Roger Linus / LOST / Ze bar

[mm_rae]

A bar? Roger likes it already. In the course of his lifetime he has heard many things about the probabilities of what happens to a person once they die. He can't say he ever heard this one before. It's fairly crowded- not overly...just right. He hasn't been to a bar since he left Oregon. Come to think of it he hadn't enjoyed himself since he left

Comments

[bythatmuch]

The Max that stumbles into the bar this evening is jet lagged, just short of sporting a 5 o'clock shadow, and can't get his mind off his mission. He's got so much intel to go over before dawn breaks, and hell, if it was up to him, he'd be out combing the streets right now for signs of KAOS - but Ben's asleep, and he's not stupid enough to go out there on his own. He's almost 100% certain that someone'll be keeping an eye out for him.

So here he is, at the bar with a few file folders, (politely) demanding coffee.

[notajanitor]

The next guy that walks in has dark circles under his eyes. Roger questions the point of being in a bar before returning to the last drops of beer he has left. That's all his business. The way the waiter is overlooking the polite demands for coffee is secretly driving him crazy...but a good drink is the first priority.

"Hey, another beer." After the server has turned around he makes an addition, "And for god's sake, get this guy a coffee." Then he slumps back returning to comfort status.

[bythatmuch]

Huh. A bartender. That's not something Max sees here too often. He gives the 'tender a small, almost apologetic smile when he recieves his coffee. "Thanks."

And then he turns and peers over at the guy with the beer.

"You really didn't need to do that."

Some people just have no patience.

[notajanitor]

He raises his eyebrows and leans up slightly. "You're welcome, buddy." There's a hint of venom in his voice and he shakes his head mostly to himself.

Some people just don't appreciate things.

Vaguely he's reminded of his son.

And that is enough to get him to keep to himself.

[dream_at_sea]

Brizo is!

And as far as she's concerned, drinking does not walk hand-in-hand in modesty.

The urge to go, 'Chug, chug, chug, chug!' : rising.

[notajanitor]

Is she watching him? He can't tell...really he almost wants to go on ignoring her. Then again he does want to get readjusted to the social world. In his own way, of course.

"Can I help you?" he asks evenly, making sure his drink is in his hand but resting on the bar.

[dream_at_sea]

"I think the last time I saw anyone downin' that much was in a port in Barbados."

A century or so ago.

Then, in a semi-helpful tone of voice:

"They've got some Jack Daniels around here, vintage somewhere between 1914 and 1920. Prometheus and Epimetheus brought it in."

[notajanitor]

He couldn't tell if it's a smart ass comment or if the woman really was so well-traveled. "Lots of practice," he even allows himself a slight smile.

Especially if she's offering advice about Jack Daniels.

"Prome-who and Epimethe-what?" He squints slightly drawn back to the suppressed question of where the hell am I?.

[onhisbehalf]

Christian once knew too well the need to have alcohol without modesty.

That was a long time ago.

Still, he spares Roger the judgmental and sympathetic looks, and merely grins, knowingly, at him.

"Thirsty?"

[notajanitor]

A little surprised by the sudden approach Roger turns to the source. He's an older guy with a smug sort of look on his face. Educated is really the first word that comes to his mind. Somehow he looks a little familiar. It's probably just "one of those faces" as they say.

"Yeah," he sounds half amused. "Been a long time since I drank something this good."

[onhisbehalf]

"Gave it up, myself. Water's a lot better for you. My name is Christian, by the way." He extends a hand.

[notajanitor]

"Sometimes water just doesn't cut it," he muses. "Roger," he shakes the other man's hand after he sets down his beer.

"If you don't mind my asking, why hang out in a bar if you gave up drinking?"