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.

[bythatmuch]

Max's eyes narrow. It's not a threatening look he's giving this guy, it's a curious one - he's got a face that Max is certain he's seen before, though given his current mental state, he can't pinpoint where he's seen it. Or when.

He knows he's seen it before, though.

It's enough to drag his mind away from his work, if only for a few moments.

[notajanitor]

Is the guy seriously giving him that look over coffee? He openly gives him a weirded-out glance and looks away for a moment. When he looks back he's sure the guy is really giving him a look.

"See something you like, pal?"

[bythatmuch]

"Um. No. You just have one of those faces, I guess."

Beat.

"Sorry, I'm tired. My name's Max," he says, offering a hand. Might as well try to start this conversation over with civility, right? "Maxwell Smart."

[notajanitor]

He could honestly say he's never heard that one before.

Roger studies the hand for a moment before giving it a firm shake. "Roger Linus."

[bythatmuch]

Oh.

Well, now Max knows where he knows this guy from, at least.

... and the look Roger's getting from the spy is no longer curious.

Max is surprised, too, at the white hot flash of anger that he feels - but somehow, he can't shake the notion that Roger is to blame for everything.

He should leave. He should just get up and forget about the coffee and getting work done before crashing in bed.

He should.

But he's not moving.

[notajanitor]

He releases Max's hand and expects him to be on his way...his coffee is already here. The expression on the other's face has changed to something stoic and cold. His eyes shift uneasily for a minute before he speaks up.

"Well, nice meeting you. Sorry about the coffee thing. Just tryin' to help."

[bythatmuch]

In the time it's taken Roger to speak, Max has taken a mental Chill Pill.

The angry look leaves and is replaced with a much calmer, slightly more amicable one.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks."

Roger's voice has the 'about to end this conversation' tone to it, and Max is wondering whether or not he should try to stick around for a bit of conversation. It's his spy instinct, really, that's telling him to stay and Ask Questions, but if Roger's not up to it...

Eh, it's worth a shot.

"Have you been here before?" he asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

[notajanitor]

By the time the second beer arrives Max is asking questions again. The coldness in his face from just dropping his name made him hesitate...but maybe he could even get some answers out of this Max guy.

"Depends on where here is," he shrugs his shoulders lightly, "Thought this was just where people ended up when they..." he pauses at the risk of sounding stupid. Say this guy wasn't dead. He laughs briefly, "No. Don't think I've ever been here."

[bythatmuch]

"It's a bar at the end of the Universe, and yeah, people do end up here - "

Saying 'after they die' would be giving a little too much away.

" - often. All sorts of people and things pass through this place."

[notajanitor]

At first he furrows his brow like he doesn't believe him. "You think it'd be more crowded." Just an observation...but considering the place involved the whole universe...

Then he thinks about asking what he meant by things but that can wait.

"Alright, so how'd you get here then?"

[bythatmuch]

"First time? I was on my way to work, and instead of the door opening to my office, it opened to this place."

[notajanitor]

The folder's on the counter helped the story along.

"Looks like you got back eventually. Sounds a hell of lot less complicated than dying and showing up here."

Couldn't be that shocking for him considering he was talking about a bar at the end of the universe and things. Truthfully it feels a little more realistic and real now that he can get that off his chest.