manofmyword | (no subject)

(no subject)

There is a man in the bar, sitting alone at a table for four with the Observation Window directly on his left, close enough to touch. He has an enormous glass jar of jelly beans and he is methodically sorting them by colour into a number of smaller bowls laid out in front of him.

Other things about him that might come off as odd include: the fact that he is wearing a ferociously lilac button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows under a muted green vest; the fact that he is not wearing any shoes, and his socks don't match, one of them yellow with a black pattern of bats and the other black with little yellow smiley faces; and, finally, the scars on his face, extending the sides of his mouth into a permanent crooked smile.

He might welcome company. Or he might not. It's not always easy to tell.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I dunno," he says, shrugging expressively and dumping the last three beans from the handful into a bowl of very light colours. "Works out somehow."

"Huh."

The newest bean is popped into her mouth. She doesn't embarrass herself like that time Natasha introduced her to tiramisu, but there's definitely a sound of surprised pleasure. "Chocolate! And... cherries, I think."

He bounces a little in his seat and claps his hands twice. "Oh, good for you."

He is an interesting man. Definitely not a future thing, there were men who acted like this back in her day, too. They just didn't do it in the bright light of a public bar.

Of course, in 2012, they're doing it in feather boas down a major street with pride. That was interesting.

So she grins back, amused, and folds her hands in her lap. "Any reason why you're organizing them at all?"

With obvious satisfaction: "Nnnnnnope."

"Bored at the end of the universe?"

"Maybe," he says, grinning.

Steph glances over his shoulder, to the window showing the universe exploding before their eyes, unending. Her smile is small but not bitter, not exactly.

"Stranger things've happened. That's for sure."

He follows her glance and matches her smile; his is soft and crooked.

"I like it," he says, tipping his head at the Window. "It's pretty."

"It is," Steph agrees, quiet.

It's nice, when your friend and teammate isn't falling to his death with stars and planets as his backdrop. Beautiful in its own way. She hasn't tried to commit to paint yet, but the thought's there, waiting for when she's ready.

"Makes you think," he adds. "About endings. Stuff blowin' up. All that."

Her smiles fades, just a touch. Watching stars explode and planets melt, the sky bloom in fireworks, lighting up the black.

"Yeah, it does." Softer.

He makes a quiet noise which could reasonably be described as a contented sigh, and picks a jelly bean out of the speckleds.

It's not ice. Everyone expects her to panic at ice, stares at her too much through it. It gets pretty ridiculous, to the point where Tony and Bruce had stared at her in barely-suppressed panic when they realized that particular Star Wars movie took place first on an ice planet.

No one expects totally normal disturbing things to disturb her, so no one stares at her when she's looking at them. Kind of nice.

Well.

He is looking at her. And smiling, still, just a bit.

"Caramel apple," he says.

She blinks, pulling herself out of her thoughts, and grins in response. "Now that's a flavor I'd recognize."

"Maybe there's another one," he says, tapping the rim of the pale-colours bowl. "Wanna take a chance?"

She laughs, just a soft huff of amusement as she reaches for it. "Sure, I can do that."

Taking a chance on jelly beans. Not the worst idea she's ever had.

She picks a pale brown bean and tries it out. "Huh. Toasted marshmallow."

"Lucky you. I love those."

He picks out one of a similar colour, pops it in his mouth.

"Ooh, coconut!"

Definitely one of the better pasttimes of Milliways.

Steph gets through lemon - as in lemon, sour enough to make her lips pucker and her mouth water and nearly spit it out - oatmeal, and pork chops before calling it off at her fourth bean. It had been an especially dark one and she'd hoped for another chocolate. At the first taste of copper on her tongue, she'd spat it out into her napkin and called a waitrat over for a drink order instead.

No reason to stop being sociable, but no.

"Would you like anything?" she asks, once the rat is settled beside their table.

"Hmm-mm, no thank you," he says politely.

Steph nods and turns back to the rat with a smile. "Just a water, please." It squeaks at her and hurries off.

He leans forward, around the jar, and lowers his voice.

"So... what was the bad one?"

Her eyes flicker toward him, tensing a little. Something about the way he treats it like a secret, something he knows she wouldn't want to say outloud.

It only takes a moment before she replies, quiet but clear, "Copper."

He giggles softly as he straightens.

"Ohhhh, that's cute." Patting the side of the jar fondly, "I love those little surprises."