Zinda Blake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zerocharliexray) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
milliways_bar2021-07-27 08:45 pm
zerocharliexray) wrote in milliways_bar2021-07-27 08:45 pm
Bartending with a Blackhawk!
Things are a little... strange on the Aerie One.
Maybe strange isn't the right word. Maybe it's more like strained. Helena's taken her belongings and run off God only knows where, and Dinah's on her way to Asia, traveling with Zinda's old bar buddy, Wildcat, and the Skipper...
Well, suffice it to say even Zinda's ever-present cheer has gotten a little dinged, so once she's bedded the Aerie One down for the night and brought the Skipper a sandwich – more out of optimism than realistic expectation – she pats the door to the cockpit and murmurs a few soft and encouraging words.
The door rewards her with the bustle and warmth of Milliways, and Zinda pushes her hand back through her hair and grins and grins and grins.
"Sis," she tells the bar once she makes her way there, "you sure have swell timing."
A napkin appears along with Zinda's cold bottle of beer, and she reads the note on it before laughing. "Whatever you say," she says, and parks her pert bottom on the bartop so she can swing her legs up and over, landing on the other side. She grabs a marker and writes:
Specials
She can be found behind the bar for the rest of the night, cleaning glasses and whistling Andrews Sisters' classics to herself.
C'mon, Milliways. Tell Zinda your troubles. What the heck else is a bartender for?
Maybe strange isn't the right word. Maybe it's more like strained. Helena's taken her belongings and run off God only knows where, and Dinah's on her way to Asia, traveling with Zinda's old bar buddy, Wildcat, and the Skipper...
Well, suffice it to say even Zinda's ever-present cheer has gotten a little dinged, so once she's bedded the Aerie One down for the night and brought the Skipper a sandwich – more out of optimism than realistic expectation – she pats the door to the cockpit and murmurs a few soft and encouraging words.
The door rewards her with the bustle and warmth of Milliways, and Zinda pushes her hand back through her hair and grins and grins and grins.
"Sis," she tells the bar once she makes her way there, "you sure have swell timing."
A napkin appears along with Zinda's cold bottle of beer, and she reads the note on it before laughing. "Whatever you say," she says, and parks her pert bottom on the bartop so she can swing her legs up and over, landing on the other side. She grabs a marker and writes:
Specials
She can be found behind the bar for the rest of the night, cleaning glasses and whistling Andrews Sisters' classics to herself.
C'mon, Milliways. Tell Zinda your troubles. What the heck else is a bartender for?
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"At your service."
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"Just a talented amateur. I'm a pilot, when I'm not moonlightin' at the end of the universe."
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This probably means nothing to him, but the pride in Zinda's voice and the way her blue eyes light up is universal. "The Aerie One. She's a peach. Fast, maneuverable, and so smart she could probably do my taxes for me."
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"Mostly personal transport for my boss 'n her team."