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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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."

Angel smiles. "And again, holy shit. Glad you're finally getting somewhere with that."

"Yeah, me too."

He hesitates.

"...There might be something else, too."

"Something else? Like what?"

Roger takes a deep breath and turns both hands palm-up, looking down at them.

"Like I might be talking to a doctor who's from five hundred years in the future, sooner or later."

"...I don't think I need to ask what about."

He nods, silent for a long moment.

"All I did was ask Faith if she knew somebody I could talk to about getting bloodwork done. Routine stuff. And...his name's Simon, and he's -- " He breaks off into a small, choked laugh. "He's from the twenty-sixth century. I've been trying not to get my hopes up too much, just in case it's...but that's not working too well."

"If I were still sick, I'd be hoping just as hard, believe me." And he is, sort of, because on the one hand he knows just how not-fun it is.
But on the other... Roger was still sick when Angel first met him, which doesn't bode well for his chances at the moment.

"Yeah."

Another stretch of silence. Eventually, Roger breathes out again and pries his attention away from his hands, glancing back up at Angel.

"So that's everything new with me. What about you?"

"Not a whole lot, really. Catching up with people, meeting other people, the usual." He doesn't mention that in an awful lot of these conversations, he's ended up talking about Roger.
"And I found out a friend miscarried. Haven't seen her since before that, but from what I've heard, she's not taking it very well at all."

"Oh, shit." Roger hisses in a wince. "I'm sorry, man. Do they know why it happened?"

"Probably because she wasn't taking care of herself. One of her worse habits, that. And much as it sucks that this happened... I'm kind of hoping she acknowledges the bad habit, now. Some people have to learn the hard way, after all."

That...probably ends up hitting much closer to home than Angel intended.

"Not to the point where you end up losing a kid, though," he says, a little too sharply.

"This is true." He sighs.
"I don't think she's back from the hospital yet - it's possible she is, and people are making her stay in bed or something. I'm gonna have to get her side of things, when she's up for giving it."

"Good to know you've got enough courtesy to wait."

A little too clipped. He bends back over his notebook.

"I don't know what I said, but I'm sorry."
He also doesn't know how to get Roger's good mood back, or if much of anything can do so just now. All he knows is he's apparently struck a nerve.

Roger sighs, shaking his head. "Sorry," he mutters. "Just had to put up with a lot of that shit from Mark back home. I'm sure you know all about it."

He's still got his eyes on his notebook, though.

"You could say that, yeah."
Actually, from what he remembers, Mark wasn't all that bad, in that regard. But Mimi probably had quite a bit to do with that.

"Anyway, I should keep working on this. See what I can find." He fishes out another handful of popcorn from the bowl. "Good talking to you, Angel."

"Yeah. Good luck with that."

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