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.

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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."

Cute. Even assuming it was meant to be a metal flavor and not-- 'cute' isn't the word she'd have chosen.

"There are other flavors like that?"

"Weird ones? Yep. A few here and there. I like 'em," he says cheerfully.

"I thought the spinach was weird," Steph admits.

"Sure," he agrees. "But not as weird as—" (his tongue flicks out to touch his lower lip, over the thin looping scar that crosses it in the middle) "—copper."

Her eyebrows drop, eyes flickering. How he says it, what he says, the touch of his tongue to the disfiguring scars.

Steph isn't smiling as she straightens, one hand flat on the table. "Suppose you're right. If you'll excuse me?"

He grins up at her, unperturbed.

"Sure."

She forces the expression, a tight smile, no more than her lips widening to the side without curve and nods as she gets up. Hand to her chest to hold back the tie that isn't there by habit.

She'd just ordered a drink but she'll pick it up at the bar instead, head... elsewhere.

Ask around.

"Take care now," he calls after her, amicable as you please, and goes back to his sorting.

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