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

[idkmybffbloodwing]

Well, if the chickens like 'em, then it's good enough for us, huh?

[He grins, then tries a different one, and it's sweet but sort of bland, nothing special.]

What's the one you've got there like?

[handelaar]

Mm.

[Just a noncommital grunt - if it didn't make the chickens sick it shouldn't make two guys many, many times their size sick either - and then he glances back and forth before answering. Nope, still not gonna offer yet.]

Called a kuim. Asato grows 'em, but the next batch won't be ready for - months.

[It's with that caveat that he shifts to pull out his pocketknife, slices off a piece and pauses, not sure how to hand it over without immediately trying to grab it back. Fuck masks, man. Uh. Finally his eyes light on a coaster and slaps it toward himself, thumbs off the fruit, and slides it over without looking.]

[idkmybffbloodwing]

[The guy sure seems reluctant to hand over a piece of fruit, and he has to wonder if it's addictive or something, to cause that kind of reaction, because that sure looks like more than a standard "this is delicious and I want to eat it all myself". He drags the coaster toward him and picks up the slice of fruit, and has a bite, nodding a little.]

Kuim, huh? That's pretty damn good.

[But not amazing or anything, exactly, and he finishes off the slice, then looks for something else to try out.]

[handelaar]

[He doesn't look up until Mordecai's speaking and he's sure they won't have to deal with any strange grabby-hands tendencies, because goddamn if he wants to explain that. On the other hand enough people seem to accept "mask shit" as an explanation - whatever. The hard part's over with, so he nods at a neon-skinned specimen and busies himself with his drink.]

Try that. Or the berries - [here he tips his glass toward some, and hey, he knows those; simple raspberries, blueberries. He downs the rest of his drink and fishes out a cigarette instead. Pretty much anything to keep from getting weird and possessive.]

[idkmybffbloodwing]

[Mordecai isn't as familiar with Earth plants and he samples each, curious. The blueberry holds his attention, though, as a definite possibility - it has a pretty strong flavor, the skins would make for a nice, dark brew, and the seeds are small enough to be ignored for the most part.]

You know anything about this one?

[He holds one up, before eating it.]

[handelaar]

Mm.

[There lasts an awkward few seconds where he grunts that and doesn't think to elaborate, just lights and smokes his cigarette in silence before he recalls that most people here aren't from earth. So right. Blueberries.]

Blueberry. Cold-weather fruit. From the... [yeah that won't mean a damn thing will it] It does alright, on the ship.

[idkmybffbloodwing]

I kinda like it. You ever had blueberry wine before?

[There's a few blackberries in the mix too, and he goes ahead and tries one of those - and now the blueberry has a challenger, because this one is pretty good, too. Maybe he'll have to do multiple batches and try a few things out, if he has to be stuck here long enough to do so.]

[handelaar]

Uh. No... lambic.

[Which. Also doesn't mean a damned thing, does it. Although after this long separated from his sister he could definitely go for a blueberry lambic. It'd suck compared to hers, too, so he shelves it before he ever voices it. So moving along, and he sees how many things Mordecai is testing out.]

Could try a couple-a batches. Hard part is finding the machinery. Fruit grows fast in the gardens.

[idkmybffbloodwing]

[Yeah he has no idea what that is so he lets it go, preferring to focus on the task at hand. The neon one is okay, though it has an aftertaste he doesn't care for.]

I'll start with one. No need to get completely over my head.