RP: This isn't meant to make sense
There's a Villiers in a place that strangely resembles Milliways. But not. Really not. It's far too meta-esque.
And plus, the Villiers isn't the one that belongs in Milliways. No, it's one that's been living in a post-Apocalyptic USA, which leaves him in slightly more worn and ragged clothing than the suit would normally suggest.
And he's bored.
And plus, the Villiers isn't the one that belongs in Milliways. No, it's one that's been living in a post-Apocalyptic USA, which leaves him in slightly more worn and ragged clothing than the suit would normally suggest.
And he's bored.
And he is joined by a possibly not so familiar sight. Either way, Le Chiffre's there anyway.
"Dare I even ask why you're wearing that?"
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It's a conditioned response to whip out his gun. Which is trained on Le Chiffre immediately.
Not a threat, he knows from his alter-ego -- but still, he doesn't trust the man. Nor does he see what the Other sees in him.
But each to his own.
"Should I be remotely surprised that you're as much of a bastard as everyone's been telling me?" he retorts, dryly.
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Plus it's Villiers. Or what he assumes is Villiers.
Either this is a bad joke, or it's weird Bar stuff happening.
"Should I be remotely surprised that you've already pulled a gun? As humorous as the sight of you trying to look threatening is.. I'd suggest putting it down, dear."
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Stare.
Stare.
The gun comes down.
"If you must know, the clothes come from post-apocalyptic Kansas, and I've killed far too many aliens than I care to recount."
Which basically means that he's killed an alien before. Hey, that's still far too many in his eyes!
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"Does the apocalypse have no tailors, then? Shame, really. It would be a nice thought to know that the end of the world doesn't mean a lack of good suits."
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"I'm the best tailor we have," he admits after a moment. "Although it's difficult to work without decent cloth."
It's either look like a hobo, or look like a quilt. Villiers prefers the former.
And anyways, he's hardly a tailor. He just knows how to sew things together, and has had enough experience adjusting clothes to manage to put some together from scratch.
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"Well, even so, I'm sure you can be kept busy with whatever other feminine jobs you can manage. A perfect little housewife to be whored out to post-apocalyptic communities everywhere."
Clearly this isn't the Villiers he knows. Therefore, being a grade A bastard is allowed even more so.
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But not from the Villiers in front of him, no; it's from the Villiers that has just walked up behind him.
"Careful," he says affectionately, with a small smile, but with a touch of irritation at femininity being attributed to him, "we're both armed and not particularly fond of your compliments."
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The other Villiers, the Milliways one, gets an eyeroll and not-at-all hidden distaste.
"...I still don't see what you see in him," he notes to his alter ego.
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.. So.. two Villiers is kind of odd.
Even so, his!Villiers has suddenly got an arm around his waist to pull him in close, and a kiss planted against his temple, mostly just a clear sign to other!Villiers that his!Villiers IS HIS AND SEE LOOK, HE CAN KISS HIM, HAHA.
"You failed to mention you had a hobo doppelganger around here."
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As for the kiss? It is appreciated, muchly. And reciprocated, for Villiers is just nice like that.
"I've shared headspace with him for a while, I thought you knew," he says, casually breaking the fourth wall. "Anyways, he's nice enough. Although I'm really not sure why he's so content with Imriel."
Because clearly, nothing is quite as interesting as having a Le Chiffre in your life.
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"Not a hobo; apocalypse," he corrects, somewhat petulantly. But not too much so.
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"Well, I suppose he has to whore himself out, what with apocalypse times being so rough and all," Le Chiffre decides, appreciating the kiss and all. "Plus, if I'm in that universe, I'm probably far too busy being a hero to be noticing someone like him."
UR NOT WORTH HIS TIME, KTHX.
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It's enough to make him facepalm nonetheless.
"I sincerely doubt any version of myself would whore himself out," he says dryly, after momentary confusion over pronouns. Because seriously, are alternate versions of yourself still referred to in the first person?
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Painful, nonlethal, and rather easy. And he so totally deserves it.
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Anyway! Leading away from Chiffre's narcissism and vanity for a bit.. his!Villiers gets a slow headshake of disagreement, for post-apocalyptic situations are clearly desperate times.
But it's other!Villiers that gets the conversation, "My kneecaps? Oh, my dear, that's already been done once before. Last year, in fact. Get with the times. Maybe try a bit of creativity next time. I'd suggest the head, but that's already been done, as has the shoulder.. and an arm.. and.. other areas.." he can't be bothered to list them all.
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