanders over to where the other man is sitting.

"Is that natural?"

[cottoncandypink]

It's not a question Wilford is used to getting, and he doesn't immediately make the connection.

"Is what?" he asks, glancing up at the kid.

School uniform, with age-inappropriate shorts, and a cup of coffee. It's immediately clear he's dealing with Money, and most likely the attitude to go with it.

G r e a t.

[manipulatestime]

Money, and more life experience than Wilford has. Of course there's going to be an attitude.

"Your moustache." Please be interesting. Please.

[cottoncandypink]

Money, probably. Life experience, debatable.

"Of course it is," he says, offended at the insinuation that he'd ever waste his precious time on vanity.

In the dim light by the fire, it's almost impossible to see that his wild mane of hair is a much, much darker shade of pink as well.

[manipulatestime]

"Where are you from?" He takes a nearby seat and makes himself comfortable. "And if it's Earth, what timeline? Is there an impending apocalypse?"

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford stops mindlessly tapping on his phone to actually look at the boy properly.

"You're a little young for Honours classes, aren't you?" he asks. Now with more than a few words spoken, his heavy Mid-Atlantic accent shines through.

He does not answer the question. Not directly, anyway.

[manipulatestime]

"No, I'm not." It's said seriously, without missing a beat, but not in annoyance. Not yet.

"I'd prefer if you answered my questions."