(Untitled)

[blowupthefloats]

Tonight's Specials
Star Burst
Stardust
Starseeker
Strawberry Starburst

John Munch is standing behind the bar, he's exchanged his jacket and sidearm for a bartender's apron, and he's ready and waiting to take your orders, Milliways.

Happy Hour is go!

Comments

[i_spoiled_it]

A girl of sixteen or so swings down out of the rafters as if it's perfectly normal (it probably is at Milliways) to lean on the Bar, eyeing the specials thoughtfully.

"What's a Starseeker?"

[blowupthefloats]

It's certainly normal enough for Munch to not do a double-take at it anymore.

"Orange juice and grenadine with light rum and tonic water," he answers. He arches an eyebrow when he sees how young she appears.

[i_spoiled_it]

"Without the rum," Steph asks, beaming, and offers her hand across the bar. "Hi, I'm Steph."

[blowupthefloats]

He nods, accepting the offered handshake before releasing her hand to fix her drink. "John Munch."

[i_spoiled_it]

"Talkative type?" Steph asks, grinning brightly. It doesn't seem to bother her that he's apparently not. "You kind of remind me of someone."

Batman.

[blowupthefloats]

"Depends on the subject matter." Seriously; get him started on conspiracy theories, Big Brother or JFK and you won't be able to get him to shut up. "Do I want to know who this lucky person is?"

[i_spoiled_it]

Steph grins, perched comfortably on her bar stool. "Probably not. It's not very flattering. Or maybe it is, I don't know - it's been years since I've seen him."

[blowupthefloats]

He chuckles, setting the non-alcoholic Starseeker in front of her. "There you are, Miss Steph. One Starseeker. Anything else I can get you?"

[i_spoiled_it]

Steph eyes the bottles on the back of the bar, but shakes her head. "No, I'm on duty this evening. I think. I should probably check the rosters."

[blowupthefloats]

"On duty?" he echoes, eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise. "You work security here?"

[i_spoiled_it]

Steph nods brightly, ponytail swinging. She does not look particularly terrifying or bouncer-like, although in the light, there isn't an inch of her skin that doesn't have winding, vicious, faded scars traced across it.

"I haven't been around for a while," she explains, waving a hand. "Milliways, you know."

Apparently this is an explanation.

"But yep!"

[blowupthefloats]

Indeed, in this place it's probably the only explanation needed.

Munch notices the scars, but wisely says nothing. Instead he asks, "How long have you been on staff here?"

[i_spoiled_it]

"Ummm." She sips her drink, thoughtfully, counting back in her head. "... four years? Four and a half? I think. Yeah, it must be about four now, not counting the time I spent outta the bar."

[blowupthefloats]

"Wow, that's not bad." Especially if Stephanie's as young as Munch thinks she is. "How'd you get started in Security here, anyway?"

[i_spoiled_it]

"I think they just ran out of people," Steph says, shrugging - and grins a little. She's not very good at modest. "Well, and I had friends, and I'm dead, so I wasn't exactly going to be going anywhere, you know? And they needed someone they could rely on, I guess."

[blowupthefloats]

Munch chuckles a little, although he's caught a little off-guard by her admittance that she's, well, deceased. In fact he's not sure what surprises him more: the fact that she's dead, or that she's so casual about it. But then again, she's obviously had enough time to get used to the fact...

"Well, it sounds like you enjoy it," he remarks. He's seen regular cops, both in Baltimore and Manhattan, who have burnt out in less time than she's been on the Security force here.