(Untitled)

[cant_kim]

Sometimes, jobs don't go like you hope they will

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[lady_detective]

The door slamming certainly gets my attention. The clothes keep it, because the boy looks like he could be from my own country (perhaps even off the streets of my own city), and I've not met anyone else in Milliways for whom I could say the same. He's also quite obviously new here: new people always exhibit some degree of panic and confusion.

I stand up - carefully, because of all the bruises I have to take into account - and go to meet the boy. "Calm down," I say. "You're quite safe here. It's called Milliways, and...probably not what you were expecting."

[OOC: Been waiting for you! Unfortunately, I have class, and I have to call slowtime. Just wanted to get that first tag in.]

[cant_kim]

[ooc: Slowtime is, as they say, love!]

Kim's head jerks up to look at her.

"It ain't -- I--"

Equally abruptly, she ducks her head and puts up to hand to touch her cap. "No mum. Didn't mean to barge in, mum."

[lady_detective]

The hand is grubby but nimble-looking, with a supple wrist and no calluses. No farm or factory work, then - I'd lay odds that this visitor is a career street arab or pickpocket. "Nobody comes in here on purpose, and nobody gets kicked out unless they're a serious danger to others," I assure the boy.

(Boy? Actually, the wrists have me wondering. It could just be malnutrition or an unusually delicate build, but...)

"It's quite different from what you're used to, I'll wager." Well, it's different from what anyone's used to.

[cant_kim]

She glances up, frowning.

"It's a flash joint. --Ain't it?"

The toff's not showing any inclination to call a constable, or the owner. This is encouraging, if unexpected.

[the_antiangst]

Angel was just working on a sewing project, but slamming doors have a way of attracting attention.
And Angel, of all people, is not one to determine gender based on dress, so for now he's making no assumptions. Other than the fact that the kid looks hungry.
"You all right?"

[cant_kim]

Kim's gaze snaps to him, eyes still wide.

They get wider, if possible, at the outlandish clothes, and then drop to the floor in what Kim hopes is proper respect.

"I'm -- sorry, mum -- didn't mean to barge in--"

[the_antiangst]

"Welcome to Milliways. Very, very few people do mean to barge in, at least at first."
Angel sure as hell wasn't expecting it... but that's another story.

[cant_kim]

She looks up, frowning.

"'Welcome?'"

People don't usually welcome a grubby street-thief.

[accipiterpuella]

Kendra is sitting at the bar proper, but turned so that she faces the masses, the heels of her red boots firmly placed on the rungs of her stool; she's uncomfortable here without her back against a wall, or a semblance thereof, which in this case is Bar.

A bottle of that righteously good old timey root beer is held loosely in her right hand, balanced against her thigh; it's about the only thing that makes this place familiar and bearable (along with exploring) when she finds herself spirited here alone, with no one she knows to converse with.

The slamming sound naturally turns her gaze towards source, and for chrissakes, there's a kid. A kid looking a little worse for wear, but isn't that par for the course in this place, always?

[cant_kim]

You can almost see her categorizing people as her eyes flick over the bar. Toff, toff, market-type, toff and an easy mark--

--Wings. And skin-tight . . . something.

[accipiterpuella]

By the standards of her own world, Kendra's thematic ensemble is positively modest; there are, after all, women she knows in her profession that wear what could safely be called nothing but colored dental floss.

But there is a kid, a kid with that look, the look that communicates in shorthand that this is not someone from her world, maybe not someone from her universe at all, unless this kid does recognize her and is simply more star-struck more than the norm.

It happens.

"Hi," she calls out, loud enough for him to hear, hopefully, but not loud enough to attract attention, then waves. "You look like you just saw a cat recite some Keats."

[cant_kim]

. . . The shock turns into puzzled blankness.

"Do what?"

[walksthebounds]

There's another boy who looks around Kim's own age sitting in the bar; he tilts his head as the new arrival comes in, watching with some curiosity. He's not dressed like a pauper - his clothes are sturdy enough - but between his wiry frame, sharp gaze, and cocky air, he's clearly not a toff, either.

[cant_kim]

That type, Kim can handle right enough.

She meets his curious glance with a what are you looking at? glare, and moves on to warily assessing the place.

[walksthebounds]

Jamie's eyebrows shoot up.

"No need to be unfriendly," he says; 'some people sure are touchy,' says his tone of voice.

[cant_kim]

"Ain't no call to go starin' like you never seen a boy before," she snaps back.

It's not quite as confident as she might like. She's still shaken.

[seeks_sixfinger]

"You are in a magic bar, so if things look strange, that is why. Don't worry."

It's meant to sound very reassuring.

It's also coming from a man in a large pirate hat.

[cant_kim]

". . . What?"

There are a few too many things being input right now for Kim to process them all.

Starting with "magic bar," "Spanish accent," and coming up short on "fancy hat."

[seeks_sixfinger]

"Magic bar," Inigo repeats, because that's the simplest explanation, and if it throws her for a loop, he's not going into the 'end of the universe' part.

"You look like you have no' been here before."

[cant_kim]

"No, sir."

That's more or less automatic -- he's carrying a sword, after all.

"I ain't heard of a frogmaker pub in this part o' London."