meadowlark | @stephen.strange

For those of you I haven't introduced myself to yet, my name is Dr. Stephen Strange.

The more recently arrived may not know but thanks to the generosity of Morningstar we own two buildings in New Amsterdam: one is the garage above the current safehouse and the other is a bar under the sports stadium in the city.

The latter we intend to open soon as Red Wings, a working sports bar, with a view to ensuring financial independence and security for us as a group going forward. It's been in the works for a while, will operate under the management of myself and [Bad username or site: clarke @ griffin], and we're looking for a staff.

We'll need bar staff and security for busier periods. We're aiming to create as much opportunity as possible, so if you're interested don't hold back on letting us know. There's no application, no bar work experience necessary, we'll just need to speak with you to figure out suitability and availability. If you're interested in a security position I need to stress that power use is absolutely out of bounds, so experience will be a little more important here.

If any of the more financially established of you can volunteer time or resources while we get this off the ground, that will also be appreciated. Any of you with significant Cooltalk followings, I'd like to talk about collaborating to help us hit the ground running.

Any questions, interest checks, etc, you can get in touch with me here or with Clarke or myself personally via direct message.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hooray.

[ He says with monotone enthusiasm, because thus far it's been a little bit like showing up in a new dimensional and realizing you're the new counselor at summer camp. Hadriel had a slightly wider variety of age groups, but then, he's sure he hasn't met everyone here yet. ]

Originally, yeah. You?

[ A vague, mostly benign smirk on Stephen's face. As little as he'd wish the fate of lone adult island amongst the youthful masses on anyone, there's some inevitable schadenfreude involved in watching somebody else stumble into the life he's been living for the last seven months. ]

Yeah. [ Originally, interesting. ] Space, or something else?

[ The seeming familiarity is telling, at least. They've all been whisked away and operated on, bestowed with some kind of power - which Nate wishes he knew about, or could trigger, something - and dropped unceremoniously in a foreign environment, but given precedent he knows that a number of those afflicted have been through similar circumstances. ]

Interdimensional kidnapping.

[ He supplies helpfully, rubbing at a spot on the counter with the pad of his thumb. ]

Spent about two years in a place called Hadriel. Went home. Was there for a couple more hours and then I woke up here. [ The thin smile on his face understands the irony of the situation. ] Lucky me.

[ Interdimensional kidnapping. Dimensional travel is far from new to him (abductions aside) and Nathan isn't the first he's heard to have experienced something similar before, but it still tends to come as a surprise to him when others throw the words around with anything resembling ease.

A downward slide to Stephen's expression. Quiet sympathy mixed in with some mild humor. Two years, a two hour trip home, and then right back out into the fray. ]

Looks like the multiverse just can't get enough of you.

[ There are questions to be asked, questions about the behaviour of the displacement between Drake's home universe and this Hadriel and how it might compare to the behaviour of the dimensional link here. But they met five minutes ago, and the guy came to check out the bar not be quizzed on what is doubtless not his favorite topic.

He'll get there, but he'll ease into it. ]

You want something for that?

[ Asks the proprietor of this bar, standing behind said bar's bar. Here's hoping that's a clear enough offer. ]

[ He would have offered the information if he wasn't fully aware that some people - namely, those who have been here for some time - would be interested. Nate would have been the same, back in that other world, eager to compare notes and to an extent he did just that with a few select individuals who were unfortunate enough to go around a second time. He's trying not to think of where they are.

He's trying very, very hard not to think of any of that.

Multiverse is a term he hasn't yet heard and it shows in the eyebrow that quirks briefly before settling again, and Nate purses his lips. ]

Sure. Nothing like booze for an existential band-aid. [ An amicable sort of offer and one he won't reject. ] What d'you got that's stronger than beer?

Why don't you come around and take a look?

[ An amicable sort of offer? Bitch you thought. This is a training opportunity.

He steps back from the bar, making space for his newest staff member to come back and get a decent look at the full range on offer. A lot of it is mostly recognizable as 26th century equivalents of 21st century staples on close enough inspection, but there are plenty of mystery bottles too.

He may have gone slightly overboard on the breadth of initial stock. Better to be over-prepared than under-, right?]

Aw, and here I thought you were being a gentleman.

[ He tsks, pushing off the counter and rounding the corner. Nate isn't much peeved - he'd prefer to get his own drink when he doesn't entirely know what to expect, and it's worth it to see what the future holds for alcohol and how much times have changed (or haven't, as the case may be). The collection is extensive, ranging from clear to dark, grain to grappa. ]

Okay...

[ Nate mumbles to himself, tongue in cheek, familiarizing the labels with the bottles and their various contents, on occasion picking one up just to examine it a little more closely. Vodkas, whiskeys, rums, the entire gamut on hard liquor down to a brandy that smells really, really expensive. Sliding it back onto the shelving behind the bar he reaches for a clean glass, shooting Strange a sidelong glance. ]

Think you got enough selection?

Just about.

[ There's nothing sheepish about the admission: the range is a display of his naivety in this industry, sure, but it was entirely intentional. He's a scientist. He may not have much business savvy outside of making bids for funding that he was almost always guaranteed and how to do the math on whether or not a patient was worth his time, but he does know how to conduct research.

Sometimes practical just happens to be better than academic. Especially when failed experiments mean more liquor for you and yours.

Stephen's been stood quietly as Nathan gets on with it, arms folded and leaning against the frame of the door that leads out to the store and backrooms (and to something else entirely), but when he's addressed and it's clear the bulk of the initial inspection is done, he breaks his silent observation to cross to the bar and fix himself something too.

Whiskey and little water. It takes him no time at all to pull together— somebody's clearly plenty familiar with his whiskey of choice at the very least.

Sip. ]

Think you can manage it?

[ One's alcohol preferences are telling, though Nate is hardly the sort of person to jump to gross conclusions regarding character based upon what somebody imbibes. Strange is hedging his bets by starting big and working out solutions in the process, determining the necessity of elements in an attempt to cover all the bases. Not a bad approach, all things considered.

He splashes a rum he doesn't recognize into his glass, examining the contents just before snorting at the question. ]

I once worked in a cantina that was frequented by the cartel. Compared to that, I think we're gonna be fine.

[ Nate indulges in a small, appraising sip. ]

So who's volunteered so far, and for what? If I'm gonna help manage and get people up to speed, I wanna know what we're working with.

@stephen.strange

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