(Untitled)

[fathers_cleric]

Here is a face that the bar has not seen in a long time. A very long time.

"-Robbie, I need you to-"

Preston frowns as the door opens, not to his bathroom but to...a bar.

The bar.

It all comes flooding back and Preston steps in before closing the door behind him.

Thank Father.

He collapses into a chair, mentally thanking the universe.

Comments

[ninja_mountie]

Some of the people here've seen him before, and some of them haven't. The fellow at the next table falls into the latter category. Even sitting down, he's... well, he's small. You could describe him as bantam-sized and probably get away with it. His hair is the color of burnished silver; his eyes are the same striking hue, if you look close enough.

He might be a bit more noticeable if he were in his red tunic just now, but he's not. That'll come later, when he heads out for the evening. For now he watches the new arrival with some interest, hands around a cup of tea so small it would not be out of place in a girl's playset.

[fathers_cleric]

John's head is slumped against the table, hands on his sides.

To the untrained eye, he might look asleep, but he's just getting reaquainted. After a moment, his head rises and he heads over to the bar proper, his face bright, "-Bar?"

The bar says nothing.

"...Thank you. I really needed this."

Bar provides him with a cup of tea from a smooth ceramic set with little chinese characters on the side reading "Peace" and Relaxation.

[ninja_mountie]

The Chinese characters get an interested look. It's been a while since he's seen anything like those; it takes him a while to remember what either of them say. Weng Hao wasn't an academic sort of teacher, after all.

"You look like it's been a long day on a bad road, friend," he observes quietly.

[fathers_cleric]

Umm. Tea. Sorry, he can't hear you, he's pulling an old uncle from an elemental universe.

Preston sets the cup down carefully, "You could say that." Too many new faces! He does an internal doubletake before smiling softly, "...A long life is more like it."

[ninja_mountie]

He smiles, a little; the wrinkles deepen around his eyes. He's a leathery little thing, to be sure. "Sounds like some of the fellas who I see in the north country," he says, the whang of the Wyoming cattle range strong in his accent. "Though usually they've left the old one behind."

[fathers_cleric]

Now, now preston stares.

An intriguing little fellow to be sure. His first thought is "Father" Because of something in his demeanor-

No. There's a pre-librian word for this. And he saw them in Xylyx. Grandfather. People who lived to be older ages. Respected for their wisdom.

Preston-has no accent. Woe!

"...North Country?" Pause, "...Where are you from?"

[ninja_mountie]

"Born in Hulett, Wyoming," says the little fellow, making a gesture that speaks of habitual hat-tipping. "Changed my mind about that some years back 'n headed up north instead. These days it's Yellowknife, in the North-West Territory."

[fathers_cleric]

This means nothing to Preston.

"-Wyoming was in...the midwest of the United States?" His tone doesn't betray any hint of what happened in his world. The midwest is just gone.

[ninja_mountie]

He blinks a little bit at that.

"'Was'?" he echoes. "Ain't it still? I haven't set foot south of the border in years, but..."

[fathers_cleric]

Crud.

"It-"

Let's take this slow, "What year are you from?"

[ninja_mountie]

Oh, it's going to be one of those. All right.

"Nineteen ought-five."

That's all he says, but he's already starting to wish he'd read more than just that one book by Mr. Verne. Maybe one day he'll send off to Vancouver for a copy of something by that Wells fella. Not like he does that much else with his spending money.

[fathers_cleric]

Preston lowers his head, "I was born in the next millennium. It's 2563 for me."

[ninja_mountie]

"Gotcha," says the little man. "Like that Kirk jasper. Said there weren't any ranches on Earth any more, not like there used to be- and that there were seventy-five whole worlds out there with people on 'em. Not just Mars and Venus and-" He waves a hand vaguely; he can't remember too many other planets. "-Jupiter?"

[fathers_cleric]

Preston has not met this "Kirk" fellow. He makes a mental note to seek him out, "....We don't live on other planets, our world is less..."

How to put it delicately?

"....organized."

[ninja_mountie]

He smiles, then, just a little. "Nothin' wrong with bein' less organized," he says. "I kinda get the feelin' my own little piece of time isn't much organized next to everyone else's."

[fathers_cleric]

Preston smiles, but it's one of those sick and bitter smiles.

The kind that people who don't know what else to do offer.

"....What timeperiod are you from?"