(Untitled)

[trigger_man]

Jack promised Carl and Raylan that he'd stay in the bar until they figured out what to do about the situation he'd run into outside, and he has no intention of breaking it.  Besides, he's still pretty sore, and the bar's a much better place to recuperate than anywhere he can think of outside.

So Jack's sitting in a chair by the fire, sipping a beer

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[fanofthegenre]

She's dealing with a murder on a soap opera set, of all places, and it's almost something of a relief when the door to Milliways shows up. She could do with another cup of coffee, and the bar is what she makes a beeline for as she enters, striding over to the first available stool and swiveling into a seat.

Bar always seems to anticipate her needs, a steaming hot cup of coffee already appeared and waiting before she even sits down, and she curls her hands around the warm ceramic, releasing a soft sigh of relief. Just a small break here, and she'll be ready to go back. Eventually.

[trigger_man]

Jack's walked over to the bar for another beer (he could have a waitrat get it, but some of his muscles have been stiffening up if he sits for too long, today) and spots Beckett perched on a stool.

"Hey, Beckett," he says, walking over to her and taking a seat on the stool next to her. It's not a terribly comfortable seat, considering the sorenes in his torso, but he does a fairly admirable job of not looking too uncomfortable.

[fanofthegenre]

She almost does a double-take when she sees him (a completely appropriate response in this case, as she notes the bruises and residual swelling on his face).

"Oh, my God, Jack," she breathes, turning to face him with no shortage of concern in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

[trigger_man]

"Yeah," he says, giving her a somewhat wan smile. "I just ran into a bit of trouble outside."

Somehow he doesn't think this explanation is going to soothe her concerns much.

[hallelujahpilot]

"I see you escaped," Trudy says, cheerfully, falling onto a chair near Jack. Given the fact that she's, well. Wearing an eyepatch with a black bra and low-slung black pants, she's probably referring to the lack of costume.

Or Carl and Raylan.

(The outfit, although hiding the surgery scars on her legs, is showing off the nicks in her arms from bullets and knives, the mark on her ribcage where someone tried to stab her)

[trigger_man]

Jack blinks at her outfit for a moment. "Apparently I have. Bar's idea, I take it?"

[hallelujahpilot]

She gives him a long, long look.

"Jack," she says at last, "do I strike you as the kind of woman who would wear this to a bar?"

[trigger_man]

"If the bet was big enough, maybe," he says.

Really, he's fully expecting a smack for that.

[itwasjustified]

Raylan takes a seat in a nearby armchair, a dish of vanilla ice cream in tow.

Glancing over, he's glad to see Jack's healing.

"Keeping the fish company?"

He tips his head toward the fireplace.

[trigger_man]

"I'm not sure how good company I am for them," Jack says, turning toward him. "How're you doing?"

[itwasjustified]

"Oh, I can't really complain," Raylan says, digging his spoon into the ice cream. "Except it appears my neighbors upstairs are of the enthusiastic persuasion."

And Raylan's pretty sure he overheard a none-too-hushed conversation that involved caramel sauce and a power drill in the wee hours.

He's trying to forget.

The ice cream helps.

[trigger_man]

Jack wrinkles his nose in an expression of distaste. "Can't say I've ever had that problem, but then I know my neighbours and they both tend to be gone for weeks at a time."

Also, he doesn't want to think about how awkward it would be to overhear Beckett getting amorous.