Happy Hour!

[john_not_ronald]

It hasn't been particularly long since John found himself in Milliways last. Only a month or so, but much has happened, and his head is still rather buzzing with it. Wendigo and Shadow-Born, and Jack losing his shadow, and seeing a boy-king claim his heritage, and Jack's fall and redemption

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[gorgonfondness]

The mun can't resist coming to Happy Hour due to out of character reasons involving Dragon's Breath.

Mia can't resist because it'll be the easiest blueberry pie she ever got.

"I have enough stories to earn a million pies, I'm sure, but let me see what I can narrow down for tonight," she says as she sits down. "Well, there is the first time I saw the rain. My husband had woken up from a nightmare and I suggested to him that we walk in the garden and look for fairies to take his mind off of things. I sang to him in my home's old language under the light of the Blue Star. And then, as we were sitting by the stone pool and the flowers, it started to rain. My city had never seen natural rain before that night, so we stayed out there in it, dancing in our nightclothes. It was one of the most beautiful nights of my life."

[john_not_ronald]

John smiles as he listens to her story, and happily dishes up a slice of pie, sliding it across the bar to her with a fork.

"That is a beautiful story, Miss, and well worth the price of a pie."

[gorgonfondness]

"Thank you very much," she says, taking the fork and eating a bite or two of pie before asking, "Say, are any of your specials non-alcoholic? If not, I'd like a glass of milk to go with this, please."

[john_not_ronald]

"They aren't, but I'm sure I can rustle up a glass of milk from somewhere."

He finds a bottle of milk in the refrigerator and pours a generous measure into a glass for her.

[takiena_called]

Finn is sitting at the Bar, elbows resting on its surface, squinting at the sign.

"They...don't make that with real dragon blood, do they?"

[OOC: this thread might have to be short, as I am not going to be here friday afternoon-sunday afternoon, unless eventual slowtime is ok?]

[john_not_ronald]

"They do not," John assures him with a smile. "Though I dare say you're too young for it either way."

[ooc: Slowtime is just fine. :)]

[takiena_called]

"Probably," Finn agrees, amiably. "Um, do you know how to make milkshakes?"

He's a little distracted, slowly making his way through the rest of the sign (he's a slow reader). It's longer than usual!

[john_not_ronald]

John thinks for a moment. "I...I don't believe I do, sorry." It's still a rather specialized skill in his time. "I can do just regular milk, if you like."

[a1enzo]

[[OOC: I'm an East Coaster and getting a bit tired, but I wanted to hold a place, if that's okay!]]

Oooh. Pie.

"Do you have any digital pie? Otherwise I'll have to take it upstairs and convert it."

Not that he's unwilling to do that if necessary. 'Cause, pie.

[john_not_ronald]

[ooc: That's just fine. :)]

"I...er...I don't think..." He frowns in confusion. "Digital?"

[a1enzo]

Sigh. Sounds like he doesn't even know the word in the first place.

"Short version, I'm not made of matter so I can't eat it. It's gotta be made of electricity."

[john_not_ronald]

He doesn't at all.

"You eat...electricity?"

He's still getting used to the strangeness in Milliways. It's a different sort than he's used to.

[bigblacknose]

A beagle wearing a flight helmet of a vintage with which John may be familiar takes note of the menu and orders an Army John. Without actually speaking, somehow.

A story of love, he wonders? For a slice of blueberry pie, that could probably be managed...

[john_not_ronald]

John boggles.

And laughs.

And...fixes the dog his drink.

"There you are. Anything for a fellow serviceman."

There are still very few Americans fighting in John's time, but he's familiar enough with the uniform.

[bigblacknose]

American yes, but he actually signed on with the Royal Naval Air Service before his country got around to formally entering the war.

Major Snoopy D. Hill, early spring of 1917, based out of some little French village on the Western Front whose name he can never get straight, pleased to meet you.

[john_not_ronald]

"Lieutenant John Tolkien," he answers, still not sure how this communication thing is working. "Late spring of 1917, currently in Staffordshire on medical leave. Pleased to meet you as well, sir."