milliways_bar | (no subject)

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*Yrael wanders into the bar from the back corridor, dressed all in white. He carries with him his violin, and on a whim brought his recorder with him, as well. He makes his way to the comfortable chair on the left side of the fire and sits down, setting his recorder down on the table beside the chair. Placing the violin to his shoulder, he pauses a moment to decide what to play. He begins playing a light, lilting dance, the melody all glinting sunlight and new leaves, turning in a warm spring breeze.*

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*After the two drinks appear, Yrael hands the scotch on the rocks to Sara, smiling. He takes his own pale drink and sips it, thoughtfully.*

Please, continue to excuse my curiosity. It is rather ingrained. What do you do in your Las Vegas as a crime scene investigator, Sara? What sort of crimes do you normally investigate?

"Hey, I was the one initially being nosy. Quid pro quo." She grins a bit.

At his question, she sighs, taking a long drink. "Practically everything from minor burglaries to rapes and murders." At the mention of rape, her face briefly darkens. But she forces herself to smile again, determined not to be depressed this night.

"It...can drive a person to drink, at times. I truly marvel at what people are willing to do to one another. Never ceases to amaze me."

Some people do not have the same morals as society expects them to have. *He notes the look on her face.* But no matter. This is not a subject for discussion on a peaceful night at the end of the universe.

What brings you here, Sara?

She stares into her drink, before chugging the rest of it. "Initially--walking into a utility closet."

"But now...I don't know. I like most of the people I have met here. And I feel safe." She shrugs slightly. "I don't often feel safe back home."

*He smiles, feeling the odd peace that stays mostly unbroken in his home, the bar.* For most, Milliways is a sort of No-Man's land. It is a safe-zone, a neutral spot, in whatever wars are being fought. Most feel safe here because they know the rules state no violence, no killing, and no business in the bar, and they know that there are those here powerful enough to enforce those rules. It is a safe place, whatever world one comes from. A refuge.

"Yeah." Sara nods her head in agreement. "I haven't had to wonder if someone would put something in my drink, nor have I had to defend myself. Well, except for that tire. And as I've said, I've met some nice people here who apparently have no agenda where I am concerned. It is refreshing."

Tapping the Bar, she requests another scotch. "And you? What brought you here?"

*Yrael sips his Atomic Cat.* I came here to make myself a home. I was never allowed any home while I was Bound by my siblings. When I was freed, I came here to find a place where I belonged, since I had no place in the world my siblings created.

She smiles sympathetically. "That's saddening to hear. The rift between you and your siblings, I mean. I'm glad you found a home, though."

"My older brother and I..well, we're not close. But we care for each other and have each other's back. Our parents were lost to us at a fairly young age."

*Yrael looks sympathetic.* I am sorry to hear that. Siblings are important, when one does not have parents to rely upon. But rifts happen, whether through just growing apart from one another, or betrayal and imprisonment. Many things happen. I hope you and your brother stay as close as you can, even if it is not really close. Enmity within a family is a hard and unpleasant way for things to turn out.

"True enough."

The suspicion nagging at the back of her head snaps into focus when she remember's Ace's words.

"And hey, next time you want your ears scratched, let me know? No need to play music to get into my good graces," she says with a wink.

*He looks honestly confused.* I do not wish for my ears to be scratched, Sara.

She tilts her head. "Weren't you the cat from this afternoon?"

*One eyebrow raises in complete befuddlement.* Um. Sara? I'm not a cat. I am...sitting right here, drinking with you.

*he reaches out and touches her hand with his own.* Human-shaped.

Now she's getting annoyed. But she tempers that. "You don't remember, then." She finishes off her scotch.

*Yrael just Looks at her.* No, my memory is perfect. But I am still confused. What are you talking about? I am not a cat, Sara. I do not wish my ears to be scritched. And I have no idea what brought this topic up.

~~I prefer to be scritched behind my ears, foo'.~~

"A shape-shifter, then. I now remember why you seemed so familiar. Your voice and your eyes are the same."

She stands, keeping tight reign on her temper. "But thank you for the drink. Good night."

*he scowls mock-severely.* Someone has been telling tales of me. I shall have to find out whom has been doing such a thing.

*But he grins.* But for such a wonderfully talented scritcher as you are, I shall always be glad to buy drinks.

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Sara walks away.

ooc: Have to leave for the night. It's been fun!

(ooc: G'night! Was wonderfully fun!)

*Yrael smiles to himself, holding up his drink.* She should be glad I did not change shapes in her lap. I was doing her a kindness.

An empty shot glass smacks him upside the head. "I heard that!" Sara stomps out of the bar.

*As the shotglass hits him and then shatters upon the floor, Yrael rubs the side of his head ruefully. At least, he does before noticing that the price of the shotglass had been added to his tab.*

HEY!

"Oh for god's sake. I'll pay for the fucking glass." Sara throws money in the direction of the bar before leaving. For real this time.

ooc: And I really am leaving now! *snickers*

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