(Untitled)

[simplyashifter]

A door opens into Xanadu, and through it walks a somewhat scruffy man with sandy hair and a solid two day's worth of stubble-growth on him. The thin morning light that pours in behind him is tinted with the lingering crepuscular songs of birds and insects, and he yawns against the lull of it. The yawn keeps him distracted long enough to pull his

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[lalo_inmortal]

"Hola." Calm greetings and a slight amusement in his eyes, Lalo sizes up the new arrival. Obviously new given that exclamation and panicked reaction. This place, it has a tendency toward charmingly making its existence known in these inconvenient ways. "You can let go of that, it shouldn't disappear."

The doorknob, naturally. Not that anyone, including Lalo can promise that the door the man came through will be the door he can or should use to leave. He'll figure it out in time, hopefully.

[simplyashifter]

"Uh. Hey." Sam's senses, already rocketed into adrenaline-fueled overdrive, take Lalo in, and his nostrils flare a little. A few heartbeats pass (not all that many - his is going pretty fast, after all) before he lifts his hand slowly away from the door, eyes locked on Lalo's.

He breaks first, looking away and then back as he straightens up and half a smile makes a valiant attempt at sticking to his face.

"Oh. Uh. If you say so. ...But here's the thing: neither should my bar."

[lalo_inmortal]

The Spaniard quirks a brow, he doesn't know what this person is but he'd lay money on him not being human. Canine, maybe, but not lupine and that just might be his saving grace-at least where Lalo is concerned.

Then he grins. A bar, that's something he can show some genuine interest in, maybe even enthusiasm. The businessman that lurks in the more rational side of the werewolf takes over. "What sort of establishment is you disappearing bar? Clientele?"

Never mind that the man is obviously out of sorts, Lalo assumes a distraction will hep him ease into things.

[simplyashifter]

Sam looks back at the door, and then at Lalo again, clearly just lost as all hell.

"Uh, its...well it's not much. Just a bar. Food, drinks, pool table, plenty of room for everyone." He looks down and makes a cutting gesture with his and, attempting to rally.

"Wait. Alright, now. I know I'm not in Bon Temps anymore, and this sure as hell don't look like Kansas. What's going on? This is..." not something that a werewolf could possibly pull off, this sort of reality-replacement. "I ain't mad," yet, "but sure'n you have to have some idea what just happened to me, or you wouldn't be so calm. Help a cousin out?"

[lalo_inmortal]

Cousin? Hah. That gets a smile and a shake of his head. "Bon Temps?" Well, that helps to place the other man, at least. Somewhat. Who knows how many Bon Temps really exist? Lalo isn't overly concerned with the answer, the vague frame of reference is enough for him. "I would think conversation regarding your livelihood the more interesting topic but if you must insist...

What has happened is this: you have entered the city of Xanadu. It is a place between worlds and a crossroads if you know how to make use of them. Why? That is something I cannot tell you, it seems to be different for everyone." He really would rather chat about the food and beverage industry even if Sam's dress, demeanor and diction didn't seem to suggest the sort of wine list Lalo was accustomed to.

[simplyashifter]

"I ain't got a livelihood if I ain't got a bar, man!" He will be happy to talk with you about much fancier wine than he's ever tasted or served as soon as he figures out if he's ever going to serve wine again, period.

"Between worlds? ...Fuck. Now that I've lost my bar, I really need one." At least he's not accusing Lalo of lying or joking with him. "Well. I guess there's...not a lot I can do just standing here, and I hope to God they've got coffee and whiskey here or I'm in real trouble. The name's Sam, by the way, Sam Merlotte." He finally walks away from the door to extend his hand to the other man.

"I'm much obliged for your patience and help."

[lalo_inmortal]

Lalo takes the offered hand and grips it, perhaps far more tightly than called for, a wordless warning that he's stronger than he looks and not not opposed to using that strength when need be. It is perhaps more polite (at least more discrete) than growling and staring the other down in a display of dominance. Instinctive behaviors he can't quite ignore even if he knows on some level its not needed here. "Eduardo Inocencio."

Releasing Sam's hand, he attempts to assuage some of the man's worries, "The bar is not lost, unless in your absence something has happened to it. Is that likely?" A smirk, "God, no but there is caffeine and alcohol in vast quantities. You would appreciate Stigmata, I think."

No God, just Stigmata...if you don't know that the latter is a bar, you might be highly confused at that one.

[simplyashifter]

Sam winces, and does not look particularly comforted by this display of extreme manly...wolfishness. When he gets his hand back, he shakes it out once, turning head and body slightly to the side as the conversation continues - distinctly guarded body language. Not aggressive, but certainly not submitting. You're not the boss of him, pal.

In a way, it's a kindness, the polite territorial violence. It forces Sam to focus, gives him something familiar to ground himself with.

"Alright now, Eduardo, I ain't gonna piss on anything. And thanks for the assurance, but you know, now that I think about it I'd probably better just go back and see to my own bar my own self. Save the exploring for later."

Or NEVER.

[lalo_inmortal]

There's a laugh from him, the tacit recognition that neither is quite what they appear to be now blown open with Sam's commentary. "If you like. I hope you can do so that easily."

Lalo's aware that finding one's way back can be a little more trying than simply wanting to return home. "When you tire of opening doors, Stigmata will still be there." He gestures in the general direction of the bar.

[simplyashifter]

Werewolves. Sam has heard tales of werewolves who are not jerks, but mostly in the same way that he's heard tales of bigfoot. Little hard evidence exists as proof.

"Alright then, I'll keep that in mind."