(Untitled)

[fathers_cleric]

Here is a face that the bar has not seen in a long time. A very long time.

"-Robbie, I need you to-"

Preston frowns as the door opens, not to his bathroom but to...a bar.

The bar.

It all comes flooding back and Preston steps in before closing the door behind him.

Thank Father.

He collapses into a chair, mentally thanking the universe.

Comments

[ninja_mountie]

Some of the people here've seen him before, and some of them haven't. The fellow at the next table falls into the latter category. Even sitting down, he's... well, he's small. You could describe him as bantam-sized and probably get away with it. His hair is the color of burnished silver; his eyes are the same striking hue, if you look close enough.

He might be a bit more noticeable if he were in his red tunic just now, but he's not. That'll come later, when he heads out for the evening. For now he watches the new arrival with some interest, hands around a cup of tea so small it would not be out of place in a girl's playset.

[ninja_mountie]

"Told you, friend, it's 1905. King Edward the Seventh's on the throne in England. My country, well-" He shrugs a little. "Most of the North's pretty uncivilized yet. Hardly anyone there to be civilized, at least just now."

[fathers_cleric]

Preston considers this. A King means a possible dictator, but people willingly would put up with their rule without the aid of-

He sighs. Better to come out and just explain it.

"...I'm..well-In another time period I would have been considered an American before America dissolved." He nods to himself. That's fair right?, "...Civilization in itself is a relative term where I'm from."

[ninja_mountie]

"... huh."

He turns this thought over several times before really giving it his full consideration.

"Somebody invade?" he asks, sounding just a little bit weary at the thought.

[fathers_cleric]

Preston considers this.

"...I don't believe so." There might have been invasions Somewhere, ".....There was a tactical nuclea-"

Ugh.

"....They were allied with Mexico at the time."

[ninja_mountie]

The cut-off word goes right over his head, regardless. They didn't even have quantum physics in 1905, let alone knowledge of the atomic bomb.

"Mexico," he repeats thoughtfully. "If that don't beat all. Huh."

[fathers_cleric]

Preston drums his fingers on the desk. It's a bit of a habit he's picked up.

"....Mexico had ceased to be Mexico by then of course, but once the government had fallen the rebels were more then willing to accede to the demands of foreign parties."

He can practically recite it from memory.

"...Suffice it to say...the United states that-was spent a good decade or so in a sort of outlaw...zone."

[ninja_mountie]

He's not a well-read man. He's not even particularly schooled; Preston would be shocked to find out just how little schooling he has. But he does remember, once, a reading in some church service or other (he makes it a point to stop in now and again, even if it's not a church he belongs to). Something about the Lord speaking to Jeremiah and saying not to father any children, because the times were too rotten for that to be a good idea for the kids.

He's suddenly thinking this might not be such a bad idea, if this is what the eventual future holds.

"You paint a pretty bleak picture, friend."

[fathers_cleric]

Preston looks uncomfortable. It's not the worst of it, but-

"...I'm ashamed of the events that lead us to that point. And the things that happened afterward."

[ninja_mountie]

He shakes his head, just a little, and then steps back a pace to take a good long look at Preston. He has to; Preston's that much taller than him.

"Don't believe I caught your name," he says. "Most folks call me Mouse when I'm not on duty."

[fathers_cleric]

Preston extends a hand standing up-

Only to sit back down, embarassed, "John Preston-Attache to the Ambassador of Libria, former Cleric first class of the tetragrammaton."

[ninja_mountie]

Mouse nods and shakes the hand anyway. It's not as if anyone in Canada is his height when he meets them, after all. "Pleasure to meet you, then, Mr. Attache'," he says. "I'm afraid you've got me licked there. Only title I've got is 'Corporal of the Royal North-West Mounted Police'."

He's wrong. He has others, sort of. But they're nothing official; they're things he's called by the superstitious sorts who inhabit the far North.

[fathers_cleric]

Preston tilts his head to the side, "Canadian?" He nods, "Canada remained a source of reason during the third war."

This is neat. A canadian! Who's not part of Father's little order!

[ninja_mountie]

Third war? With all those countries involved? He has trouble imagining wars getting anywhere near that big. Even the second Boer War wasn't that monstrous.

Not that the surprise shows on his face. He's learned to stay very, very still in his time watching animals that might take fright at him. This isn't so different from that.

"Been livin' there a couple years now," he says. "They're good folk, mostly. It's my job to handle the ones who aren't."

[fathers_cleric]

"The mounties were the police." Preston nods, "Is it true you each rode horses rather then cars?"

[ninja_mountie]

"In the warm season, sure," says the little Mountie. "The rest of the year it's dog teams. Mine's out front, where I left 'em. You can't keep a horse as far north as my patrols, anyway. It'd be pure murder."