milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Wally is in the bar. He looks very, -very- bored. It's taking all his willpower to not dash around the bar at superspeed, playing pranks.

But he's resisting. Admirable, huh?

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Oh no.

'Bart' Steps up, a small ceramic cup in his hand. It smells faintly of apples.

"Scumble?"

Further down the bar, a thirteen year old girl is mostly obscured by a Wall Street Journal. Wally might see a pair of braids and a restlessly kicking foot, but that's about it. Several disgruntled and occasionally horrified sounds emerge at fairly regular intervals.

Turtle's energy stocks are worrying her.

And this is more interesting than anything else that's happened in the bar so far. Today, at least. So Wally freely approachs, planting his feet and trying to read the other side of her newspaper.

And wasn't that a good distraction? -Kid Flash-. Except... what the heck was that he was trying to give Wally?

"What?"

Wally sits on his stool, kicking his feet against it boredly.

He's not aware of Iris yet, but even if he was, he's not old enough to know her relevance yet. Good or bad for her? Guess we'll find out.

"It's one of those drinks Barry swears by."

Thad looks him over.

"Sleep well? Tried to leave?"

"Swears by? Why would someone swear by a -drink-?" Wally is so clueless.

"Yeah, I tried to leave." He crosses his arms, and frowns. "All I got was a big brick wall. And a sign."

Iris prays that this is some other redhead boy and trudges over slowly. Though obviously she gets there quickly.

"Hi."

"Hey." If he was some other guy, Wally might be suspicious of a stranger; but heck, he grew up in Blue Valley, where nobody was ever suspicious, except for Adam Blooskey, who once upon a time was hiding a sheep in his back yard.

Besides, it's a bar at the end of the universe. What's the worst that could happen?

"Who're you?"

"Apparently it's very good."

Thad raises an eyebrow.

"A sign from above?"

The paper slooowly lowers. Turtle looks much like an adult who has caught one doing something troublesome and is about to launch into a tirade. Instead, she simply smirks and pins Wally with a curious look.

"Hi." She tilts her head. "You look bored. The bar gives out papers, you know. There's no need to steal your news off mine."

"No, it was on the wall."

Wally frowns at the cup. "It smells like apples. I don't -like- apples."

'But the news is boring', Wally nearly starts to say. Except that... well. This is a cute girl, so he's suddenly struck more aware of himself, and instead just shifts uneasily.

"I was just wonderin' why someone your age would be reading -that-."

Thad shrugs

"It must be a flash thing then i guess."

"What must be a Flash thing?" Wally looks suspicious. After all, he can't hate something the Flash likes, can he?

The voice is almost the same. Squeakier maybe.

"Kid Flash."

"Apples. Must be a flash thing."

And Thad sets the drink on the bar. And mentally starts counting.

"My age? What's that suppose to mean?" Turtle looks vaguely menacing. "If I plan on making my first million by eighteen, I need to stay on top of the market at all times."

Still frowning, she gives Wally a cursory inspection and decides to play nice. No kicking. Yet. She folds the paper on the bar and smiles a little too sweetly.

"What's your name?"

Wally blinks. Then stares. Then blinks again.

"But...Bart is Kid Flash..." He sounds confused.

"By eighteen?" Wally's eyes widen a little. "How will you do that?"

He pauses. "Wally West. Who're you?" He doesn't quite know how to phrase things politely. Yet.

So he's going to have to stomach apples if he wants to be Flash? Well, damnit.

Well, there's no time like the present. Even if Wally really does hate those things. He eyes it uncertainly, then grabs it and swallows a bit. He looks like he's tasting medicine.

Turtle taps her finger to her temple as if this should explain everything. "Stock market. I have a talent for making money." She grins unabashedly. "Turtle. Turtle Wexler, Financier. It's nice to meet you, Wally West. Catchy name."

It probably does taste like medicine, a little. Thad watches with glee.

"Huh, maybe you do have the stomach for it after all."

"Financier. How old -are- you?" Did the title actually mean something, or was she just a kid playing a game? Hard to tell, so far.

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