(Untitled)

[docscurlock]

When Doc makes his way into the bar, he's tracking mud and snowslush off his boots onto the floorboards but he doesn't care. The door swings shut on Deadwood and he makes his way carefully towards a darkened corner, waving at a waitrat to bring him another whiskey

Comments

[trigger_man]

Jack sees Doc come in from the other side of the room and makes his way over. He's still moving pretty carefully, as his ribs are still sore. At least the swelling on his eye has gone down, though it's still pretty colourful, as are the other bruises he's been sporting.

"Hey, Doc. How're you?"

[docscurlock]

It takes a half-second longer than it should for Doc to notice Jack approaching his table, but once he does, his face lights up with a smile.

"Jack! Hey," he ashes the cigarette into an ashtray that he's pretty sure wasn't there ten seconds ago. "I'm good. How're...you look like you've had a long day."

[trigger_man]

"Yeah, you could say that," Jack says, eyeing Doc a little suspiciously through the smoke haze. The air of lassitude around him seems a little unusual for Doc.

[docscurlock]

To his credit, he's only smoking tobacco.

At the moment anyway.

"Buy you a drink? We'll have t'git that little furry fella back here, though."

[wheelsy_sheriff]

It isn't too long after Doc is settled that Bill comes striding in.

He's out of uniform and dead on his feet, ready to head home from the station. Scrubbing his face with one hand, keys in the other, Bill doesn't realize he's walked into Milliways.

He also doesn't see the leftover slush-puddle until he steps in it.

There's the squeal of rubber sliding on wet floor, and Bill only has time to pinwheel his arms once before he's down on his backside.

"Son of a bitch."

[docscurlock]

Doc's close enough to see Bill's ballet solo and he drops his face into his palm at about the same time his friend's ass hits the ground.

"Aww, piss."

He shoves himself up from the bench, dropping his still-burning cigarette into the ashtray.

"Bill, you gotta watch where yer goin'," he says, walking over (carefully avoiding the slushpuddle) to lend him a hand up.

[wheelsy_sheriff]

Bill reaches for the proffered hand, muttering.

"I was watchin' wh-- "

It's then the voice registers and Bill looks up.

Seeing Doc's face, a quick glance around tells Bill he's ended up in Milliways, and the scowl turns into a smile.

"Doc, hey."

Bill winces while getting up, and hangs onto Doc's hand to give it a good pump.

"How y'been?"

[docscurlock]

"I been alright," he replies, clapping Bill on the shoulder with his free hand. "Can't complain for not bein' shot at recently. How 'bout you?"

He's already steering Bill towards his table -- clearly this reunion calls for a drink!

Or several.

[docscurlock]

Doc's lips curl into a appreciative smirk around the end of his own lit cigarette.

Now that is some talent right there, yes sir.

Once he's exhaled -- just a steady stream, no dancing woman here -- he nods his head.

"Good show y'got there."

[docscurlock]

Wry and quick, he breaths a laugh.

"Most of 'em are, I'm comin' to notice."

[katyafeline]

And now there's someone sitting next to him, a lit cigarette between her fingers as she contemplates his glass.

She'd apologize appearing from the Gloom, but she gets the impression he'd probably not notice.

At least she's not giggling at him?

[docscurlock]

Doc turns his head when there is suddenly a chill at his side, and instead of a draft, he spots Katya.

To his credit, he doesn't jump out of his skin. He simply smiles.

"Well, if it ain't a sight for sore eyes. How're you, darlin'?"

He waves at a waitrat to order another drink, and he'll order her vodka if that's what she'd prefer.

[katyafeline]

"Very well, cowboy." She drawls back at him in the world's worst impression of an American cowboy, her Muscovite accent too strong to form the proper vowels. She tips an imaginary hat, before taking another pull from her cigarette.

[docscurlock]

"M'very glad to hear that," he says, laughing a bit at her impression. (Of him?) He doesn't have a hat on at the moment, otherwise he'd tip it to her. "I know with your world bein' crazy as a batshit coondog on the scent, it's gotta be a rarity t'git a lick of peace'n quiet."

His accent is thicker, hazed over by the alcohol and the opiates running through his veins, but he doesn't notice or attempt to check it.

[howling_laugh]

"Snow?" Coyote says, eyeing his tracks. "Where are you getting snow from?"

Unless it's a different time of year for him, she supposes. Then snow is slightly less intolerable.

[docscurlock]

"Deadwood," Doc lazily replies, leaning back in the booth. "Streets are full'a the shit this mornin'."

And full of shit, but that's a given.

He smiles.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, darlin'. You want a drink?"

[howling_laugh]

"With you? Any time." Coyote claims the other side of the booth, sliding in and nudging his feet with one of her own. "What are you doing all the way in North Dakota? I thought you liked it a little close to me."

And a little warmer, too.

Heh. So many double entendres, so little time.