the_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

Someone has introduced Alanna to the Nerf Big Bad Bow. Take your archery skills to the EXTREME! said the packaging. How could she resist?

Well, perhaps she should have resisted long enough to go off duty, but it's a slow night and the target she's set for herself (the center seam on the noticeboard) doesn't seem to be complaining much. Nor did the patron she caught looming menacingly over another when she hit him in the back of the head with a foam arrow. As it turns out, he wasn't as stupid as he looked.

Slow nights can still be fulfilling, when one learns to compensate with other entertainment.

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That's one of the good things about Milliways, other entertainment is never more than the other shoe's drop away.

And speaking of that...

The only thing slight more disturbing than the slam of the front door, is the growl that follows quickly at its heels.

With his head down, and his shoulders squared, Raph stomps a straight path from the front door to Bar, he reaches over her to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels, before continuing out towards the lake.

Alanna tracks him with the bow raised and a frown.

There's something different about his stomp and bluster. And his face...

Mithros.

Brow furrowed further, she lets an arrow fly as the back door shuts; the foam hits wood with a hollow thump. She turns and looks at Bar without really seeing much, mentally reviewing their last conversation.

A sandy-haired head pops out from the doorway of the Staff Hallway.

"Sister Mary Francis, what the hell was that?"

Blinking, Alanna lowers the bow and looks at Mike, feet automatically starting to carry her his way.

"Raph."

Her tone is bleak.

Mike enters the bar proper, crossing towards Alanna.
"Woah, seriously? Bar didn't say, there was just this...chill that went down my spine.

...

A chill and...whiskey?"

"He took a bottle," she tells him, eyes flicking to Bar and back. "I suppose this means his talk with Abigail didn't go well."

A hint of guilt creeps into her voice. What else could it be?

"His talk with..."
Mike's eyes widen.

"oh."

He swallows hard.

"How was he walking? Like...physically."
Because Mike was the one who suggested the bit with the coupon.

She blinks again.

"A bit like a spectre of a guardsman, but that's normal."

And that might only make sense in her head.

"He looked angry."

"He felt angry."

Mike takes a seat near Alanna.

"He came to me asking for advice on what to say to her not too long ago."
Mike's the last resort, and he knows it.

"You think they, you know...ended it?"

Asking for advice? Alanna raises an eyebrow. She'd foisted advice on him, sure, but picturing Raph asking paints a picture that is even more stark.

"Goddess, I quite sincerely hope not," she answers, following it up with a curse. "He was going to apologize."

She swings her eyes around to Mike, gaze questioning.

Mike facepalms in empathy.
"Ugh, yeah...he said as much. I suggested he bring flowers. Well, among other things...clearly my suggestions were crap ones.

Alanna chews on her lip for a moment.

"Perhaps the error was in the execution?" she suggests, helpfully.

This is Raph they are discussing, after all.

Mike flops forward onto the table.

"...wow i really hope he didn't go with the oral sex. because that is a conversation i am not looking forward to having."

Somewhere behind the hand now covering her face, Alanna groans.

"that's what I'm saying," says Mike without looking up from the tabletop.

After a pause, he takes a deep breath and sits up.

"Okay. So. Raph messed up on a colossal level, then in an effort to fix it he messes up even more. Fantastic.

...

I really liked Abigail."

"I do like Abigail. No one else can handle Grace and the boys so well!" Alanna rails, throwing up her hands. "No, they can't end it. I won't let them."

She makes a growling sound and scowls, adding, "She is perfect for him, besides. Mithros."

"Yeah, what you said."

Mike exhales and musses up his bangs.

"Okay, so...we're putting this to rights, right? I mean...this is something that totally calls for meddling. And we're meddlers. Ace meddlers. Grade A Meddlers."

"Knight of the Realm," she says thoughtfully, "and Ace Meddler."

There's a certain ring to it.

"You got on well with Abigail, didn't you?"

Alanna edges closer.

"Only like gangbusters. Perhaps you were too busy to notice the numerous rugs we managed to cut during the victory party at Pirate's Swoop? We were on fire.

En.
Fuego."

"Rugs?"

Her blank look is made rather unnerving by the sheer lack of blinking.

"Good. I assume. Though George really had enough damage to deal with afterward without your assistance... But I think you might be the best person to speak with her."

Beat.

"I'll take Raph."

Mike opens his mouth to explain the expression when something occurs to him.

"Wait...wait waitwaitwaitwait. Why don't you want to talk t Abigail?"

This is regrettably easy to answer.

"Because I'm a noble. A friend, yes, but a noble first, in Abigail's eyes. She knew of me before she knew me. I honestly think you'll have better luck." A small smile. "For other reasons, as well."

She isn't very good at girl talk.

It's equal parts my awesome and my teetotaling, isn't it?"

Raph broods better with booze. This is a trufax.
Well, booze and fighting. And there is no way Mike is spar ready. No way in hell.

Alanna might not be much of a drinker, but sparring she understands. She nods: he gets Abigail, she gets Raph.

"Your awesome," she replies, tone firm. "Are we agreed?"

"I knew it," he preens before sticking out his hand to seal the deal.

"We have an accord. We'll get these two love-birds back together by hook or by tying them to a chair and then duct-taping it to the ceiling.

...

Possibly both."

Alanna shakes his hand, expression solemn.

"Never underestimate the power of a common enemy."

She smiles.

"You'll need proper clothes."

"Wait, seriously? That wasn't part of the deal. Those things are like wearing underwear, and not the fun kind."

A sigh.

"Just try to look somewhat appropriate."

"Don't worry, Alanna. I'm a highly trained ninja. If it's one thing I know how to do, it's blend."

It should be noted that right this second Mike is wearing a bright orange Hawaiian shirt complete with hula girls.

Alanna mutters something under her breath.

It's not highly complimentary, but at least it's not another curse.

"Do you need a map?"

Mike appears to be blissfully unaware of her consternation. It's one of his more charming attributes.

He shrugs. "I suppose it couldn't hurt, but the door's been really good about dropping me off where it's supposed to.

Membership has its privileges."

There are so many questions Alanna could ask that she decides it would be best for her head if she asked none at all. There's a nod, but other than that she lets the subject rest.

Mostly.

"I suppose it's" -and she waves at his shirt - "better than the lime green one with the pink birds, but that's not saying much." She bites her lip. "Right. I'm off to see to Raph. If I don't return, tell the children to look after their father and remember to set out milk for the cats."

Mike has the audacity to look affronted at Alanna's attack on his poor, defenseless shirt. Poor shirt. Doesn't she know how hard it is to be that bright without the aid of batteries?

No, of course not.
And with that he merely sighs.

"Good day. Good luck. Here's hoping he doesn't kill you by the morning. Oh and hey, if you need something a bit stronger than Jack."

A green bottle the size and shape of the sort that Adam uses for his cider appears on Bar's top.

Many, many years of caution war with the knowledge of what, exactly, she'll be facing when she follows Raph outside. Looking as if she really knows better, Alanna gives Mike a curt nod and her hand shoots out to snag the bottle. There, decision made.

"Best of luck."

With a smile that's more of a grimace, she starts to walk away only to turn back around.

"She doesn't know yet, Mike. The truth about you lot. She doesn't know as much as she probably thinks she should, and he's terrified of telling her. I think that might be the real problem."

Another nod, and she strides determinedly out the door, fingers tight around the green bottle.

This last Parthian shot of Alanna's hits Mike square between the eyes.

"Are you effing kidding me?!" he calls after her, before slumping forward on the table. "Damn you, Raph. I am soooo going to ninja kick the crap out of you."

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