milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

"Ma?"

He walks in, blinking around, a little confused. A small enough child, lame leg trailing behind him as he turns his head this way and that, obviously looking for someone. The cane in his hands is clutched tightly.

"Ma? Ma? Mister Stroker sir? Ma?"

He's starting to think this isn't home.

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He shakes his head.

"Nu-uh. She doesn't smack me. She swats me. Stroker smacks me. Or kicks out the cane. It's different."

And it is.

"Oh."

Faith does not quite blink aloud, but it's a near thing.

"Does that happen often?"

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"Drunks are funny. Or they think they are anyway."

Faith makes a face. "Sounds like he needs to have his ass kicked. Maybe turned inside-out, even."

"-s. Drunks. Though it'd be funny to see Mister Stroker get his..."

He looks up at her.

"-ass beat up by a girl. You're smaller than my Ma. That'd be really funny."

"I could do it." Faith grins. "Really."

He nods.

"How's that?"

"I'm really strong. I fight bad things, see, so I have to be strong." Faith nods back. "I could grab Mister Stroker by the neck and shove his head up his ass...or maybe even somebody else's."

He blinks.

"Wow."

And then blinks again.

"You really don't like him much, do you?"

"Never met him." Faith shrugs. "But...I don't like people who pick on kids."

He blinks at her.

"Then what're you doing in a bar?"

"The people in this bar don't do that," Faith assures him. "It's not allowed, and I'm a bouncer, so if they did, I'd get to throw them around and lock them up."

He blinks.

"How do you keep customers?"

"Most of the people here are very nice and obey the rules. The ones that aren't, well, they go to prison, or they meet me, and they usually learn their lesson. If they don't, they stay in the cells for a good long time."

"Oh."

And he guesses that makes sense.

"Yeah. so. Hungry? Thirsty? We've got absolutely everything you could want." Faith grins. "Promise."

"Food?"

Faith nods. "Sure. Food, drinks, we've even got rooms upstairs if you want to stay a while."

He nods, a little sour.

"I figured so. It's an inn, isn't it? It looks like one. I live in an inn. I know what they're like. But...those things cost money. I don't have money. And innkeepers eventually get cranky about things like that."

"Don't worry about the money," says Faith. "Order what you like, and we'll keep a tab, and you don't have to pay until you can afford to."

He continues to look sour.

"Hm...don't have money now and that's not going to change much."

"Ehhh, well, then let me buy you something," Faith suggests. "I've got plenty."

He looks her up and down.

"How'd you do that? Are you married to a rich man?"

Faith laughs, shaking her head. "No, I'm not married. I inherited some money. From...a friend. He didn't have any children, so when he died, he left me his money. Besides, I told you I work here."

He nods.

"Well, I remember you said you work here but my Ma works at the bar at home and I know that she doesn't make that much money so I was curious, though you can tell me to shut up if you want."