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For the most part, Ariadne sort of assumed she had some type of idea as to why he wanted the two of them to meet up for drinks. As she had in fact clearly overreacted not too long ago - snapping at him for no apparent reason other than her frustration. It would only make sense that he would have to be somewhat curious as to how she was holding up now. Because, to be honest, the two had met under some rather interesting circumstances (showing up and looking like her recently dead friend can be rather interesting, right?) that it became somewhat obvious; he would know why she was the way she was for the most part. (The whole story wasn't exactly something she would just share with anyone - aside from a select few though.)

So at his request, she agreed - even if she wasn't a big drinker - she figured she owed it to him for the way she was behaving after all. Because really, she honestly knew she was not dealing with things the way that she should, and being able to get most of it off her chest with Tyke just before the jump honestly helped her to see that much.

And so a few minutes after the set time (1900 hours apparently) she was rounding the corner towards the club, her hands shoved in her pockets of her jeans, as her thumb brushed over her now pointless totem, spotting him as she did.

"Hey." She called out casually as she continued on towards him, looking slightly apologetic for just a brief moment. "Sorry I'm late - I realize how long it would take to get here from my room." As obviously she wasn't a patron at the club very often (if ever) the need to time the distance between there and her room never seemed that important to her.

"It's all right, it's not an appointment or anything," he pointed out, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It was strange - he rarely let himself get close to anyone, rarely laughed or smiled or joked around. He was pretty sure that before showing up on the Tranquility, it had been five months at least since he'd done anything for fun.

This wasn't fun, really. That wasn't why he was here, but even so, even knowing what he planned to talk to her about, his shoulders still relaxed a little. For some reason, he was becoming comfortable around Ariadne. Maybe enough to almost call her a friend.

He got them a couple of beers (or what passed for beer on a space ship, and found a table away from anyone else who was there. This conversation was to be private, just between them.

"You've been doing okay, since the jump?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink. It wasn't fantastic, but it was alcoholic. He could use the liquid courage.

Her smile was faint and followed by a small shrug of her shoulder, as her head bobbed at his question, letting her attention drift on all that was around them. "I'm fine." She said quietly, knowing for the most part it was the truth and she could pull of fine for as long as she needed to.

A sigh escaped her, as her attention moving back onto him as she offered him a faint smile, asking in hopes of changing the subject in a sense. "…how about you?"

Blake nodded faintly at her, slowly rolling the beer bottle between his hands. "I'm good. I've been a little concerned about you, though. It seemed like you've been getting pretty angry at people - people who care about you."

Her brow furrowed at that, sending him a clearly uncertain look, as she honestly didn't understand why he cared. "What do want me to say? I hate this ship, and I honestly just want to go home." She said softly, knowing she wasn't really answering his comment with much.

But in her mind, she was dealing with things people just wouldn't understand, so getting into it honestly seemed to be a waste. "Seriously John, it's...I'll be okay." She attempted to stress as her attention went down to her drink, as a small frown tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Edited 2012-09-17 09:11 (UTC)

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he said with a nod. "You seem like a tough person. A smart person. I also don't think the anger suits you, though."

He glanced at her and took a swig of his beer. "I won't try to tell you not to be angry. I won't try to tell you how to deal with your loss. Your friend, I mean, who died here. Everybody deals with that in different ways. But you're not alone, you know, and you don't have to push away everyone who cares about you."

Her frown deepened at that, as her head shook no in disagreement with his remarks. "You say that like you honestly know what its been like being here - you don't, John." She quietly said as she glanced up at him for a brief moment, letting that clear sadness she'd been caring around with her for months show. "It's not just Arthurs death, John - it's everything."

As her whole world had now been flipped upside down and she just didn't know how to deal with it anymore.

He nodded. "It's different for everyone. I'm not pretending I know the particulars of what's bothering you. What I am saying is - you don't have to bottle it all up until it explodes in anger."

Blake studied her for a moment, then nodded, almost to himself, before he started speaking again. "I don't remember much about when my mother died. I was small - three years old or so. I didn't understand what was going on. My father did his best, but times were tough, and he was a working-class single dad. When he got fired from a job, he drank and went gambling. He couldn't afford babysitters, so he took me with him a lot.

"I was eight when he was gunned down, over a gambling debt. I saw it happen. I saw the bookie shoot him, bam-bam, two rounds right in the chest. He died while I watched." He wasn't even looking at Ariadne, he was staring at his beer, but he obviously wasn't seeing the bottle.

His story has her clearly falling silent for a moment, as she just quietly watched him with a small frown in sadness.
Sure she wanted to say she was sorry for his loss (it was a standard thing to say), but she didn't, because even she knew saying that honestly wouldn't change much of anything for him. So instead she just sighed faintly, as her hand started to unconsciously rub at the back of her neck.

"What happened to you then?" She carefully asked, as she looked up at him with a clear look of uncertainty. Honestly wondering what his life must have been like from then on.

It was... nice, not to have all that sympathy (pity, his mind still supplied, no matter how much time had passed) just thrown at him, useless apologies, empty platitudes, he'd heard it all.

It was why he didn't talk about this with just anyone. Why even his partner hadn't known much about him - hadn't known where he'd spent most of his formative years.

So he smiled - maybe a little wry - and looked at her again. "Well, that's an interesting story. I didn't have any other family, so I got put into the system. Shuffled around a few foster homes. I was still pretty young, though too old for anyone to want to adopt me, and of course, orphans always get a lot of sympathy - at least, when we're paraded in front of the rich folks at parties and such. But they don't like to think about how the kid might actually be affected by losing their parents, you know? So I'd be in one foster home for a few weeks, and when I wouldn't stop being sullen and difficult and anti-social, they would toss me out again.

"That happened, oh, three or four times. Then they realized foster homes weren't working, so they put me in a boys' home. By that time, I was thirteen, and pissed off at the whole damn world."

She knew (or assumed) it must have taken John a lot to actually admit this to her, as she figured it wasn’t something that he talked about very openly with people. And for that, she couldn’t help but be somewhat touched, and maybe even a little concerned. As she honestly wasn’t sure if he was doing it out of pity (she didn’t want to be someone’s project to fix) or because he honestly trusted her enough to open up like that. Sure she knew there had to always be some degree of trust that was formed between the two (she might even almost call him a friend). But there was still that part of her, that honestly wasn’t sure what the motivation behind this admission was – especially here, in this place.

So she sighed in silent consideration over it all, letting her attention slowly focus back down on to the table and the set of drinks, as she lost herself in her own thoughts for a moment. Knowing full well; she would never understand what he must of went through (frankly, she shouldn't even try to pretend that she did) but there was a part of her that only could wonder about the emotions that were involved in it. In turn, honestly causing her to wonder; just what might relate to her in some small way. (All the anger, sadness, frustration and hopelessness that could only be a part of that type of thing - she honestly knew those feelings now – or at least she thought she did.)

"So what did you do?" She quietly asked as she looked back up at him with a clear uncertainty, finally reaching for her drink and toying with the rim of the glass.

He could see the gears working in her head - he knew it would probably be a shock to her, to hear all of this from him out of the blue. He didn't want her to think he pitied her, or that he was doing this to try and make her feel guilty for being sad about her friend's death, as though he was saying 'look how good you have it compared to me'.

That wasn't at all what he was trying to do here, and her simple question almost made him smile a little. He liked that question, he liked that she still wasn't bothering to apologize, or pick apart his feelings. Just curious as to what he did.

"I lashed out a lot, at people who were trying to help. I met a guy, he's a priest. Father Reilly, he ran the boys' home where I ended up at. He was the first person who didn't let me push him away. No matter how many times I told him to fuck off, he just kept coming back, never asking anything of me that I couldn't give. Just letting me know that someone gave a crap. And eventually, he taught me something that changed things for me.

"He taught me that I didn't have to try and stop being angry. He taught me that it's okay to feel that way, and he taught me that I have a choice - I can decide what to do with those feelings. If I wanted to push everyone away, lash out at people, I could. Or I could turn those feelings to other things. Maybe things that would help others. Things that might do good."

Finally taking a slow sip of her drink, cringing at the taste as she did (what the hell was this supposes to be - other than a foul tasting alcohol), she curiously asked, "And what about now?" as she eyed the beverage again in a silent debate on taking another swig from it.

Knowing she knew he was dealing with things fairly well here - or at least he appeared to be on the surface - but part of her wondered just how much of that was an actual act to hide everything else he was dealing with. Because like it or not, she knew he knew she was having her own issues, so if she could at least try to find some commonality with the two here, it would only maybe help in some way and she wouldn’t seem so skeptical. (maybe)

"Now?" He shrugged, staring down at his beer again. "Now, I just try to find ways to help, however I can. Keep busy, do things that'll improve people's circumstances."

She still didn't know what his life had been like back in Gotham the past few months, he wasn't sure he wanted to dump that on her, too. But he was handling the ship okay, as long as he kept busy. As long as he didn't have to think about it too much.

Her brow furrowed in a silent consideration again, just wanting to put what he was saying into words that could possibly relate to her. And for the most part, she got it and she could. But there was still that part of her that honestly wasn't able to see how she could focus on things that wouldn't be a constant reminder of things she was trying to forget about.

"I help when I can." She quietly pointed out with a small shrug, looking back up at him with a furrowed brow. "I made the maps after all." And those maps are what people have used to get lost here, which really doesn't reassure her much on how helpful she is being (but she'll never admit that).

"But making a difference here is honestly a lot harder then it appears." She continued, again shrugging slightly as she took a long swing of her drink - cringing at the taste yet again, before she was sighing deeply and quietly adding: "I want to help, I do. I just don't know how to anymore." And that was the truth, and it scared her (her expression said that much loud and clear). Because she was always the type of person that was willing to take a chance on things - go with her gut - and never give up. But now with things unfolding the way they were, it was honestly becoming harder and harder to do.

Blake nodded, watching her. "I understand. I do. I'm not saying you should go out and devote your life to helping little old ladies cross the road, or whatever." He waved his hand vaguely. "But I'm saying - we all have skills, talents, things we're good at. Some people are good with computers. Some people are, say, artists. Maybe the computer person can teach others how to use computers. Maybe the artist could start an art club.

"I like your idea of floor monitors, you know. And I'd be willing to lend a hand with that, if you want, my offer still stands on that front. Anyway, you don't have to take any of this as advice on how you should be handling your life. I don't make a habit of telling people how they should handle grief and trauma. That's a personal thing, and I'm not a psychiatrist. I just thought you seemed like you could use a reminder that you're not alone."

A faint snort of amusement slipped out of her at the idea of 'helping old ladies cross the road' and she smiled briefly, nodding slightly in understanding to show she got what he was saying. Because she got it - she did - and it would be so much different if this were going on back home where at least she could figure things out a bit more (or so she assumed). But she was here, and stuck with a ship full of people who she considered to be capable of anything - even murder.

"I'm not a people person, John." She said hesitantly as she took another sip of her drink, knowing it was somewhat of a lie, but in a sense, not. As she clearly was holding most people she considered to be friends even at arm’s length here - mostly due to her fear of abandonment (something she had clearly learned over time here). "So yeah, maybe I could find something to focus my energy on something like you said." She shrugged, her hand going to unconsciously start to rub at the back of her neck. "I mean, I like the monitor or something along those lines..." Though having Tyke not fully on board with it was making it a bit harder for her to figure out how to do, as she clearly meant a lot to Ariadne and didn’t want to lose her respect.

"But I'm not sure what good it's going to do" She sadly admitted with a frown, letting her attention drift on all that was around them again, quietly trying to find the words to her thoughts as she did.

"Because it won’t change the fact; I'm scared and I'm honestly tired of lying and pretending things are okay when they’re not." Or at least she was starting to feel that way, and she knew sooner or later things were going to catch up with her because of it.

"What good do you think a basketball club could do?" Blake asked quietly. "What good do you think it would do to offer other hobbies and leisure activities? Reduce stress? Allow people to have outlets other than violence and shouting at each other over the network? Give them something to think about other than how we're all stuck here?"

He shrugged a little and sipped at his beer. "We're all scared. This is a shitty situation. But we can still make choices about what to do with it."

She shrugged slightly, sighing in frustration (or more confusing), before focusing her attention fully on him, letting a clear frown settle across her face. "None of these things are going to change the fact; I'm pretending to be something I'm not, and I'm not good at that." She admitted, not really saying much more on it then that as she honestly didn't think she could.

"But whatever…" She shrugged, trying to take the focus off of her and her issues and moving it onto something else. "Maybe I'll go watch you play basketball or something."

Blake studied her carefully for a moment, his head tilted to one side. "Are you? A lot of people... wear masks. They all have their reasons."

Basically: if she wanted to tell him what she was getting at, she could. But he wasn't going to push it.

Her brow furrowed slightly at that, watching him in a silent consideration for a moment, debating on just what to share with him and what not. "Am I what?" She asked her brow arching silent question for a moment before she was shrugging and sitting back in her chair with a sigh. "Am I tired of constantly pretending to be something I'm not?"

"Yeah, yeah I am." She admitted, falling silent as she grabbed for her drink, taking a long swig of it, before she continued. "No one told me how I was supposed to be before all of this happened. So I'm learning as I go." Which was cryptic enough she figured, but it was truth in a sense. No one told her how she was supposed to deal with this type of thing.

"No one told you how you were supposed to be?" Blake asked curiously, confused by that statement. He didn't know what to make of her all of a sudden. He'd just been assuming that her time on the ship, coupled with the recent loss of her friend and then, well - his appearance, had started to push her over the edge. Now it felt like she was talking in riddles, somehow.

Again she shrugged, sighing as she tried to brush it off as nothing important. "It doesn't honestly matter, does it?" She asked, looking almost apologetic. "It's not going to change the fact; I hate being here and want to go home."

She stopped again shrugging as she finished off her drink, adding almost with a sigh: "I'm a good person, John, I am. I'm just someone that has to live a lie that I'm just not used to doing." Not that she was lying to him (she never had) it was just that, along with everything she had been dealing with her, she was having to figure out how to keep her lies up as well and it was honestly becoming frustrating.

If anything, what she said made Blake even more confused. "Ariadne, I think almost everyone hates it here and wants to go home. We're all pretty much on the same page with that. Doing something to make life more comfortable, or safer, won't change the fact that we are still trying to find a way home. You don't need to worry about that."

His head tilted again, his brow furrowing as she continued. "I'm sure you are a good person. But what kind of lie are you living? It sounds like there's something weighing on your conscience. What's going on?"

To be honest, Ariadne didn't expect him to understand (no one did) and she was fine with that for the most part - she had gotten used to the idea of having to try to work through this on her own. But the look in his eyes does have her slightly guilty for confusing him some - as it was never her intention to do so. So she sighs again, shoving her hand into her pockets of her jeans to rub her totem, silently debating on just how to approach things with him now.

"We're not all on the same page, John. That's the thing." She started to say as her brow furrowed slightly more. "I spent roughly nine months - or however long it was before you showed up - thinking this was a damn dream and that I would wake up from it." She finally admitted with a clear certainty to her words, just wanting to prove how serious she was about it. "And even that the people here weren’t real." Which could very well sound crazy, and she knows that, but she wasn't really about to fully go into details about it all - he didn't need that put on him after all.

"So yeah, I have a lot weighing on my mind now, John." She admitted with a small frown in frustration at just how true it was. "Because everything that I thought was a lie and just a damn dream, well it isn't now. And I can't tell anyone about it because they won’t understand what it's like."

As she spoke, realization of a sort dawned on Blake's face. It was odd to hear, but at the same time, well. It made sense. If she came from a world where people... had more active dreams, then... that made sense. Or at least, it helped make sense of what she was saying.

"And Arthur - he was from your world, too?" he heard himself ask. "So you can't talk to him about it anymore. That must be very difficult for you." He nodded. "I won't pretend to understand what that feels like, but I'm happy to listen if you need to talk." He thought it was only fair.

She smiled somewhat grateful that he wasn't asking too much on her admittance, as she honestly wasn't sure she was ready to even begin to go there with someone - even if she thought of them as somewhat a friend.

"Yeah, yeah he was." She admitted sadly, shrugging her shoulder just some. "But yeah, I'll keep it in mind - talking that is. No one really knows about it - and I'd like to keep it that way - so it's nice to know I can at least be honest with you." And she smiled just slightly, but more honestly then she had in a long time, as it was nice to have someone offer to listen to her like that.

"I mean, I'm glad you told me about things. It does help after all. And it does mean a lot to me." She may not fully understand what it's like for him, but knowing he wasn't just some perfect cop that took pity on her helped her out.

Blake nodded. "I get that, at least. Not wanting to just spill your whole life story to a bunch of strangers." He actually smiled at that - it was wry, but genuine. He hadn't told anyone else on the ship about his past, Ariadne was the first and it was only for a very specific reason.

But he had to admit, he was starting to feel comfortable with her - relaxed. That he could trust her.

Aw. It makes sense, really, that just when both John and Ariadne finished laying out both of their cards and came to terms with the fact that they might trust each other, it makes absolute sense that that's when Wichita would show up at the bar for her shift.

Whistling loudly.

While wearing her sombrero.

( It's practically her work uniform now, don't judge. )

She didn't think anyone would even be in here, usually when people help themselves to the booze when neither she nor Brian are there, they leave with it. So her boot scuffs a bit when she rounds the door and steps inside, stops whistling and hums, a quick shock from oh, people. But then she's cracking a grin.

"Wow, if it isn't literally the last two people I would ever expect to find hanging out in my bar, with drinks in their hands." It's probably annoying, how amused she is, but at least she isn't heading over to turn on the music first. Nah, they were obviously talking before she came in, so she leaves it alone for now.

"Evening, officer." Big charming smile! "Ariadne." Said smile shifts into the kind of smirk that happens whenever Wichita feels that triumphant moment of caught you, oolala. But again, mostly in jest, she's just in a good mood. "Hey wait, is that a smi- Are you smiling, John? I'll be damned, that's gotta be the first time I've ever seen you smile. How'd that happen?" Like it's some insane, rare occurrence.

Edited 2012-09-19 05:13 (UTC)

Somehow, it probably shouldn't have been surprising to Blake that Wichita chose that moment to come sauntering in. He didn't have anything against her, really, except maybe her propensity to not take anything seriously.

Still, it could've been worse. If Selina Kyle had decided to walk in? Blake might've actually tried to slide to the floor under the table. As it was, he took it in stride as much as he could.

"A bar is neutral territory," he pointed out, leaning back in his seat a little to give the impression of relaxation - despite the fact that most of their conversation had been far from relaxing. "Sometimes even I need a little liquid courage. Maybe it makes me more prone to smiling, too."

Then again, he hoped that wouldn't encourage her to try and get him drinking more.

Um, except that's exactly what it might do. Usually.

But she'll behave, for now, more interested in figuring how why they decided to get together for drinks ( although really, did there have to be a re- yes, yes there did, this is Ariadne she's speculating about ). She takes her usual seat behind the bar, one that's a little shorter than the stools they're sitting on at the other side, but this one's low enough to make it comfy when she props her feet up on the shelf under the bar.

"Fair enough." She tips her head back so her hat falls off, the thin rope around her neck stopping it from hitting the floor behind her. "I was just surprised to see anybody, actually. People don't usually stick around if there isn't music and whatever going on. Also, I could mix you a better drink than that space-beer, if you want. God, I can't even get through a bottle of that stuff."

Blake raised his eyebrows a little, but nodded. "Like I said: neutral territory."

He studied the bottle of beer in his hands, which was nearly empty by now, and shrugged. "I don't drink often, so it all tastes pretty nasty to me. But if Ariadne wants something else..." he glanced over at her in question.

Seriously, if you asked Ariadne to make a list of people she would rather not have seen right then, Wichita would have been one of them at the top. (And it was mostly due to her knowing; Wichita could clearly find ways to get under Ariadne's skin, leaving her frustrated and slightly embarrassed)

So the moment she walked in wearing that ridiculous hat (seriously, who the hell has that type of hat on hand up here?) she couldn't help but lineface (that is a word okay, arthur did it well) before shooting the girl with a look that said: don't even start with me. As she clearly could tell the other woman’s gears were turning with curiosity over the pair and why they were there.

"I don't know..." She finally said with a long drawn out sigh, her attention still on the woman in question, as she intently debated with herself on just what she should do (running away seemed a bit childish she thought). "If we leave now, she is just going to think we were up to something." Which the idea of, finally got a smirk to appear at the corner of her mouth, "So I suppose we could trust her - for now."

Oh. Her shoes hit the floor with that, elbows on her thighs, chin in her hands.

"Trust me with what? Were you guys telling secrets?"

No, she's not expecting them to just carry on their conversation. But it's fun playing it up. Rattle the tree, see what falls on her head. Right.

Blake looked from Ariadne to Wichita, his eyebrows raised. He shook his head slightly at the exchange between them, because it was clearly something he wasn't necessarily part of.

"Trust her with what?" he asked Ariadne. "We were just talking." Was she planning to tell Wichita his entire sob story about his parents' deaths?

And here comes the roll of her eyes in three, two, one.

"You never know, right?" she glanced over towards John with a shrug. "Who's to say; she wont make it her mission to get us drunk of our asses."

And yeah, that made no sense in her mind, but she was trying to keep it cool and not look like something clearly paranoid for no damn reason here.

That finally makes her laugh, break 'character' so she can sit back and chill again. She knows there's no way Ariadne actually thinks she'd try to get her, or John, drunk with ulterior motives, so there's no use pushing it. It makes her curious, but she'll leave it alone.

"First of all, if I ever get the chance to get you two drunk off your asses, it's not gonna be on this damn ship." Clue One that she's just talking to talk, the way she always does when she's behind the bar. It's all impossible, considering if any of them actually do get off the ship, there's a 98% chance they wouldn't end up in the same place anyway. "It'll be in some stupidly posh bar with ridiculously high priced booze, and it would all be just a hopeful experiment in trying to show you how to loosen up and have a good time like everybody else in the world." Because there are classier ways to get a person to spill secrets, duh.

Blake snorted at the absurdity of the mental image that brought on - because yeah, sure. Him in a swanky bar drinking an over-priced cocktail of some kind. Maybe with a paper umbrella in it, too. "Right. I think I'll stick to crappy space beer," he muttered, another faint smile coming to his lips.

Geez, the beer wasn't that strong.

"And you know the way to keep from getting drunk is to just say no, right?"

Again she just rolled her eyes, shooting Wichita with a clear look of mock amusement. It's funny, in a sense, Wichita somewhat reminds her of Eames (when he is trying to get under her skin) and she can't help but find it oddly curious. But whatever, she wasn't there to hear her life story after all, so she just adds the curiosity to the list of things she already had going on with the other girl.

A faint snort, and she is resting her elbows on the table, glancing between the two with an almost wry smile. "When we get back home, I'll buy you both a nice bottle of pinot noir and then we can see how drunk we can get." And the odd amusement in her voice at that can be heard. As she knows damn well, they aren't from the same place she is, so it was highly unlikely to happen (which in a sense, is sad)

"But anyway..." She sighed, attempting to change the subject, as she focused back up on Wichita. "Maybe you could just show us what's good?" Because clearly she needed to relax here and alcohol might just be the only answer..

"Ooo." Fancy wine. For a second, she's reminded of home 97? oh, that was a great year!, but it's easy enough to shove right back into place again, at the back of her mind. Her eyes drop to the shelf under the bar, to all those unmarked bottles.

"Good? Good isn't the word I'd use to describe any of the liquor we've got here. Uh, tolerable though, that I can manage. I usually just take shots of the stuff, it's better than trying to stomach any of the mixed drinks I can manage with what we've got here." What? Just being honest.

Okay, so maybe Blake kind of appreciated Wichita's honesty, there. It also - shock! - brought a small smile to his lips. "I'm sure you were just a fantastic bartender back home," he pointed out wryly. "If that's how you sell liquor, clearly you have a gift."

She sighed, more dramatically then perhaps she needed to, but she was trying to relax after all, and going through the motions seemed to help some (maybe). "Did you do this back home - bartending that is?" She curiously asked the other woman as she leaned fully up against the tabletop, looking at her with her brow faintly arched (yep, she will always find a way to ask questions about people - it's just who she is.)

"Because I wont lie; I'm curious what you can come up with to drink."