and so forth

[finaldiscussion]

His investigation continues apace.

Now he is sitting at the bar with a bottle of beer and a contemplative expression. Occasionally, he sips. Between times, he studies the bottle-the typesetting on the label, the play of light through the glass.

Comments

[antonyplz]

Antony Culpepper had taken his false leg off and was going to bed, thank you very much.

But let's describe his entrance for Sherlock Holmes' benefit. A man walks into the bar. The crutches under his armpits mark him as, besides the obvious, a man of the post-WW2 western world in their style. His hair is cut neat and short, and he is clean-shaven. His feet are slippered, and the slippers in good repair. His dressing-gown is silk, Chinese, with a floral pattern, and was not tailored by any manufacturer Strat will be familiar with. It suggests several things: that he has enough money to afford silk dressing-gowns; that he is from an age when it was in fashion for men to wear such things, or he doesn't care much about fashion; and that he was intending on going to sleep.

When he first steps in, there's a tired slump to his shoulders, but his back is straight. It's a sleepy sort of posture, not a beaten-down one. And it ends when he sees where he's ended up: his whole body goes rigid with surprise.

His face is thin, but as a result of genetics rather than underfeeding. In fact, he looks well-fed and healthy, beyond his missing left leg: this guy doesn't go hungry at night. His neat fingernails suggest someone relatively affluent, but his hands aren't completely soft and work-shy. He grips the crutches firmly, not afraid that he'll lose his grip but determined that he won't. The swift, efficient way he scans the bar still has shades of a man who once lived or died depending on how quickly he could scope out a situation.

His eyes are very wide, very white; his mouth opens involuntarily. It's Milliways; you don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to work out what that means.

[finaldiscussion]

Interesting.

The time period checks out. The dressing gown is highly suggestive. The way he examines the room is highly promising and the way he reacts can be dealt with.

Stratocaster picks up his beer and crosses the room.

[antonyplz]

One thing Antony's thinking is that if he stayed sane through the trenches only to go mad when everything's going right for him? Then that is a huge miscarriage of justice.

But he doesn't stand there playing a tiny violin. Here, there's someone approaching.

"Excuse me, sir!"

He hails Strat in an English accent - Cambridge, educated, but softened at the edges a little, as you might expect of someone who's lived for a few years abroad.

"What's..."

No, that sentence isn't going anywhere. He tries again.

"How... am I here?"

Because... if it's madness then his actions are irrelevant, but if it's reality then his bedroom door has led him somewhere very strange and he's going to have to deal with that. You know. Somehow.

[finaldiscussion]

"Not via hallucination, which you may take as a good turn or a bad one, as you prefer."

Strat's own accent has migrated somewhat north of the nineteenth century and somewhat west of England since he died. More the former than the latter by far.

[antonyplz]

"...A good one, I think. But I asked how I did get here, not how I didn't."

Answers to these burning questions now. Manners in just a moment.

[finaldiscussion]

"Through the door." He nods to it. "Which is an interdimensional portal."

[antonyplz]

Antony hasn't relaxed one bit. But he observes, in a detached kind of way, that he's strangely detached.

"I can't say I've come across one of those before."

[finaldiscussion]

"Nor have most people, but here you are nevertheless."

He shrugs, spreading his hands-one empty, the other holding that beer. Of course, if this man is from Rapture, he will probably not yet realize that an artifact of his own world is something of a rarity here.

[antonyplz]

Antony sees the beer's label, recognises it and does not think it important; the subtle sequence of expressions which gives these facts away would probably be easily missable to anyone who isn't Sherlock Holmes.

"It works in both directions, I hope."

He nods to Strat, then begins the slightly laboured process of turning around. Forgive him, but hanging around in strange bars reached by even stranger means when he's tired and dressed for bed is not his idea of a good time.

[finaldiscussion]

"Most of the time, yes."

Which will be either puzzling or ominous, depending whether or not Antony can get the door open.

[antonyplz]

He can. Beyond is a sumptuous sort of study, crammed with books and papers that have been neatly tidied away, all dimmed for night-time. A broad bay-style window looks out over a city of skyscrapers and huge bright advertisements for drinks, foods, entertainment. It's dark enough that not much is visible besides the neon and lit windows, and the headlights of - are those perhaps helicopters? And, picked out by these lights, one or two - flocks of birds? But they don't move like birds.

Strat won't have long to check it out, though. Antony turns to face him, still not sure what the hell's just happened but determined to put as normal as possible an end to it.

"Well... thank you for your help. Goodnight."

He is so going to have trouble sleeping after this.

[finaldiscussion]

"Oh, it was no trouble. Goodnight, sir."

That glimpse-that glimpse is fascinating. It brings a smile to his face.

[antonyplz]

He nods to Strat, and gives the bar a final swift, wary stare before he closes the door behind him.