(Untitled)

[roadhouse_ellen]

Ellen Harvelle doesn't know her bar like the back of her hand. As folks like to point out sometimes, who goes around staring at the back of their hand like they're out to memorize it? What use'll that ever be

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[didntseeit]

"Welcome to Milliways," comments a woman at the Bar. Thirty, maybe. Hispanic with a mostly American accent, and there is a look there that hunters, con-men and cops get - watchful between the charm.

[roadhouse_ellen]

Watchful, she's used to seeing. Doesn't put her at any kind of ease.

Pretty much the opposite, really: you watch if you've got reason to watch.

Ellen takes her hand off of the door -- but doesn't move forward -- and rests it on her hip. "I'm sorry," she says. (She's not.) "Welcome to where?"

[didntseeit]

"Milliways. It's a Bar built into a loop of time and space. Has a nasty habit of popping up when you least expect it."

[roadhouse_ellen]

"You mind explaining to me how the hell it ended up in the back of my own bar?"

This is levelly said. Might look similar to calm, but it definitely isn't the same.

She keeps her own set of protections around the Roadhouse that've got nothing to do with locks on the doors, and she always keeps them tight.

[re_mybrains]

Tom glances up from over at the bar, and his mouth twists ruefully. Newbie alert!

Standing up, he comes closer, calling, "You look lost. First time in?"

[roadhouse_ellen]

She fixes him with a look.

"First time in where?"

[re_mybrains]

. . . Whoo, that's a look you don't mess with.

He gestures at the bar. "Here -- Milliways. It's, uh . . . This'll sound either crazy or dumb, but it's a magic bar."

[roadhouse_ellen]

Ellen still hasn't let go of the door. "Well, between those two choices, I'm gonna have to go with 'dumb,'" she says.

Either on his part for thinking that, or on hers for letting someone edge in through the less normal locks she's got on the Roadhouse.

"You got a better explanation?"

[ladyfirestarter]

There's a red-haired woman sitting not far from the door, and she looks up at the bang when it shuts. Her glance touches Ellen's face, and her expression changes from brief startlement to understanding. Oh, that look says, of course.

"Hi," she says. "New here?"

[roadhouse_ellen]

"Depends on what you wanna call 'here.'"

She folds her arms. (Loosely, the better to move quick if she needs to move.)

"You mind telling me?"

[ladyfirestarter]

She smiles.

"It's called Milliways, it's a point of convergence for pretty much every time and place that's ever been, and doors leading to it tend to show up unexpectedly." A beat. "I'm guessing one just did for you?"

[roadhouse_ellen]

"You're damn right it did," she retorts. There's not as much heat behind it as there is simple exasperation: don't act stupid with me. "Any reason why it'd show up in my bar?"

[regtuesdaysuit]

"You know, a lot of people say that about this place, but on the whole, Hell could be a lot worse."

In Josh's considered opinion, being stuck in the White House with the Press Secretary on his ass for something that, really, couldn't be pegged on him as entirely his fault -- that was a lot noisier.

Worse. He means worse.

[roadhouse_ellen]

"Yeah, I'm well aware of that," she answers, snappish and dismissive.

If there's a scrap of folklore, myth, or legend out there that paints Hell as a Goddamn bar, she's yet to hear it.

"You wanna tell me where I am?"

[regtuesdaysuit]

"It's, um."

This feels remarkably like talking with his boss.

"So lemme just preface this by saying I work in the White House. I may be under a great deal of strain, but I'm very competent. I've been forced to conclude that it's not, in fact, a product of my own fevered imagination, and that you and I are standing in a sentient bar at the end of the universe. I think they kind of try and pad that bit of trivia by giving you the first drink on the house."

[roadhouse_ellen]

Her eyebrows lift at the mention of the White House.

They rise only a little bit further at sentient bar at the end of the universe.

"Why's it in my bar?"