(Untitled)

[roadhouse_ellen]

Ellen Harvelle doesn't know her bar like the back of her hand. As folks like to point out sometimes, who goes around staring at the back of their hand like they're out to memorize it? What use'll that ever be

Comments

[didntseeit]

"Welcome to Milliways," comments a woman at the Bar. Thirty, maybe. Hispanic with a mostly American accent, and there is a look there that hunters, con-men and cops get - watchful between the charm.

[roadhouse_ellen]

Watchful, she's used to seeing. Doesn't put her at any kind of ease.

Pretty much the opposite, really: you watch if you've got reason to watch.

Ellen takes her hand off of the door -- but doesn't move forward -- and rests it on her hip. "I'm sorry," she says. (She's not.) "Welcome to where?"

[didntseeit]

"Milliways. It's a Bar built into a loop of time and space. Has a nasty habit of popping up when you least expect it."

[roadhouse_ellen]

"You mind explaining to me how the hell it ended up in the back of my own bar?"

This is levelly said. Might look similar to calm, but it definitely isn't the same.

She keeps her own set of protections around the Roadhouse that've got nothing to do with locks on the doors, and she always keeps them tight.

[didntseeit]

She leans back, elbows on the Bar and watching her.

"I haven't the fainsest idea." Her voice is just as level. "First time it appeared for me, I was walking into a plaza in the middle of Culiacan. Second time, my cousin's office. Today, my house. Magic's the common explanation, but no one knows. You open a door, and you can find yourself here."

[roadhouse_ellen]

"Wouldn't be magic." And that's clipped.

Shouldn't be magic, anyway.

[didntseeit]

A crooked smile.

"Fucked up physics, then."

[roadhouse_ellen]

Ellen snorts, eyes narrowing further as she says, "And you expect that to make more sense than the magic explanation?"

Her hand shifts, very slightly, going from her hip to the side of the small of her back.

"Maybe you ought to tell me who you are while you're at it."

[didntseeit]

"This place makes no sense. I don't intend to make any for its sake. I'm Ajedrez. And you, senora?"

[roadhouse_ellen]

There's always some kind of sense to be found, even in what ought to be impossible. Most things have got their rules, somewhere, and the quicker you find them, the quicker they stop being impossible and you can start doing something about it.

But the look Ellen's fixing on Ajedrez is more considering now. Thoughtful.

"All right. I'm Ellen." Taking several steps away from the door (and keeping her hand right where it is at her back), she continues, "If you're not planning to go and make sense out of what's in here, you wanna at least tell me what is around?"

[didntseeit]

Ajedrez, all too aware of where Ellen's hand is, doesn't look away.

"Like I said, a Bar. She is sentient, and it pays to be nice to the lady. A Scottish lake aside for God knows why," Ajedrez likes living on the Mexican coast, thank you very much, "and rooms upstairs. Three rules - no sex downstairs, no violence, and no business. First drink's free, after that you either pay or you get a tab."

Pause, to let her process that.

[roadhouse_ellen]

After a pause of her own, Ellen nods.

"That's generous of them," she remarks, a little dryly.

Hell of a lot more generous than her own policy of no money, no drinks.

[didntseeit]

"Weeeeeeeeell the tab's more for people who can't leave, and so can't pay unless they get a job. The door sometimes vanishes, and until it appears, you're Bound."

[roadhouse_ellen]

Oh, that is the wrong thing to say. Her jaw sets.

"Like a trap, you mean."

[didntseeit]

"It saved my life, being Bound. I'd hardly call it a trap. Turn around. If you see the door, you're fine."

[roadhouse_ellen]

Like hell is she turning around.

There's a mirror above the bar; her gaze shifts upward to that instead, moving through the patrons crisscrossing in front of the wall behind her. When they part just long enough for her to glimpse the door, the look falls back on Ajedrez.

That's about as much relief as Ellen's gonna show.

"Yeah, and how'd that work?"