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?
no subject
"And what do you do? When you aren't getting people drinks here?"
And just how friendly are you?
Leaning in a little.
Smiling.
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Bless Todd. He'd tried.
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He sounds approving, not disbelieving.
"That must have been confusing for some of the traditionalists."
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She's not in uniform right now, but the yellow and black Blackhawk logo is printed onto the back of her slim-fitting t-shirt. "Bart – Blackhawk, that is, the leader of my squadron – just about had kittens when I showed up and told him I wanted to fly with him and the boys."
Her smile's fond, though; it all worked out in the end. "I guess you were probably around during the war, too, huh? Seeing as you're..."
Zinda pauses and attempts some quick mental calculation, then shakes her head. "How old are you? If it ain't rude to ask."
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"And I was turned when I was around thirty."
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"You must've seen quite a lot in your time, huh?"
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"You have to be able to keep up. To learn how to use new technology to your advantage. Like cars. And computers."
He grins.
"Indoor plumbing was a pretty good development as well. I've got the largest barn and shower setup money can buy at home."
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"Sounds like you've got it all figured out. For me, there's plenty in this modern world that's confusin', but there's a lot to like, too. The internet? It's great. And I can walk into a store and just buy hose, if I want; no need to ration."
She shrugs. "Sure, it's odd hearin' Beyonce on the radio instead of the Andrews Sisters, but it's not bad. Just different."
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She doesn't strike him as a Captain America type.
And good thing too.
Even if their last brief talk had been borderline cordial.
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It was a little chaotic. "Then I spent some time in a place a whole lot like this, only on the other side of the galaxy, before comin' back to where'n when I am now."
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"That sounds - annoying," he says. "And inconvenient. Was it just you that got trapped?"
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She smiles again, but this time it's rueful. "That's me. Zinda Blake, last of the Blackhawks."
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"We can't go back," he tells her. "Once you're turned, you have to leave. Before people start asking questions. And sometimes, young vampires go infant. Not everyone is cut out to leave the world they knew behind."
He had been.
It do it seems, in a different way, had she.
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Her sunny smile is back; she draws a glass of water for herself and lifts it to him in a loose toast. "And then I wouldn't have been able to meet such fine company here, now would I?"
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He has nice, even teeth. Impressively so for someone who'd grown up without a toothbrush.
No hint of fangs either.
"That is true. Personally, I've never regretted becoming a vampire, but then again, I had a choice. That does make a difference."
He drinks and licks his lips
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Zinda glances at his bottle, then lifts her eyebrows. "How you doin' on that, sugar? Want another round?"
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The tragedy of his life.
He is being pretty stoic about it though.
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"So that's a 'no' on a second round, huh?"
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He shakes his head. "I'd better have another. It's not good, but it's better than going hungry."
There's a small pause and then he says, as if he'd picked up on her mental sidestepping, "And don't worry. All biting is strictly consensual."
Here anyway. Mostly.
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"I get the feelin' anything else would kinda cause some problems."
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"Like all other potentially dangerous activities, it's got its fans."