(Untitled)

[theunsmiling]

Michael makes her way from the front door to a corner booth, tossing her bike helmet onto the seat. She passes the booth, however, and swings by Bar herself

Comments

[52_dropoff]

"Need a hand with that?" Charlie is nursing a tea, reading The Tao of Pooh and not finding it to be useful.

[theunsmiling]

"The coffee?" Michael asks, huffing out a quiet breath as some of her hair -- short and dark and flyaway -- falls into her eyes.

"Or the crossword puzzle?"

[52_dropoff]

"The crossword. I don't think I know anyone who needs help with coffee. And I never touch the stuff." Health nut.

[theunsmiling]

"Some people seem to need to give help to those with coffee. It's an odd affliction, but I guess weirdness is par for the course. With people, I mean."

She looks up at that, green eyes too alert for her casual posture.

"Do you like crosswords?"

[52_dropoff]

Interesting eyes. Greener than most green eyes. Or so it seems. Maybe it's the light.

"Now and then. I used to do them in my days out there. I don't see them that much here. No regular delivery of the Times or the Daily Planet."

[theunsmiling]

Light is often more complicated than some would think. Even without the physics.

"Have you ever tried asking the bar? She'll get you just about anything under the sun or on God's green earth -- or off it, too. At least as far as I've been able to tell."

[52_dropoff]

"I don't know if I want to know that much about what happened after I died. The one time the Bar decided to show me, it was really depressing." Anything involving Lex Luthor tends to be. "Though I could just ask for a crossword."

[theunsmiling]

"You could ask for someone else's newspaper, too -- or one from when you were seven."

One corner of her mouth quirks ever-so-faintly upward.

"Though there's no guarantee, of course, that you'll like that news any better."

Humans are a picky lot. Sometimes.

[52_dropoff]

"At least I know what to expect from when I was seven. And the newspapers were probably better back then. Or at least there were more of them." He doesn't really mourn the end of print. But he does note it.

[theunsmiling]

"Live long enough and almost anything was better 'before'. I'd call it a curse of memory, but we'd all be worse off without it."

The flippant tone is deliberate, if slight.

"Or maybe not. There's something to be said for the oral traditions."

[52_dropoff]

"You sound like you want to be a cynic but can't quite manage it." He can relate. "Can I ask when and where you're from?"

[theunsmiling]

"Cynicism is not in my mandate, more's the pity."

Again there's that slight quirk to one corner of her mouth, there-and-gone.

"Or so I hear tell. Me? I'm from New York. 2007. And you?"

[52_dropoff]

"Mandate?" He's curious now. Which is to be expected. "Same era, more or less, and originally from Hub City but from all over at the end."

[theunsmiling]

"The angelic host is not meant for bitterness -- nor any of its fruits."

The words may seem odd coming from a too-skinny girl in a smart-ass T-shirt, ripped jeans, and 12-hole Docs.

It's the eyes that make it work. Inasmuch as it works.

"Though I will say Hub City is not a location I have heard much of."

[52_dropoff]

"Angelic...another one." And yes, she seems quite unangelic, though less so than the Columbo of the winged set. "I guess you don't have to look like you're supposed to, do you?" Should angels be at all attractive?

"Though I wonder how an angel doesn't know of a city. Unless it really is as hellish as we thought it was."

[theunsmiling]

"All worlds are not one world," she says, and folds up her crossword, setting down her pen at the same time.

"And I always look exactly as I am supposed to in order to better accomplish my work."

It's a personal choice -- well.

Most of the time.

"What were you looking to see?"