A star chart of any galaxy is truly a beautiful thing to behold. All those stars and planets aligned in their place, showing where all the life is in the universe.
hullo mrs Sherinhum im ok i found my flat butt its not tha 1 fromm home. no brothors!!
why waz you not at the dinner? I got a berger.
[The translation from eight-year-old-on-the-phone to adult is simple: hi. She found her flat. And she is alone. And why weren't you at the dinner, she had a burger to eat.]
It's a slow night at the Deer, as Nancy'd begun to calling it for short. Slow nights, the middle of the week, that meant she had more time to do things like inventory and orders, payroll, all the boring things that no one tells you you have to do when you open up a pub. Even when you take one over. At least there was a steady supply of booze in the proper English pub.
With music running through the speakers low in the background, Nancy'd spread some papers out over a corner of the bar. A few notebooks, bills, and a worn copy of the Twelfth Night that came out alongside a planner. Who ever thought she'd be this organized? Honestly, not her.
But Deerington was good for things like that. Let her really carve her own way without anyone influencing her. Fagin was dead, Bill wasn't here, there was no Mother of Witches she needed to be on guard against. Sure, lots of magic, and an unfamiliar magic at that, but she could take it all in stride.
She hoped.
The bell at the door chimes and she looks up from the bar to acknowledge her new guest. "Hey, welcome in. Let me know if you fancy anything, menu's at the bar."
Familiar faces would were a comfort for Barry back home, where things made as much sense as they were every going to. Here, the people he'd come to know came and went on the drop of a hat. He always had his guard because he never knew what to expect. Usually he drinks at The Hair of the Dog, but tonight for a change of pace after insomnia set in he crawled out of his house and went somewhere new. It's easier canvas the area that way, and sight seeing just wasn't a reality of Deerington.
"Hey," Barry's not really sure what he's expecting but this wasn't it. The place is quiet, with low lights that weren't offensive to the eyes. It's the kind of environment a person could escape in. "Just a beer." Nothing special, he didn't need food because he'd already had half a sandwich before leaving. His appetite wasn't what it used to be.
"Sure thing." She closes her books, hiding numbers and details from prying eyes. With a few quick steps, she crosses over toward where Barry stands. She grabs a pint glass, going to fill it automatically before she pauses.
"Pint, yeah? Or d'you want a bottle?" She had a few. "I've got some good ones on tap. I can recommend a great lager. Unless you're one of those craft beer chaps- you're not one of them, are you?" She did have some craft nonsense, if that's what he wanted.
The way she hides the books gives him a moments pause on his way to settling in. It's so weird how habit plays such a minor role in this place, nobody would benefit from stealing from somebody here. Money didn't have the same effect and it definitely didn't make someone superior, not in Deerington.
Barry puts his forearms down on the counter, he doesn't care what it is - as long as it's a beer. When she rattles off the options his lips twist up in confusion. When did everything get unnecessarily complicated. Seriously, even beer???
"Um, just get me whatever you think is the best." Not like the typical shit was around in 1950s Nightmare town anyway. He'd had the cheap stuff, the overpriced stuff. As long as it did the trick, he didn't give a shit.
It is old habit. Nancy grew up with nothing to her name, and had only in recent years had any idea what it was like to have money to spend. Severing ties with her father figure and dating men that were over a hundred years older than her helped. Besides, it was just good manners.
"That I can do," she tells him. She picks up a pint glass and places it under the tap. A wave of her hand and the lever moves, allowing the beer to come pouring into his glass. A few moments later and the lever moves on it's own again to stop, and Nancy slides the glass toward him.
"That's a good porter, let me know if you hate it." She pauses, and glances at the door. "For a weird nightmare town, it's outstanding what you can get in."
While waiting for the beer, Barry drums his knuckles on the surface of the counter gently. There's always an undercurrent of anxiousness around him, and that hasn't changed even in the midst of what he's gone through as a sleeper. Fidgeting keeps him aware of his surroundings, and he clocks the different exits and the atmosphere simultaneously.
"Thanks. You can keep a tab open for me. Under Barry." He'd pay, he was nothing if not punctual and his tendency to follow through got the better of him often. "Yeah, you think it's because there's so many different people different places? Like whatever keeps this town in check is trying to make it hospitable?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misfire text; un: darkness
text; un:whiskeyginger
Who is this?
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No, you haven't. I think I'd remember someone with a name like yours.
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[He's spooky looking, okay?]
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Are you one of the mutants?
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What planet are you from?
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audio; un: ASolomons
audio, un: whiskeyginger
I suppose. I've been carrying on as usual.
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Where do you think he's gone off to? Eh? How does that work here? Has he gone home?
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Until then, I guess I've been supervising the place.
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You're always welcome in, y'know, Mr. Solomons. I like your company and I'll still slip you a free drink.
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Sure. All the pretzels you can eat.
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Stop in whenever you'd like.
( text | un: mrs.s )
( since she'd ended up a teenager herself for a while and hadn't been able to hold up her end of the deal )
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im ok i found my flat butt its not tha 1 fromm home.
no brothors!!
why waz you not at the dinner? I got a berger.
[The translation from eight-year-old-on-the-phone to adult is simple: hi. She found her flat. And she is alone. And why weren't you at the dinner, she had a burger to eat.]
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( for longer than she'd expected )
But I can meet you there again. With a milkshake.
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For hitactor
With music running through the speakers low in the background, Nancy'd spread some papers out over a corner of the bar. A few notebooks, bills, and a worn copy of the Twelfth Night that came out alongside a planner. Who ever thought she'd be this organized? Honestly, not her.
But Deerington was good for things like that. Let her really carve her own way without anyone influencing her. Fagin was dead, Bill wasn't here, there was no Mother of Witches she needed to be on guard against. Sure, lots of magic, and an unfamiliar magic at that, but she could take it all in stride.
She hoped.
The bell at the door chimes and she looks up from the bar to acknowledge her new guest. "Hey, welcome in. Let me know if you fancy anything, menu's at the bar."
no subject
"Hey," Barry's not really sure what he's expecting but this wasn't it. The place is quiet, with low lights that weren't offensive to the eyes. It's the kind of environment a person could escape in. "Just a beer." Nothing special, he didn't need food because he'd already had half a sandwich before leaving. His appetite wasn't what it used to be.
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"Pint, yeah? Or d'you want a bottle?" She had a few. "I've got some good ones on tap. I can recommend a great lager. Unless you're one of those craft beer chaps- you're not one of them, are you?" She did have some craft nonsense, if that's what he wanted.
no subject
Barry puts his forearms down on the counter, he doesn't care what it is - as long as it's a beer. When she rattles off the options his lips twist up in confusion. When did everything get unnecessarily complicated. Seriously, even beer???
"Um, just get me whatever you think is the best." Not like the typical shit was around in 1950s Nightmare town anyway. He'd had the cheap stuff, the overpriced stuff. As long as it did the trick, he didn't give a shit.
no subject
"That I can do," she tells him. She picks up a pint glass and places it under the tap. A wave of her hand and the lever moves, allowing the beer to come pouring into his glass. A few moments later and the lever moves on it's own again to stop, and Nancy slides the glass toward him.
"That's a good porter, let me know if you hate it." She pauses, and glances at the door. "For a weird nightmare town, it's outstanding what you can get in."
no subject
"Thanks. You can keep a tab open for me. Under Barry." He'd pay, he was nothing if not punctual and his tendency to follow through got the better of him often. "Yeah, you think it's because there's so many different people different places? Like whatever keeps this town in check is trying to make it hospitable?"