milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Samantha's inna bar...atta booth!!

No paperwork this time, but a chocolate milkshake and what looks like a fingerprint kit and a remote control. She's cataloguing fingerprints, dog prints, hamster prints and cat prints off of the smooth back of the remote, for Tim.

Come and chat. Just don't knock over the powder.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Same here. Not many furry animals or aliens I've met...a lot of people from another galaxy though. All the same other galaxy that is."

"From the same? That's unusual. Nice, though, if they all know each other. It'd cut down on Bound loneliness."

Of course, he should talk; there are a bunch of angels in the Bar.

"They do know each other...but a lot of them are from different times so it's weird." She shrugs. She and Andrew are from the same time, and really, that's all that matters.

"Oh. Well. That could be... awkward."

Remiel grins and imagines his own galaxy.

"'When you get to that theatre, Mr. Lincoln, duck.'"

Sam giggles. She shouldn't. It's not funny.

But it is. "That would've been nice for him to know before walking in..."

He grins broadly.

"Well, if we see him, we can warn him, then. Although I don't know how I'd start that conversation."

"Hi Mr. President...uh, duck when you get in the theatre?"

She giggles again. "I think he'd give us one of those what the hell expressions before running away..."

Remiel tilts his head, laughing softly.

"Oh, he'd run away, all right, but you know he'd be very honest about it."

"Wait, it was George Washington who was honest I thought. Or is there some quote I can't remember that Lincoln said?" Sam bites her lip, eyebrows raised.

"I think mortals have that phrase... 'Honest Abe?'" Remiel squints at the ceiling, pondering a moment. "Yes, I think that's it. He was my favorite united states president, anyhow -- good sense of humor."

"Oh you're right." Sam scrunches her face up. "I feel stupid. Sorry!"

She pauses. "Mortals? Did you...know Lincoln?"

Remiel grins. "Hey, your math continues to avoid me."

He shrugs, then. "Personally? Oh, no -- but I wish so, perhaps. Of him, sure, there... was a lot of activity there, during his presidency. A little hope, although not a lot of it..."

He has a special place in his heart for optimists and idealists.

"What are you?" Sam asks, fascinated.

Is there any subtle way to put it?

"I'm an, ah, archangel," Remiel grins, perhaps a tad embaressedly.

"Rock." Sam grins. "That's cool. What's it like? I work for a law firm. I hate it."

Nice...comparison to jobs, Sam.

His grin brightens -- that went over well.

"Like? Well... I don't know if I could compare it, exactly. Nothing like your law firm, I'm sure. My 'area' is prophetic dreams and ressurection."

"Awesome. Prophetic dreams...I've never had one." She shakes her head. "Unless the one about giant pink bunnies was a prophecy and we're screwed..."

Remiel laughs softly at that. "I don't think so. That'd take a malicious breeder, patience and lots of pink dye, at any rate."

Sam giggles. "That's so true. But awesome job, man."

(ooc; slowtime please. *glares at mother*)

"Well, more like a purpose, not a job, but thanks," he grins. "It has its 'perks.'"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only