multiversallogs | I made wine from the lilac tree, put my heart in its recipe

Who: Jules and you
What: Booze! Feelings! Drowning sorrows is classy.
Where: A bar! You can pick what kind of bar if there's something in particular that'd be more ic for your dudes and ladies; Jules is familiarising herself with the city via the wonders of alcohol.
When: Givdi, Veerdi and Sukkadi (Thursday-Saturday) afternoons right through to the little hours. Just let me know~*~*~
Notes: :9 let us make cr and deliciousness! We can just go from any point of their drinking together, too - just do whatever tickles your fancy, really.
Warnings: Feelings, dark thoughts, etc. Possibly language. Possibly some violence, if a bar fight were to break out? Anything crops up, I'll edit it in.

It's been a long week. A long month, two months, however many hours and days and other little bunches of times have all clocked up to however long things have been utterly miserable for. And ever since she got here, Jules has been going on with her masks and her smiles, until this week things started to teeter and fall apart like a rusted-out engine.

She could work with car problems, though. This she didn't know how to work with, and she stares at the bottom of her glass as she swirls the deep red wine around it, accusing, as if it's meant to be telling her something and very thoroughly letting her down.

"I need another drink."

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Sitting at the bar with the remains of a pint, Mitchell is similarly trying to drown his sorrows. Or at least sulk over them vaguely while he wonders whether or not he should ignore another girl making eyes at him from a little way away (how easy would it be to chat her up, go back to her place and-- no, stop it).

When he hears someone nearby him start to speak, he looks over and regards Jules with a mild look. It's good to hear a familiar accent. "Rough week?" He sounds pleasantly Irish and like he's been put through the ringer himself.

"Rough week," she concurs, tipping back the last of her wine. "Rough while, really."

Out of habit, some part of her wants to put a positive spin on it, make it pretty and shiny and like everything is fine. Thankfully (some part of her feels that thankfully is important) the alcohol in her system and the general accumulation of absolute and utter crap that currently defines her life makes her rather eager to disregard that little spark of optimism. Optimism, positivity, all good things felt a bit like stupidity, just at the present moment.

So, she turns to the stranger, gives him a bit of a nod. "You too?" Even as she's speaking, she's gesturing for the barman. "Do you need another?" A moment. "Drink, not rough week."

Mitchell could sympathise, if he knew. Which is why he retorts with, "Yeah, just a bit. I'm new in town."

He's used to keeping up a guard whilst discussing life with (what he assumes to be) humans. When the barman comes over, he looks up, startled at the question. Drink, alcohol. Yes. "Oh. Yeah, another of the same, thanks."

"I'm Mitchell, by the way," he says on returning his attention to Jules.

That wins him just the slightest of smiles. "You, too? It seems like there's a few of us floating around." With a final inspection of her glass to make sure there's nothing left, Jules allows herself a little more of a smile. "I'm not sure what point we really stop being new, to be honest."

Jules considers her glass, then shrugs and asks for a cocktail - "something stupidly colourful and full of fruit" - and the bartender gives her a brief look that certainly seems to ask are you serious? before shrugging and continuing on his way.

"Jules," she replies easily, swivelling her chair to face him a little better. "Now, you sound Irish, but are you from Ireland or somewhere with a similar accent from a world nothing at all like Earth?"

She was getting familiar with this game, oh yes. "Don't feel obligated to specify what Earth, because the variations appear to be countless."

He chuckles at the specifications. They're necessary, but it doesn't make them sound any less ridiculous. But then Baedal is a ridiculous place. "I come from Earth, twenty-first century. Planes, cars, The Simpsons and Jammy Dodgers. The full works."

"And I do come from Ireland," he says, shifting a little bit in his chair. "Although I've lived in Bristol for a large part of my life. How about you?"

"Earth, a while after yours, I think, or a world similar sounding - twenty second century, but sometimes there's debate here and there about what year it really is." A breath, mulling over the specifications. "There used to be planes, there are still are but hardly a person really uses them anymore. Cars, yes, The Simpsons... I've never heard of, Jammy Dodgers I have no idea, but they sound like criminals." This is easier, as well, banter. Jules is taking the easy option with everything at the moment. Almost nonchalant, she shrugs. "Things went a bit pear-shaped, let's say." And yet she's so very casual about it - it's the only kind of world she's known, so there's no reason not to be, but generally her sentimental side and sensitivity make her tiptoe just a bit more cautiously.

"England. Oxford, for a long time, but... after that I moved around. Driving around Europe a fair bit, actually."

Twenty-second century. Mitchell is almost tempted to wonder if they've ditched the planes in favour of hover-somethings, until Jules clarifies on the state of her world. As a result, he explains, "The Simpsons is a cartoon series. It's run for like...twenty years from where I'm from. Sorry, I was trying to think of something to do with pop culture."

He's a vampire, their idea of keeping up with the times is skewed at best. "And Jammy Dodgers are a biscuit. Although a good name for a criminal gang. Kind of retro."

A little smile. "Don't apologise. I'm sure it would have made perfect sense to someone from one of the different Earths." She chuckles, and then her absurd cocktail with different fruit spears sticking out and an umbrella perched on the top arrives, a terrifyingly bright looking creation. "Ah. Perfect."

After only a moment of consideration, she plucks the umbrella from the drink and starts spin it between her fingers.

"It's definitely a catchy name. If I'm ever reduced to a life of crime I'll make sure to keep it in mind."

"You'd be surprised how often the opportunity comes up in life." It's said jokingly because that, at least, is one thing Mitchell hasn't done in his life. ...yet.

Hs own pint is delivered shortly after, and he finishes the remains of the old one in front of him before pushing the glass back in favour of the new. He eyes Jules' concoction with something between a laugh and a smile. "I'll hand it to you, that is a drink with style."

"Really? I'll make sure to keep an eye on my purse, then." She grins a bit, giving Mitchell a look of exaggerated suspicion. "Try not to look so shifty."

Given the juxtaposition of their drinks side by side, Jules can't help but laugh at that before just shrugging casually. "Not everyone can drink this and pull it off, certainly." Grabbing one of the pineapple spears and idly twirling it between her fingers, Jules carries on entirely too serious, "in fact, they can be rather dangerous. Poking your eyes on a vindictive piece of fruit is a nasty business."

I made wine from the lilac tree, put my heart in its recipe

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/crawls out of bed

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