milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Damn it!" Spike barely has time to cover his tequila in hopes it doesn't become really watery tequila and glares at the head of hair that soaked him, his drink, and almost -- almost -- put out his cigarette.

And that would have really pissed him off.

She cringes the second she notices that she's caught someone. "Sorry, it's tipping it down outside."

Eyes narrowed, he looks from her to the door and wonders things like and they don't believe in towels where you come from? and at least shake yourself off in the damn hallway going upstairs and if you hadn't done it in the first place you wouldn't be stuck apologizing to me now but he doesn't say any of those things.

Instead, he shakes off his left hand, transfers his glass to that hand, and shakes off his right hand.

And just smokes. She does look pretty damn wet, his tequila's intact, and his curiosity is piqued.

"Where's outside for you?"

"Ankh-Morpork," A quick appraiding glance prompts her to continue: "I'm guessing you don't know it."

He strokes his chin. "Ankh-Morpork, Ankh-Morpork. Sounds like this marketplace in Galileo City on Venus but..."

Spike lets out a short laugh. "No, I don't know it."

Oh, yeah. And who the hell are you? Blowing a ring of smoke up and away, he stubs out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray and holds out his hand. "I'm Spike, and unless you let me know otherwise, I'm going to have to call you Soaking Wet."

"I don't know Galileo nor Venus," she says. "It's on the Disc. And I'm Angua."

She shakes his hand and smiles, mouth closed. "Nice to meet you. And sorry for the soaking."

He shrugs. Just gives him an excuse to get out of clothes once he gets upstairs, really, and that thought makes him grin. "It's all right. Clothes dry."

Eventually.

He doesn't know what the Disc is or might be, but it's really not his concern.

"You know, if you're really nice the bar will give you a towel..."

She smirks faintly and nods agreement.

"Yes, she's done so before." It's just that shaking is first instinct. "Excuse me."

And in a few moments, she's retreated to the Bar and returned with a towel and a gin and tonic. "Mind if I join you?"

He gestures to a nearby table. "Free seating last I looked." Frankly, he can't imagine this place if seating was assigned like at some reception or whatever. Then he'd definitely spend all his time either upstairs or outside.

It always amazes him that he's been here a year and there are so many people he's never even seen before. To be polite but not too polite -- because that sometimes gets misinterpreted by people here as him being too male or too macho or too old-fashioned or whatever -- he pulls out two chairs from the table and takes one for himself, setting down the glass of tequila. "You've been here a while?"

"A few months," she says, taking the seat without seeming to react to his level of politeness - Carrot always insists on holding her chair, the guys in the Watch, not so much.

"I don't come in very often though, and dont really know many people. How about you?"

He reaches into his pocket for his pack of smokes and lighter and draws them out, offering her a cigarette out of the pack.

Because he really does have bar etiquette down pretty well, and did even before this place. "Been here a year." He shakes his head. "Long time." Spike points to the viewing window. "I guess we're all from out there somewhere, huh."

Leaning back in his chair, he stretches out his legs. "Used to not be able to leave. Now I can... at least every now and then. Go figure."

She declines the cigarette, and leans back with her drink, out of the way of the smoke, but not obviously objecting to his choice to smoke. She's used to smokers, but still likes to avoid the smell.

"Guess so," she says. "But i've yet to see a turtle swimming through that, so I usually assume I'm from a little farther out than most.

"Don't know what I'd do if I were Bound, though. I'm very glad I'm not."

He nods, waving his own smoke away from her. "Yeah, it pretty much sucked. I think..." He pauses. "I think I wasn't supposed to go for a while. Beth -- she's my... friend -- couldn't leave either, but then one day we both got to leave together. We've done it a few times since then, once to her world and a few times to mine."

But he shrugs, all cool lack of concern. "I figure whatever happens happens, right? It's giving me a break from work anyhow."

He laughs.

Work. Right.

Angua nods. "Lucky that you can leave together, though. And that you know each other from the bar. My Friend is back in the city, so I'd be Bound away from him.

"What's work for you?"

"Bounty hunter." He rests his head on his hand, cigarette in the ashtray, tracing invisible patterns on the table in front of him.

Then he glances up at her. "What is it you do out there?"

He could probably guess, but he won't.

Angua gives him another appraising glance. He's wearing an awful lot of clothes for someone in a line of work she metnally files under 'Barbarians, heroes and mercenaries'.

"Watchman," she answers, lifting her head to show the badge on a collar around her neck.

He shrugs, a little perplexed. "What the hell's a watchman?"

The cigarette just dances between his fingers now; he taps ashes off its end and watches the tobacco burning.

Watchman.

It smells like cop to him.

"An officer in the City Watch," she explains, and clairfies further: "Policeman."

She sighs inwardly, prepared for the conversation to trail off. Coppers really can't get on with anyone else, can we?

He nods, taking a sip of the tequila. "My partner out there's an ex-cop. Comes in handy, too: he has a lot of good contacts."

Spike gestures one more time to the window. "Out there we lived on a ship, and... traveled from planet to planet, moon to moon, asteroid to asteroid, whatever. It's a lot of ground to cover, the whole solar system. The cops need help; they can't possibly cover the whole place. So..."

He looks back at her. "So."

"So they take on outside help," she finishes, accepting, but not entirely amused. Carrot would be distressed at the idea. Mister Vimes...

Mister Vimes would go spare.

"Fortunately, we just have to guard the one city, and we're big enough for that, mostly."

He nods: he gets it about protection and being proprietary and all that shit. People want to hang onto their own turf, whether they're cops or Syndicate or bounty hunters or criminals. That whole thing about people returning to the scene of the crime is true. He knows it.

"Our city cops are probably the same way. Not making any promises about that, though." With a grin, he raises his glass and takes a sip of the tequila. He drinks that because it goes well with cigarettes more than anything.

"So, in your world, what kind of weapons do you use?" He knows they're from different worlds -- different universes -- but some things are the same no matter where you are.

She taps the standard issue sword on her belt.

"Mostly, we're supposed to stick to non-letahl force, like the truncheon," she adds to the gesture.

She generally seems unimpressed with both soward and blunt instrument. But saying 'I can tear out a man's throat with my teeth' has not been known to make her many friends.

Well. That'll teach him to be observant: a sword. Fucking people and their swords, like Vicious with his damn katana. Spike shakes his head a little. "Non-lethal is helpful. You study any martial arts or any shit like that?"

Stretching his head to one side, he can feel his neck make a popping sound and it's pretty satisfying. He's studied Jeet Kune do for well over half his life.

"Not formally," Angua says, carefully. "I, uh, never really had the need for it."

This goes back to the being able to tear a man's jugular out mentioned before. She even looks away when she hears the crunch of hs neck bones. That's not really helping.

"I take it you have, then?"

He nods. "Sometimes, a gun's just what you want. But other times..."

Hell, it's just the way it is. "Started studying when I was 11. Loved it, never looked back." He doesn't tell her anything else about his history with Jeet Kune Do: how he got started, or why he picked that, or any of that shit. But he does glance at the door leading to the lake. "I've been teaching it to a couple people here, too. It's fun." A small smile lights his face. "Saved my ass more times than I can count."

Angua visibly cringes at the word 'gun'. She can't help it.

"I'm sure it has," she agrees. "We sometimes have a few monks from the monsteries up in the Ramtops around the city. People learn very fast not to pick fights with them."

"I imagine so."

Not that he knows any monks, but he's heard stories and seen the old movies and all that shit. Hell, he just watched Seven Samurai, or part of it.

"So. You said it's Angua, right?" It's a pretty name, really. "What brought you to the bar today? I bet it sure as hell wasn't to shake off the rain onto me." He taps out his cigarette, all done smoking for the time being, and tests to see how wet his hair still is. Really, it's not that bad.

She nods confirmation at her name.

"Well, it's mostly because the Bucket has a huge hole in the roof, making it no dryer than standing in the street. And the other tavern I frquent has begun to attract a crowd I don't much care for."

Every so often, Biers becoems overrun by a certain type of young person who wears a lot of black lace, and names themselves after a fungus. They don't tend to last long.

The one thing there's no shortage of in his world -- no matter where you are, no matter what planet or moon -- is bars. And he's been to most of them, too.

Spike glances up to the ceiling. "This place looks pretty solid. I don't think we're in danger of getting drenched sitting here, unless someone else from your world comes in and shakes off. Is that what you guys do there? Your standard-issue way of drying off?"

"It does," she agrees, then sighs apologetically. "No, that's a... quirk of mine. A bad habit I picked up from my father. Sorry, again."

He shrugs, raising his glass to her. "You caught me in a good mood, and it's not like I've never been out in the rain before."

Oh, yeah, I have.

It's actually kind of a recurring theme for him, for his whole life. Funny how that's happened.

"So what do you cops think of bounty hunters?" He knows it varies from place to place and he's got no illusions otherwise. He's been on both sides of the law and knows how it goes. And in some places, bounty hunters don't even come close to being societally acceptable.

Not that it matters to him. He's good with the way it is in his world.

Angua gives this all due consideration.

"Depends who they're working for. My boss would never hire one himself, but private mercenaries, or assassins, as long as they're working within the law, isn't our respoinsibility."

"Hell, ma'am, I've got a license and everything." He flashes her a small smile. "We're kind of like... some adjunct police force. Doesn't keep the cops from arresting us if they want, though."

He rubs his left eye, then blinks hard two, three times. He's used to it and he's used to Beth knowing about it, but he forgets that other people don't know he has that fake eye.

And then it's back to business as usual. Spike takes the final sip of his tequila, looking into the empty glass.

More or not? He glances to the door from upstairs, trying to will Beth to show up, but she doesn't. Like he could force her into anything anyhow.

Angua smirks. "Wouldn't really affect me anyway. You're not in my city."

She follows his eyes. "She upstairs?"

"Yeah."

He doesn't care if his heart's on his sleeve.

Doesn't care at all.

Her smile softens a little. "So is there any reason why you're downstairs?"

He laughs. "Yeah, my shower was occupied so I came down here for one."

Spike picks up his cigarettes and lighter, tucking them into his jacket pocket. "No, I was outside, getting some exercise. I work out every day, and I'd just finished and changed out of my workout clothes and decided to come down here for a drink. And..." He shrugs. "...then it rained on me."

But he pushes his chair back, standing tall and skinny as always, still grinning. "And that's the whole sad story."

Angua nods, with a smirk, remaining seated as she still has a drink.

"It was certainly good to meet you, Spike. Give my regards to your friend."

Beth. Her name's Beth.

But Angua doesn't need to know that. He gives her a nod and a smile. "It's been fun. Catch you next time it rains."

And with the smile spreading to his eyes, he turns and heads toward the stairs.