It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

[bonhomme7h.livejournal.com]

Who: EVERYONE
What: Réjean has decided that more people ought to celebrate and help raise a bit of dosh for one of his favourite bars. See: flyer.
Where: The Apache.
When: Misdi night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Warnings: Discussion of Pickman's manky feet.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Tonight, the bar is packed with people from all across the city, different cantons and cohorts, all out to celebrate surviving the fungal plague. Patrons are encouraged to buy tickets for a door prize with the proceeds going to repair the damage tunnelling ants made to the cellar.

Comments

[gotbottle]

"Shhhh," she says, trying to go for more of that fake admonishment but it's entirely undone because she's laughing. "Raylan, this is a bar, you don't bring facts to a bar, seriously."

[toooldforlosing]

"My sincere apologies," he laughs. "I will keep that in mind."

[gotbottle]

"Well." She's still laughing, her cheeks a bit more pink from it (and maybe the alcohol, too, a bit), as she rests her chin on her hand again. "I can let that go, this time. But now you know better, right?"

[toooldforlosing]

"First strike. Noted." He's relaxed, but seems together enough. "Hopefully I'm not killing your buzz too much with my logic."

[gotbottle]

"No! No, that's not a strike, I don't--" She takes her chin off her hand long enough to make a vague little wave with it, and then back it goes. "Do that. I don't hold things against people. It's fine. As is my buzz, thank you for asking."

[toooldforlosing]

"And it's very becoming on you," he says with a grin.

[gotbottle]

That just makes the color in her face warm a few more degrees; there's a wide-eyed instant of surprise before she starts laughing again, a little flustered.

"I-- thank you. That's kind of you to say."

[toooldforlosing]

He smiles and drinks a bit more. "Not to sound too much like a cop," he adds, after a moment, "but you got someone to make sure you get home okay?"

[gotbottle]

...She'd been planning to just wing that portion of the evening. Look, it wouldn't be her first time navigating a train ride home while not fully sober. But he seems concerned so she decides not to admit to that.

"No." She shakes her head with a sad little smile. "I figured maybe I'd just wait it out--cut myself off a while before I plan on heading out. Or if worse came to worse, hike up the hill to the inn and get a room for the night."

[toooldforlosing]

"I'm sure you can take care of yourself and all. Just, well." He leans back a little. "What with people disappearing and all... if you want me to see you home, just ask, alright?"

[gotbottle]

Her gaze drops and her expression softens into a touched smile. She's usually so fast to take care of everyone else around her, it's rare someone else gets the chance to offer.

"Thank you. I really appreciate that. It's not far, a straight shot on the train, but if I decide I can't do it on my own I promise I'll let you know."

[toooldforlosing]

"You think I'm ridiculous," he said, lightly. "But I had to offer."

[gotbottle]

Rachel sat up straighter on her stool, letting her hand drop so it rested on the bar. "That's the last thing I think of you," she countered, still smiling, still warm, but there was perhaps a tiny bit of actual vehemence behind her words this time, "and, honestly, if it wasn't making you go so far out of your way when you could just walk home from here, I'd take you up on that offer even if I didn't actually need it, just to have more of your company."

God bless the tipsy, for sometimes they don't realize they've lost the filter between their brains and their mouths.

[toooldforlosing]

He smiles at that, though he does realize he should probably say something about Winona. (Now. Ever?) Just so things are clear.

Instead, though, he says, "Well, I ain't got so many friends here I want to be careless with 'em, that's all."

[gotbottle]

She nods, reaching for her glass. "That's thoughtful of you. And I appreciate that. Thank you."

[toooldforlosing]

"You're very welcome."

He glances around the room. "Quite the assorted crowd that came."

[gotbottle]

"Yeah, it is."

And she swore she wasn't going to talk shop tonight, but she can't leave this much alone, at least: "...they can't all be from our cohort. Haven't you noticed? The people I know, from ours? They're a younger group."

[toooldforlosing]

Raylan nods. "Yeah. No true kids, though. Haven't noticed anyone really ill, either, 'cept those affected by the ants. All people who could work."

[gotbottle]

She thinks that over for a moment. "Yeah. Like, there's a few real young adults, but everyone's grown. It's a handy work force they have growing here."

[toooldforlosing]

"Isn't it just. And I notice we can all communicate too, no matter where we're from."

[gotbottle]

"...You're right." She hadn't thought of that. "It can't just be the CiD's translating, either, because look." She gestures at the people surrounding them. "Do you see anyone who looks like they're having any trouble in person?"

[toooldforlosing]

He nods. "Yeah. Even in the marketplace; I'll hear a smattering of a language I don't know here and there, but I've never really found anyone who doesn't speak English at least conversationally."

[gotbottle]

"Which we can't all be doing," she notes, sipping from her glass. "So, like. Either the city's making everyone speak English... or it's making us all hear the language we're most fluent in. That's maybe a question to put to the cohort sometime--what language do they all think we're speaking?"

[toooldforlosing]

"Might be worthwhile," he agreed. "If nothing else just so we can understand a bit more what we're dealing with."

[gotbottle]

Rachel nods. "I can put it to the cohort next time I check on everybody," she offers. "Take a poll or whatever. Because it'd be helpful to know how they're doing it. We'd at least have a clue if we find out what other people are hearing, right? If they're just making everyone speak the same language, that's a smaller-scale thing, requiring less maintenance. Like, they tweak something in your head when you arrive."

She makes a face--that wasn't a pleasant thought. "But, if they're doing something to influence what you're hearing, translating for you on the fly? That takes a lot more power, and a lot more attention. Which means there's a lot going on we aren't seeing."