milliways_bar | (no subject)

"If it's not the exceedingly lovely Faith. Mind if I join you?" Bill casts a wary glance at the knife.

It doesn't fool him at all.

"Sure." Faith continues to sharpen the knife. "Grab a seat. How's it going?"

Shiny. Sharp. Wary=good.

"It's going." He watches her work with a good deal of fascination. "Expecting trouble, are we?"

A small grin lights his face as he sits across from her, but somehow not exactly in front of her feet; that's a bit too intimate.

"Trouble is a very good friend of mine.".

"Not expecting. Not really. Just better to be prepared."

Faith plucks a hair out of her head and drops it on the knife. The hair is summarily cut in two.

"...not bad." She tucks the knife away, smiling at Bill. "I like them sharp."

"The sharper the better."

Leaning forward, elbows on the table, head in hands, Bill watches her. "I could have used that blade several months ago." But he shrugs. "All water under the bridge now. Tell me, Faith: what does a girl like you do in a place like this to stay amused, besides sharpening what must be a favourite knife and drinking American whisky?"

"Sharpen the knives I'm not as fond of and drink other things." Faith smirks. "Plus, I'm on Security."

"Guarding Lucius Malfoy?" He doesn't miss an opportunity. Clearly, there was no chance for him to tell or show Malfoy how he felt the night of Ron's... experience, but he'd like to.

Some day.

Preferably armed with several of Faith's knives, in addition to his own wand.

"Malfoy?" Faith squints thoughtfully. "Blonde hair, snooty expression, dead insect up his ass?"

He nods, laughing. That's a perfect description. "He's still being held back there, then? Is there a chance I could speak with him?"

"So far as I know, he is..." She eyes him warily. "Why do you want to talk to him?"

No mincing words. "He's a supporter of my enemies; before I was at Milliways, his cohorts held me captive. I want to question him about those activities."

"Ah. Well. I'm afraid I can't give you permission for that." Faith shrugs. "Take it up with Bigby."

"Bigby." He nods, taking mental note of the name.

Of course, if Tim does what he said he would the other night, Bill had best speak to this Bigby sooner rather than later.

"A drink, Faith? I've always found it far more pleasurable to have a companion, whether it's tea or ale or whisky or whatever else the bar might dream up."

"Bigby's Head of Security. My boss." Faith grins. "And sure, I'd like that. Jack Daniels, please."

"A fine sourmash whisky, of course; my pleasure." Standing, Bill makes his way quickly to the bar, sets a palmful of Galleons on it, and returns with a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shotglasses.

Why not.

He sets one glass in front of Faith and the other in front of himself as he settles back down, filling both with a flourish born of too much time spent doing exactly that: pouring liquor into shotglasses.

"To you."

"Thank you, my dear boy."

Faith's attempt at a posh British accent is quite laughable.

"Ta."

Grin.

Long sip.

"Not bad. It's not Ogden's, but it's not bad."

Faith's eyebrows go up. "What's Ogden's?"

"Ogden's Old Firewhisky: the drink of choice amongst many of the people from my world. The bar serves it on request."

He lifts the glass of Jack's and examines it thoroughly. "Ogden's is more golden in colour and about every third glass bursts into blue flames that lick the side of whatever contains it: really, it's rather a lovely drink."

And highly potent.

"Sounds pretty cool." Faith grins. "I'll have to try that."

Oh, Bill. See what you've done?

"When you do decide to try it, do let me know. I'll... introduce you to it the proper way."

His grin widens.

Oh, the possibilities.

"Cool." Faith smirks. "I'll warn you right now, it takes about four bottles of this stuff to get me drunk...yours is probably stronger, but I'll probably still be able to out-drink you."

"I'll take my chances."

After all, last time he had a drinking contest with one of the bar's more beautiful women, it ended up rather nicely for the both of them.

And he didn't even use some of the wizarding sobering charms he knew.

"Slayer metabolism. One of the perks." Faith shrugs. "That and being able to eat rare steak and just about anything else without having to worry about gaining weight."

Bill raises his shotglass to her again. "Well, whatever you do ingest you wear quite nicely, I must say."

He can't help it: it's just the way he is. Bill reaches up and rubs the dragon-fang earring.

All habit.

"Careful, you're going to make me wish I wasn't taken."

Faith can't help it either, really.

"Alas. Fate can be so cruel." Bill smiles fondly at her, refilling her shotglass. "Tell me, who's the lucky partner?"

"Connor." Faith's grin is borderline ridiculous. "His name's Connor. MacLeod. Scottish. You'd get on."

"Lucky man, Connor, MacLeod, Scots." Bill nods. "You met here?"

"Yeah. They don't make 'em like that where I'm from." Faith grins widely. "He's great."

"I'm very happy for you."

And he is: genuinely so. "Does your Connor also serve on the security staff?"

"No, he's not Security, the big slacker." Faith grins. "He's not Bound, either...he has an antique weapons shop in New York."

"New York -- that's one place I've never been and always intended to visit. Perhaps when I'm able to leave this place..."

Bill leaves the rest of the thought unspoken. Because he knows it will happen some day.

Some day.

"Hey, sometimes even when you're Bound you can leave with others. I can." Faith grins. "Connor's taken me to his place in New York, and this other one he has in Scotland."

That's the second time Bill's heard mention of leaving with others. "Faith: is there anyone else here from your time and place and if so, have you been able to leave with them?"

That would be one answer. He's almost afraid to hear what she has to say about it, though; the answer isn't going to be what he wants.

Probably.

"There's somebody else here from my place and a few hours before me, but he's Bound too." Faith shrugs. "There's others from my world, but no more from my time."

"It was worth asking."

Bill glances at the bottle of Jack, pushing it towards Faith. "When did this become your drink of choice?"

"Long time ago." Faith shrugs slightly. "My mother...she hated it. It was the only thing she wouldn't touch...the only alcohol she never...she hated it."

Yay, Millicanon.

Now that sounds like a story begging to be told. But Bill's far too gentlemanly to pry so instead, he adds to the tale. "My own mum's not fond of drink for the most part, although I'm convinced I've seen her heading off with a bottle of gillywater from time to time."

He grins both pleasantly and benignly. "So with drink, then, you've become a creature of habit?"

Faith smiles, grateful that he doesn't push it. "I guess you'd say that. I know I shouldn't - it killed my mother - but hey, life's short. Especially for a Slayer. Might as well enjoy it."

Oedipal though it might be on some level, he doesn't pursue the line of questioning; Bill merely raises his shotglass. "Then we can drink to her as well. As you say, life is short and we might as well enjoy it, and that, my dear, is one reason I'm sitting here with you."

Faith snorts softly. "Yes, by all means, drink to my mother. If she ever shows up here I'll leave and never come back, Bound or no." She clinks her glass to Bill's, rather mockingly, and tosses the drink back.

Seems he's touched on rather a tender subject. "No, let's hold the thought that she doesn't show up here. Because if she did and you left and never came back, I could never properly introduce you to the Ogden's, and that would be a shame."

He refills her glass and then his own. "I'd rather drink to friendship, Faith. It seems a much nicer subject. And I quite enjoy your company. I like you very much. Cheers."

Faith smiles apologetically. "I like you too, Bill. Sorry, my mother's kind of a sore spot." She raises her glass, smiling. "To people you hate staying dead, and people you love never getting that way."

"I will drink to that."

And he does.

"As far as the rest of it goes... it's part of the process of getting to know one another. Really, if we never ran up against those sore spots, as you put it, we'd never know what to avoid talking about the next time or the time after that."

He's all for slow discovery. Sometimes, the slower the better: it makes life so much more interesting.

Faith nods. "Yeah. Sure."

Faith's life is plenty interesting as it is.