ways_back_room | W.E.: Test Drive Prompts

Prompts Welcome for Audrey Parker (Syfy's Haven)!

And maybe threads? (Yes, no, maybe?) Definitely post-first entrance if so!

[Prompt: Fireflies]

"Hello there, what can I get you?" A rugged looking Lawman asks from behind the bar. He's busy polishing glasses but keeping a weather eye out for customers.

"A different job?" Audrey throws back, the hook of a smile only on one part of her mouth. It's been an exhausting day, but actually not that bad of one. Just weird. Incredibly weird. Which just seems to be the norm in Haven since she got there, as crazy as that is.

"Or a dirty martini," she says, leaning forward on an elbow, blonde hair rippling against her cheek and shoudlers with each movement. "I'd be gold for one those, too."

"How about I start with the martini and we can discuss the job once you're more relaxed?" Nolan says with a smile and sets about to make the drink. He does need to refer to the Big Book (tm) for the distinction of a dirty martini vs a typical martini but he makes it quite well regardless.

Setting it before her he smiles expectantly. "My first one."

[OOC: And I'm about to run to a yoga class. Slows?]

[Of course, my dear! <3 Enjoy your class.]

"We could be discussing whether you get to keep your job, then, instead of me or mine," Audrey said a little more wan, even as she was picking up the drink that he'd set down. Pulling it up to her mouth and taking a fortifying drink. That's what off the clock hours were for, right?

"Not bad." There's a nod. She's had so much better and worse. But it was middle-good. "You know," she shot from the hip without any lead-up. "I didn't know there were bartenders working this thing-" there's a gesture toward the bar with her martini glass and her head. "-for drinks, too."

"I'm a volunteer barman today," Nolan replies with a friendly pat to Bar. "Old Gal needs a little rest now and then. Name's Nolan, Joshua Nolan if you want the whole story."

[OOC:And Yoga was canceled so I'm off to swim instead.]

"Audrey Parker." Simple, to the point, with a nod that works as much for his giving as her own.

Holding her drink for a minute, even when she's still looking over her drink at the bar and the barman. Meticulously curious about this place as she is about her new home away from home. "So, you believe she's some kind of she, too?"

Nolan shifts to lean both arms onto the bar before shrugging his shoulders. "I've seen lots of shakto in my life. A sentient bar isn't that weird in comparison. Whether she's magic or tech, that I don't know."

Audrey gets all of that readily enough, except. "Shack-toe?"

The eyebrows though, they are already questioning if the word means what she thinks it does.

Implication is really easy in language, and she's good at figuring out much bigger puzzles than this one.

[OOC: Whoops misspelled the alien word, my bad.]

"Shtako," Nolan repeats. "Sorry, it's an alien word. Pretty much means shit but more of the weird things life throws at you than the biological process. The Votan common tongue can be like German that way."

Edited 2013-06-01 22:39 (UTC)

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A rumpled flyer lands on the bar in front of her, pressed under the palm of one dubiously-ornamented hand.

The second hand holds a drink. (It is smoking. It is not, actually, a hot drink.)

The third one pushes back wild blonde hair from one forehead, clearing the way for one set of eyes to wink lasciviously.

(The other pair is staring contemplatively off into the middle distance. Or, they would be, were they not covered in pitch-black sunglasses.)

Both smiles are dazzling. The flyer says "Guided tours! Sail the Horsehead Nebula! Consult the gurus of Aberjonian IV? Marvel at the ice-planet of Forthinsia! A once in a lifetime experience! (Third trip half off)."

It's possible Zaphod doesn't precisely understand the subtleties of marketing.

"Hey, hey, hey," he says, sloping onto the bar in a jumble of limbs that someone manages to look casually, thoughtlessly, choreographed. "You like a girl who knows where her towel is."

That's.

That's. Uh. Interesting.

Audrey and her martini glass might be staring a little.

Eyebrows pulling toward an obvious crinkle, as she said, "In my bathroom?"

Four eyebrows lift back at her.

"Not great planning for when you decide to run away to see the ends of the universe on a moment's notice," he informs her, sliding gracefully off a bar stool, before regaining his composure.

"Or is that innuendo? I can never tell with Earth girls. You're all so literal."

And unnerving. Audrey wants to add unnerving. That's what. Unerving and creepy. And she hasn't like missed out on the last hour and had like five of these drinks, right? She's not really one for drinking to excess in public. But one has to question oneself when faced with this kind of thing.

Or just blurt out -- "You have two heads."

And an extra arm. Like somehow he hasn't noticed that before now. Smooth.

"I find it's handy to have an extra around."

The shrug he gives, what with the two heads and three arms, is a complicated sort of affair, but he manages it with aplomb and knocks back the rest of his drink.

The set of ears on that head turn blue and start smoking gently -- coincidentally, much like the drink itself.

"What happens if you run afoul of an assassination plot and you only have one head? Well..." He considers, for a moment. "I guess it does give them an extra target."

Okay. Um. That could have been put better. Okay. Uh. At least he doesn't look in the slightest bit offended, even if Audrey's still not sure which of these faces she should be looking at it, or if she should stop looking at him like she can't look away. Except looking away might be just as rude since he did sit down and start talking to her.

And you know? The best answer to all of this is to drink a lot more martini with a flat, uncertain smile. Gulping it down and before she notes the thing his head is doing, and she can't help it. It's out of her mouth really fast and baffled, too. "Is that supposed to be happening? Your head is smoking."

Even though he looks entirely unruffled. Which might be the only reason she isn't panicking. Yet. Sort of.

Someone quietly slides into the next stool, keeping his eyes on the list of specials, without glancing over.

"Abandoning the Gull already, Parker?" Quiet, not exactly angling towards conversational, but he's using more than one word. "Duke not up to the competition?"

He doesn't exactly look too broken up about the idea.

"Duke's missing out," Audrey says, gesturing with her drink, even as she's looking up with a recognizing smile as her partner slides on to the nearby stool.

"We should tell him he needs to work out how to have The Gull appear in random doorways in all sort of buildings." Because it's still crackerjacks, but crazy has been her bag this last few weeks. People with things you can't call anything less than powers our of tv shows and movies back behind them. And this.

"I was headed for groceries, but who am I to argue with a bar telling me I need a drink now instead?"

"Not sure Duke's up for the challenge."

Straight-forward, with a brief incline of his head. A glance slides towards her out the corner of his eye, and a faint shadow appears at one corner of his mouth. "Hard enough he's got to try being a legitimate businessman for the first time in his life."

He's aware of the shady dealings surrounding The Grey Gull: the liquor license that was all too easy to acquire, the specials that appear seemingly out of nowhere, featuring shellfish everyone else is paying out the nose for.

Proof is harder to come by, though. And they've got bigger fish to fry than Duke Crocker and his attempt at aiding the community.

"Seems reasonable."

After all, he's not arguing it, either.

He doesn't really look over, but that's Nathan and Nathan's own little world. Or maybe he's just picking out his drink. Still she turns toward him a little on her stool anyway, spinning it easily, freely. Hand and forearm keeping on the bar so she only turns so far. "The martini's aren't too bad."

And then, because, fine, he can be all quiet. Doesn't mean she can't poke at the things he doesn't offer back. "Where'd you come from this time?"

That's totally business as normal. Being able to figure how far this whole Milliways thing might stretch. How much of the town if might touch. Not that she's seen anyone else from it in here, but she's got it down to wondering if other townfolk might be jetting off here all at the time, too. It's not like Haven doesn't hoard its secret's deep already.

Edited 2013-06-01 19:49 (UTC)

Lanky shoulders lift, and he finally slides a look over them, to find her.

Sitting there on a barstool at the end of the universe, leaning on the bar like she was born to sit right here. Drinking a martini, like it's the only thing she could possibly be doing.

His eyes drop to her glass, consider it, push it away again when he looks back up.

"Shed door."

His shed, his father's shed, a random shed -- he doesn't elaborate. "Bit roomier in here than I expected."

Than the shed. Clearly. "More alcohol, too."

Audrey's not surprised about how he gives as little as possible that isn't not actively avoiding answering the question. Because she couldn't at all be inquiring about him, too. Because even her smile is chiding, because, seriously. Seriously, Nathan? How many sheds are in Haven? She's still not surprised either.

"Maybe 'she' decided you needed to learn how to unwind, too." It's teasing, and a little prodding, even when the reference the the place or the Bar or whatever it is these people call it, is still said with quotations like she's repeating terms that aren't hers.

The same way she been picking up Havenite things, slow and steady. At least in Milliways they hand them to you, unlike in Haven. Where they wait to tell you what you're doing wrong, like where you've got the wrong pastries, but only after never telling you where the right places were in the first place.

Not that being an outsider is anything new. Isn't entirely normal. Isn't more normal than anything else.

Still. The people here fall all over telling her things. Which isn't how it is in Haven, or with anyone from there.

He gives her a long, even look.

And turns back to the bar. "Think I'll just have some coffee."

There's the suggestion of skepticism, but it's not like it needs spelling out loud; if there's a place he's going to go to unwind, it won't be this one.

Audrey is smiling in spite of herself.

In spite of the solid wall of Nathan Wournos. Whether that's his shoulders walking in front of her, or the way he can stare at something on his desk and never give her more than 2-3 words answers without looking up. In spite of the whole bit of his tone, she's questioning whether she's actually hearing or not, just imagining.

She turns back to the bar, considering nudging him with an elbow. But she settles easily, for forgetting that thought entirely. Raising her drink, and saying, amused, angelic, maybe even a little complainingly teasing, before she takes another drink. "We really need to work on your recreational skills."

Edited 2013-06-01 22:26 (UTC)

He waits until his coffee appears, along with a tiny crockery creamer and a bowl of sugar cubes, before he responds.

"I've got hobbies." Informed, while he pulls the mug towards himself, considers the steam rising from it thoughtfully, and decides on the addition of a dollop of milk, stirring it in with more concentration than is really required for fixing a mug of coffee.

He hates burning his tongue. It makes everything taste strange for hours.

It gets blown on, anyway, when he lifts it for a sip, raising mild eyebrows at her over the porcelain.