(no subject)
Enough is enough, thinks Weyland. He is seated at a table with proper line-of-sight to the door, or where the door would be if he had one; its absence is the reason for the icy stares he gives the wall now and then when he glances up from the plans he is sketching out.
(The plans are for a device that, in theory, would summon a door back to his world whether the bar wants to give him one or not. He doesn't know if it would work, and isn't quite desperate enough to try, not yet. But it never hurts to make plans.)
In the meantime, he has discovered that the bar can indeed supply him with that local beer he used to love so long ago, and that helps a bit. He wouldn't mind company, as long as company doesn't mind the chain-smoking.
[tiny tag: Weyland]
(The plans are for a device that, in theory, would summon a door back to his world whether the bar wants to give him one or not. He doesn't know if it would work, and isn't quite desperate enough to try, not yet. But it never hurts to make plans.)
In the meantime, he has discovered that the bar can indeed supply him with that local beer he used to love so long ago, and that helps a bit. He wouldn't mind company, as long as company doesn't mind the chain-smoking.
[tiny tag: Weyland]