For trans_9

[anothercoldwar]

1) The bar was a good place to be social without having to actually do anything that really counted as 'social.' Which was best for all involved, really, because if there was one thing Nikolas Kamarov failed at, it was being acceptably social with another human being. Applying vodka to the problem only helped so much--it made him more likely to

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[tipsystrategist]

Sumeragi had gotten used to the 'regulars' at the bar - being one herself rather helped with that. So a new face - a new, pretty handsome face - caught her attention right away. She got a mug of ale at the bar, and helped herself to a seat at the newcomer's table with a cheerful grin.

"You're new here, aren't you."

[anothercoldwar]

There was a woman sitting down with him. A good looking one who didn't seem to be, on first glance, insane in any way. Which really just made the situation more confusing, rather than less.

"Yes," he replied after the moment of bafflement had passed. "Did someone place a sign on me saying so, or was it a lucky guess?" He was shooting for a lighthearted joke, but his aim in that area was notoriously bad.

[tipsystrategist]

Sumeragi grinned. "I'm here often enough. I think I'd have noticed a face like yours before tonight." The slightly coy tone meant that yes, that was intended as a compliment.

[anothercoldwar]

Nikolas arched an eyebrow. Was he being hit on? That hadn't happened in long enough that he wasn't really sure what to make of it. Or if he should make anything of it.

"Is there something on it?"

That was about the extent of his witty repartee.

(was pointed here, hope it's okay if I jump in with a non T9 character) )

[youmissed]

Bars. Every place in the universe seemed to have bars.

Okay, so sometimes they had blue milk like Star Wars or their idea of vodka was Really Goddamn Terrible, but generally it was about the same as Earth...so long as you didn't ask where it came from, like the ass end of some kinda space beetle or something. First thing John Crichton learned about alien bar hopping: don't ask about where Freaky Glowing Shot A came from and don't ever, ever, ask for the bartender's life story, no matter how much s/he/they gave you the puppy dog eyes. Especially if they gave you the puppy dog eyes.

John joined the other guy at the bar, a mug of...stuff in his other hand. It looked almost like regular beer, right down to the foam. He flashed the other guy a friendly grin.

"Rough day? Or night, not that it makes a difference, ship like this. I'm John." He debated holding out his hand and decided, hey, why not. "Get those introductions out of the way."

Of course!

[anothercoldwar]

"Nikolas," he replied, returning the handshake. While he couldn't say he was used to people willingly placing themselves within his immediate vicinity, he did have enough social grace and general good-will not to mind it.

"It has been..." And then he had to pause to think about it, "A rough decade, unless my estimates are off." Which they could have been. A man could lose track of time easily, caught in the sort of circumstances he had been until quite recently.

[youmissed]

"Ouch, man," John winced.

He settled himself on the chair, resisted the urge to, uh, reach down and readjust himself thanks to that plantsuit being a literal pain in the balls and decided he could at least sit there and have a drink with a guy who didn't look inclined to go bananas at anyone. Ten years and still sane. Like you should get a medal for that (and no, he wasn't being sarcastic). John considered himself pretty damn impressed if Nikolas could stay on a ship for ten years, sleeping up in those...bed things and still have a pretty good outlook on life.

He took a cautious sniff at his drink, poking his finger in and licking it as he glanced over at Nikolas. "So you must've seen a lot of action then. Anything I should know about?"

[anothercoldwar]

"You get used to it." Which was the sad truth of the matter. Whether it was dealing with corrupt bosses, the casual cruelty of the human race as a whole, or suffering an unfortunate close encounter with the sun--well, no. He hadn't really gotten used to that last one. He'd just gone crazy for awhile to cope. But he'd gotten used to the memory of it, anyway.

"Nothing that you'd find helpful, I imagine." Because that was how these things worked. You could think you'd seen everything there was to see, and then some eldritch horror from a sideways dimension would pop up, and none of the ridiculous things you'd encountered thus far would help you at all. "I don't think the alcohol will bite you, though." Maybe that was helpful?