milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Angel's at one of the tables, with pizza. No notebook tonight, he's just people-watching.

(Summary: Angel meets Mouse, for great pizza-sharing and agreement that Milliways is a good place to be dead. He also catches up with Roger, who actually isn't in too bad of a mood for once! That goes downhill after a bit, though.)

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Is he watching Mouse? Because Mouse is people-watching too.

Anything's possible, especially in Milliways.
Angel notices the other people-watcher and waves.

Mouse waves back, possibly eying the pizza.

"If you want some pizza, you're welcome to it."
It should be noted, however, that the combination of bacon, pineapple, and extra cheese is not for everyone.

Mouse used to eat nothing but goop. He'll take it.

"Thanks." He heads over and sits across from Angel. "I'm Mouse," he says, grabbing some pizza.

"I'm Angel. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Good pizza," he says, in between bites. "Different. What's your when and where?"

"Different, but it works. And New York, 1997. You?"

"Zion, 2199-ish. Or 1999, I guess. Depends on your point of view." Mmmpizza.

"Sounds complicated."
It's probably an understatement along the lines of calling Christmas Eve complicated, but it works.

"Yeah, it is. Was. Something." Oh, tenses.

That gets a raised eyebrow. "Dead?"

"Yep. SWAT team," he explains. "You?"

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Roger, on the other hand, is sitting crosslegged by the fire, deeply absorbed in his own notebook. He also has a bowl of popcorn and a note (http://www.livejournal.com/community/milliways_bar/5601148.html?#cutid1); every so often, his hand snakes out to grab a few kernels before he returns to reading.

Angel sees him and grins. They need to talk anyway.
The pizza'll travel, right? Of course right. That decided, he heads over. "Oh, you're out. Great."

"I've been out since Saturday," he replies distantly as he turns a page, not looking up at Angel. "So they told you about me turning into a psychopathic stalker too, huh?"

"Heard it from Faith, apparently not long after she talked to you about it. Possibly the single weirdest thing I've heard in here so far, and that's saying a lot."

He snorts quietly and snags a few more bits of popcorn. "Yeah, not something I really want to repeat either...at least, not the part where I got tackled out of the rafters, kneed in the balls, and started bleeding everywhere."

Another page turns.

"...Okay, I missed that part of the story. Anything else new?"

At that, Roger finally looks up and smiles a little bit.

He pulls the note out of the back of his notebook, where he'd tucked it for safekeeping, and hands it to Angel.

And he reads, and his eyes widen.
"A recording studio? Holy shit."

Roger laughs. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too," he says. "I just started talking to him out of the blue the other day, and he brought it up; he's Charlie's brother, was in the band with him a while back."

"Met him yesterday, and he didn't even mention this. To be fair, I don't think a reason to really came up, but still."
And what's more, it's got Roger happy. Definitely the happiest Angel's seen him in the bar, and possibly ever.
...Wow.

"I might even have something to record in there pretty soon. Check this out."

He flips back to where he was before -- lines upon lines of orchestral arrangements -- and holds it up so Angel can get a clear view.

"Last week, I was hearing music constantly; probably the only good thing that came out of all of this stalker shit. And I started writing it down. It's all orchestral, opera, that kind of thing, but some of it -- " He turns a few more pages. "I think I can use it, if I change it around enough."

Another small, proud smile.

"My song's somewhere in here, Angel."