our troubles are all the same

[cons]

CHARACTERS: Wichita and YOU. well, the bartenders and bar regulars. or not-regulars!
LOCATION: Space Babylon
WARNINGS: booze?
SUMMARY: No special occasion here, just an open post for anybody that frequents the space bar. mix and mingle, friends. put up open threads for your characters, or talk to Wichita, or. whatever. anything goes!


[ it's been nearly a week since the last jump, and Wichita's still in a shit mood. which she hates to admit, but it's the truth. she misses Brendan, way way too much. no really, it's too much. she's furious with herself for letting herself get that attached to someone, because she knew, she knew this could happen and it's still chewing up her insides like something our of a dramatic chickflick. her life feels like a sad, sappy little montage from a really terrible space-romance movie right now, and it's making her feel even worse than losing him in the first place. she isn't getting trashed ( at least, she hasn't yet ) and she isn't wasting bullets at the gun range, she's just- doing nothing. at the bar. she's spending all her time at the bar like serving drinks and distracting herself with other people's problems will make hers go away.

it's failing, but whatever. it's easier to not get angry or sad over the situation if she doesn't let herself think about it too much.

so there she is, behind the bar, Jenna's iPod providing a decent mix of tunes over the speakers possibly a little too loud because she doesn't care to overhear anybody's conversations today. either that, or she's too lazy to turn down the volume. either way. she's not looking all that approachable ( at least, not as much as she usually does while she's here ), but she'll probably be the one mixing your drinks today, so. hope you're not too put-off by that. then again, if you're somebody she actually wants to talk to, she might stretch a smile across her face for your benefit. which is the closest thing to a 'no please come talk to me' you'll ever get from her. ]

Comments

[legiondary]

Nothing interesting, really. Ser Reckless, because he was playing with a little kid and his puppet was almost torn apart by an ogre doll.

[ that is still terribly amusing. ]

I wouldn't have pegged him as the type to like toys.

[antivanleather]

That is actually quite apt, at least from when I know him. He does not always act before thinking it through but there are times when I wonder if he thinks at all.

[He shouldn't. But, of course, he does anyway with a gleeful smile.]

Figurines. He calls them statuettes but I remember the Warden fetching a few for him during our travels, and he'd always be so very happy to get them.

[legiondary]

That's most of the Commander's friends for you. He seems to attract a certain type, for the most part. We're lucky not to fall inside those brackets.

[ oh this is gold! 8D ]

Like.. let me guess! A little boy at the holiday humans call Satinalia?

[antivanleather]

Working with The Warden tends to inspire a certain level of recklessness even among us pragmatists. I would not otherwise charge an Ogre with naught but my twin blades and no plan.

[He cracks a low laugh.]

Yes! That is exactly it.

[legiondary]

A good plan with those is to go for its back and pray your stealth skills keep it from noticing you stabbing it repeatedly. I've tried that one before. It takes erm, a certain amount of luck. You might have a better shot than I did.

[ she laughs, too. ]

There's some thing almost cute about that. He's still got some innocence to him, even at his age and after all he's been through. Impressive.

[antivanleather]

I...may have jumped on it's back from the side. Those horns do not make for the best hand holds when they are still, worse when they are already slick with the blood and entrails of a large spider.

[After a moment he shrugs, sipping his beer.]

Not my finest moment, but I did bring it down. A sword through the skull kills most things.

[legiondary]

Oh, gross! In that case, I'd have flanked, too. I don't care for spider entrails.

[ she tosses back a sip or 2 of her beer. ]

Every thing dies eventually, if you stick it with a sword enough times.

And it's nothing to be ashamed of. If you need me to, I'll swear on my pinky not to tell another soul.

[ she grins as she sets down her mug. ]

[antivanleather]

They smell horrible. And the texture- ugh. Sometimes slimy, sometimes sticky, getting it out of leather is awful. And if it is embossed? Cleaning takes hours.

[He shudders at the memory and after a moment's thought, extends a gloves hand, pinky held out for her.]

I shall take you on that.

[legiondary]

The poisonous crawlers smell worse than rotten eggs when they're killed. It's disgusting.

A good wade through a river generally can take care of the worst of it, though! You should always look on the bright side of things.

[ oho! she hooks her pinky around his. ]

You have my oath.

[antivanleather]

And this, Darling Sigrun, is why you are my favorite dwarf.

[Zevran gives their hands a shake, completing the childhood ritual with all due seriousness and then some.]

You are delightfully practical and perfectly optimistic. It is a wonder.