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Ryan is sitting at the bar.

He didn't sleep very well.

Right now he's smoking his ~~second~~ third cigarette, drinking coffee and thinking.

Bother him if you want but be warned - he's not in the best mood.

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Ryan laughs.

"You're stuck in a magical bar, with strange people but you have a hard time dealing with the fact that I'm from 300 years in the future?"

[OOC: Oooo, pretty new icon!]

Rochefort laughs humorlessly. "I do not believe in magic, monsieur. But go on, tell me what the world is like 300 years from now. I shall be interested in hearing it, so long as you do not forget the unicorns."

[OOC: Thanks! Midge made it. She is awesome.]

"Fair enough," he says with a mischievous smile.

"Where shall I start? How about with France? About 150 years after your time it becomes embroilled in a series of political revolutions. There are several regime changes, each different but the monarchy as you know it ceases to exist in the mid-1800s. Currently France, like the United States and most Western nations, is a democratic republic."

He looks at the man with a perfectly serious face.

"Really? I always thought that if the monarchy ceased to exist, I would have had something to do with it," says Rochefort jadedly. "None of this 'democratic republic' business, though. More of a theocracy."

He shrugs. "Do they speak much of Cardinal Richelieu in your time, or has he been forgotten?"

"Few in my time have a favorable opinion of theocracies. Modern France is a very secular. Almost too much so," he muses.

"Cardinal Richelieu? Yes, he is still remembered. Most kids learn about him in school along with Louis XIII, the de Medicis and the problems with the Huegonots. I think that's why my ancestors left France for Italy - they were sick of the constant fighting."

"Huguenots," murmurs Rochefort sourly. "The Huguenots are a problem in themselves. But I suppose it is good to know that His Eminence has not been forgotten, though the history textbooks probably never mention me."

He studies Ryan for a moment. "Your ancestors were Frenchmen? You don't look it. You have a distinctly English look about you."

Which reminds him. "I do not believe we have properly introduced ourselves yet, monsieur. I am the Comte de Rochefort, chevalier, and personal assistant to His Eminence the Cardinal-Duc de Richelieu. And you are?"

Even though it probably wasn't meant as a slight, Rochefort's comment reminds him of one old classmate at Wharton who mistook him for one of the "WASPy silver-spooners" who made up the bulk of their class.

Hmmf.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Ryan Chappelle. Formerly the Regional Director of the Pacific branch of the Counter-Terrorist Unit, currently dead and stuck here."

Rochefort inclines his head politely, rather enjoying this. "How fascinating. What is a Counter-Terrorist unit? And do tell me what it is like to be dead. I've never experienced that myself, you see."

"A Counter-Terrorist Unit is a government Intelligence Agency whose purpose is to gather information on, seek out, capture and eliminate terrorists and terrorist cells who threatended the United States. And, as for your second question, being dead is surprisingly similar to being alive so far."

Rochefort smirks. "Counter-Terrorist Unit is...something like the equivalent of our Musketeers, then? The rogue ones, at least."

"Musketeers? As in the three, sometimes four, Musketeers of legend?"

Rochefort frowns. "Legend? What legend? They're nothing but a thorn in my side. But yes, there are three of them, and they seem to have taken on some stupid young Gascon as a protege."

"Well, by my time it's legend. Who is their protege?"

Rochefort's lips twist distastefully. "None of them are worthy of legend. Porthos is a fool, Aramis cannot fight, Athos is a drunkard, all of them are arrogant bastards, and their protege is an idiot child. He goes by the name of D'Artagnan. I cannot believe that he lives long enough to be a legend in your time; he is almost suicidally reckless and no brighter than a burnt-out candle."

The names are familiar but Ryan can't recall much more than that.

"I think I know a few people like D'Artagnan myself. Although their brighter than a burnt-out candle. Usually."

Rochefort snorts. "And do they work for your Counter-Terrorist Unit too, or have your superiors been wise enough to bar them from serving there?"

Ryan grimaced.

"Actually I am - or was - their superior and I let them stay on the job. They're very good at their jobs even if they are complete mavericks."

"You let them stay?" Rochefort arches an eyebrow. "You must be a very merciful man. I would simply have had them killed."

"Well, having people killed isn't that easy during my time. Unless you're best friends with the president."

Ryan finishes the last of his drink.

"Excuse me, I have to go. It was a pleasure meeting you."

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