Son of Happy Hour

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Is Eddie still in a great mood? Why yes he is! He's also behind the bar in an apron.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman. Welcome to Milliways Happy Hour. Specials tonight on tequila, nonalcoholic drinks and anything with Jagermeister in it."

"Step right up, don't be shy, there's enough booze for everybody."

Comments

[young_tmriddle]

*Thanks to Millitime, Tom comes over to the bar to refresh his drink.*

Hullo, Eddie. How have you been?

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie beams. "I'm doin just fine, Tom. Things are lookin up. How 'bout you? And whaddya drinkin there?"

[young_tmriddle]

Scotch, as usual. But perhaps I'd like a change. Surprise me, why don't you?

You're in high spirits, it would seem.

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

He grins. "Yeah, I am. I tell you about Jake last time we spoke?"

He sizes Tom up, drinkwise. "Let's see. Scotch man isn't looking for a fancy mixed drink. Scotch is a good versatile drink, you can just cruise or you can really get bombed. You got a sedan there, we don't want you in a hotrod, just in another model. What are your feelings a cousin from across the pond? Good Tennessee bourbon, maybe?"

[young_tmriddle]

Sounds intriguing - I'll give it a try. Tonks used to tease me for sticking in my scotch rut, but it is such a fine drink.

Jake, from your world? Wasn't he ill?

[empath-wiggin.livejournal.com]

Val grins, sporting her new T-shirt (Do not mess in the affairs of Milliways Staff for you are but a plaything for Security) and leans on the bar. "Can I get a Mountain Dew, Eddie? Oh, and hi."

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

"Heya, Val. Sure thing." While he dumps some ice into a tall glass he eyes the t-shirt. "Huh. That makes us sound a little ominous, huh?"

[empath-wiggin.livejournal.com]

Val's eyes twinkle. "Nah, it's just Security. They have a rep to keep up, yanno." She smiles. "So, how have you been?"

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie's eyebrow quirks, but he puts that aside for the other question so he can beam some more. "Terrific. Jake's all better, after a minor hitch."

[empath-wiggin.livejournal.com]

Now that makes Val grin. Hugely. "Oh, that's wonderful. Does he have his memories back now, or is he still not remembering things?"

[http://users.livejournal.com/_fisshes/]

"Which do you recommend?" Smeagol asks, never having heard of tequila or Jagemeister. Or booze.

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie eyes the little dude. He's little. On the other hand, hobbits seem to have some capacity, canonically.

"The Mexican gold, frankly. But take it easy. The wizards of Brooklyn have an old proverb: One tequila two tequila three tequila floor." He pours Smeagol a gleaming golden shot anyway.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_fisshes/]

He downs it. He likes it.

"What's this again?"

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie hums a little tune, then slaps the bar gently. "Tequila."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_fisshes/]

"It's nice."

He toys with the glass absently.

[prone-to-panic.livejournal.com]

And there just happens to be young man sitting off to one side of the bar. There's nothing really remarkable about his appearance except that he's wearing a full late eighteenth-century naval uniform.

And he's studying something very intently.

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie cruises by. "Get you anything, Sailor Sam?"

[prone-to-panic.livejournal.com]

The sailor looks up, blinking.

"Archie, actually. Archie Kennedy. And I'll have an... er... a scotch for preferance if you could?"

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

"Yer bugger. Rocks or soda or anything?"

[prone-to-panic.livejournal.com]

"Pardon? And no thank you, I'll take it neat. Do you know, I don't think I've ever ordered something from an actual bartender the entire time I've been here?"

[milliways_sawyer]

Sawyer walks over and leans on the bar. "Hey, chief, set me up with a Jagerbeer bomb. I've just been told the road to righteousness is paved with PBR."

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

"Your nickel, slick." Eddie sets him up. "Eddie Dean."

[milliways_sawyer]

"Sawyer. Thanks." He drops the Jager shot into the glass and chugs.

"What's your story?", he asks as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

[no-prisoner.livejournal.com]

Eddie shrugs. "I'm originally from Brooklyn, but I died. Now I tend bar here. How 'bout you?"

[milliways_sawyer]

"Dead, huh? That's gotta suck. My plane crashed on a deserted island, except maybe it ain't quite so deserted as we thought. Found the bar by accident one night. Now I drink here."