(Untitled)

[owendavies]

Owen Davies is dressed for church, in a plain bland grey suit that is well behind the fashion even for 1977, when he enters the bar. He does not look pleased to be there.

[Owen meets new and scary people like Raven, Morgan and Thursday Next. He actually talks to Raven, almost.]

Comments

[thursdayn]

*Thursday Next may be from the 80s, but, then again, her 1980s are very different from what most people's are like.*

Despite the lack of colour, it's a nice outfit.

*Question courtesy of out-of-nowhere.*

[owendavies]

Owen lifts his head in a small nervous jerk. "Thank you." There is a noticeable pause. "Hallo. My name is Owen Davies." He offers his hand to the woman, rather tentatively.

[thursdayn]

*Smiling, she shakes it, entirely aware that sometimes she makes people uncomfortable -- it's a bad habit.*

Mine's Thursday Next. I haven't met you before, I don't think.

[owendavies]

Everyone makes Owen Davies uncomfortable.

Owen's grip is dry and firm, but he ends the handshake hastily. "I do not come here often."

He fumbles for further conversation. "Do you?"

[thursdayn]

Not so much. I think I might start to more, though, seeing as how things are getting more awkward at home. My son likes it here.

*Thursday gestures at a small blonde boy of about 3, sitting in the corner and amusing himself with objects Bar gave him.*

He won't play with the other children at home, and it's hard for me to mind him and work at the same time.

*She covers conversation all by herself.*

Although I've a feeling the door turned into Milliways incidentally, for you? Not a blessing?

[owendavies]

Owen relaxes minutely when he sees Thursday's child. "My son also likes it here. But no, I did not intend to come."

[thursdayn]

*Friday has that relaxing pattern to him -- he's a nice, innocent little boy who plays with things and yet does not break them.

Thursday, were she to play with toys, would probably end up breaking them.*

Son never dragged you, then? Friday often cries to come here. Well ... not literally, as he doesn't talk, but I get his meanings.

Where had you meant to be?

[owendavies]

"My son took me here once." Owen stares at nothing for a moment and then lifts his head again in that nervous jerk.

"Tonight we had just come from church, and I went out to check on the dogs."

[thursdayn]

*Concern crosses Thursday's expression for just a moment, and then she bites her lip.*

Oh, I understand, then. It's a Sunday. Not to be in bars. My brother's a minister.

*Joffy's really an Irreverent, but 'minister' or 'reverend' tend to sound calmer.*

[owendavies]

Owen relaxes further, nodding. Fortunately he is not acquainted with the Irreverent Joffy.

"Yes. Of course even during the week they are not the best of places."

[thursdayn]

*Thursday wouldn't be keen on introducing them, either -- the GSD isn't exactly a universially calming presence. But she can leave that out.*

Most of the time, my three-year-old would not be in a bar. This place, however, has proven quite a nice area for him to grow up.

[owendavies]

Owen tightens his lips in silent disapproval, but says only, "Do you work here, then?"

[thursdayn]

No, I'm the Bellman -- er -- the head of a rather large policing organization, back home.

Nothing to do with Security here, of course, though they do generally handle things the way we like to. Generally.

*Jurisfiction and SpecOps don't have cells. And Milliways doesn't have a Text Sea. Otherwise, Thursday's work resembles.*

It's really better for Friday here than it is out there. His father's not being around anymore, and all.

*Here, she looks a bit sadder, but only for a minute.*

[owendavies]

"I am sorry to hear that," Owen says stiffly.