(Untitled)
Dan's in the bar, tonight.
His hands are nearly healed up, but the wraps are still lightly around his palms, and he's dressed a little bit casually, but it's still obvious he's not from most modern times. Right now he's contemplating what to get to drink, sitting on a barstool.
Just another night.
[plotlocked, thanks]
[[tinytag: dan evans]]
His hands are nearly healed up, but the wraps are still lightly around his palms, and he's dressed a little bit casually, but it's still obvious he's not from most modern times. Right now he's contemplating what to get to drink, sitting on a barstool.
Just another night.
[plotlocked, thanks]
[[tinytag: dan evans]]
Comments 28
A man appears at the bar next to him.
He's very clean, dressed in civilian clothing -- a blue hooded sweatshirt, jeans, sneakers -- and sitting in a wheelchair.
He mutters an apologetic, "Sorry, sorry," as he pulls up beside Dan, adjusting the angle of the chair. A glance up, and he smiles at Dan.
"Evenin'."
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Dan eyes the wheelchair (and is suddenly reminded of how lucky he is that he's only got one bad leg) and then shifts the stool over to give him a bit more space.
His eyes fall to the man's face.
Accident? Nah. That...he's not sure about those scars, but he doesn't pry.
"Can I git you somethin'?"
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"Uh, uh, uh."
The man's eyes flicker up to the tab board, then back at Dan.
"Only 'f you let me repay the favor. Don't want to come off as a freeloader, ya know."
(His mannerisms are different from the 'clown'. He has re-created himself, specifically for this.
And it's a frighteningly good act.)
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He nods, briefly, before he reaches over and offers him a hand in greeting, of sorts.
"And that's fine with me," he agrees. "Name's Dan."
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