thecapitol | Speakeasy Conversations [OPEN]

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Speakeasy Conversations [OPEN]

WHO | Riddick and OPEN
WHAT | Looking for some information. And maybe a good beer.
WHEN | After his death, late week 4
WHERE | Speakeasy
WARNINGS / NOTES | As always, Riddick's language

So he hadn't been punished inside or outside the arena. Which meant either his conversation with the bartender at Speakeasy hadn't been overheard and registered by anyone important, or they were biding their time to see what he did with the information. Riddick was tentatively betting on the former.

Which meant it was time to get more information. Freshly revived and returned to the capitol, he spend a day getting reacquainted with the city and finding out about the whole curfew thing before stopping by the bar. He paced inside and went immediately to the bar. It took him two drinks-- cheap beer; he wasn't wasting credit tonight, not yet-- before he got around to mentioning Lilium and Conscientia.

Plenty of time for a chat with anyone else who happened to be in the bar, right?

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He's not really accustomed to drinking, between not having the money to spend and the bigger, more obvious problem. But bars were good places to find out what's going on, even if there's not too much gossip to overhear when there's a 10 o clock curfew in place.

His plan was to just sit around, nurse his virgin cubalibre, and see if anyone's got any ideas of what's going on, but one of the guys at the bar looked familiar, and he couldn't quite place him. After a few seconds of glancing, he remembers, mixed up in the vague glimpses that characterize all of his memories from the other guy, and he takes that as his cue to try and leave as subtly as possible, looking pointedly in not Riddick's direction as he passes.

Riddick notices most things, particularly when people are so carefully side-eying him and then carefully not side-eying him and then leaving. He hooks out a hand to catch Bruce's arm as the man passes. "There somethin' you're afraid of, there, big guy?"

And considering Riddick, at the moment, is really rather bigger than Bruce, obviously he means more than just current size.

"Good game, handsome."

Conscientia leaned across the bar, teeth flashing white behind her vivid red lips. She was decked out to the nines in a boxy, pin striped suit, hair bleached white, cropped tights, with swirls shaved in.

She wasn't worried about riling him up. He could take it. And if he couldn't, she could handle him. She wasn't a woman too worried about standing her ground.

Whelp, so much for thinking he wasn't seen.

"That's funny. Very clever and original," he says with a grimace, because it's obvious enough that he caught a glance. He avoids looking at Riddick even now, brushing his nose with his finger and looking down and away, instinct making him look towards the door. "I'll let you get back to your drink," he says, not really thinking he'd let go, but it's worth a try.

"C'mon, siddown. I'll buy you one, too." Riddick gives the arm he's got a little tug before letting him go, inviting more than insisting. "I don't bite. Unless yer annoying or somethin'."

And he's too curious for Bruce to be too annoying off the bat, at least. Maybe in a few minutes he'd change his mind.

If she was going to think that would rile him up, she had another thing coming. He looked her up and down, smirked, and said, "Then you weren't watchin' that close, were you?" Considering he didn't kill a single person, he tripped one and made fun of another and helped a few more, and then froze to death swimming to the edge of the water barrier... yeah, it wasn't that great of a game, from most people's perspectives.

He was pretty content with it, though, he supposed.

He sighs, scratching his head, before relenting and taking the chair next to him. "Well, I try to make a point of not being too annoying."

After a second, he continues, figuring he might as well save him the effort. "Save your money, I don't, really." Whether that's connected to the big green elephant in the room, either directly or indirectly, is up for Riddick's interpretation.

"Around here, about the only remaining meaning to the word good is entertaining."

Her words were drawn out, a long slow drawl, and exaggerated capitol accent to match her exaggerated movements. and exaggerated features, for the matter.

"You got a drink over there." Riddick motions to the place Bruce had been sitting before. "I'll getcha another one of those. Or you can tell me why you decided you had to leave soon's you recognized me. I'll take that, too."

Because that's sure what it looked like, and he didn't actually think he'd made that bad of an impression. It makes him curious what causes that.

"Oh, well, entertaining." He drew that word out, too, but none other. Even managed not to drop the G. "'Least I got that goin' for me. About all I'm likely to be in there, anyway, unless somethin' changes pretty big."

He wasn't entirely sure this was the woman he was supposed to talk to, but he'd heard more said here, freer than anywhere else, so he had a feeling about it. Anyone who would suggest he talk to the owner probably implied the other employees were also trustworthy, to an extent.

"Yeah, it's a Coke." Or whatever passes for it here; he's not exactly sure if huge corporations stuck around this far in the future, though he's sure if any did, it'd be Coca-Cola.

But then he shifts uncomfortably, because it's different when someone just comes out and says it like that. "I think I'll stick with the Coke."

Riddick chuckles, and beckons the bartender over again. "Another of that fizzy coke thing for the scruffy guy," he says. Looking back to Bruce, he adds, "You wanna sit, or should I stop bothering ya and let you run away like you so obviously wanna do?"

He laughs quietly and pulls up a chair; as far as these conversations usually go, this is pretty manageable. "You know how people say 'it's not you, it's me?' It's not personal, I promise."

"Oh, so you see anybody you recognize, you run away? Bet you got a lot of friends." And for Riddick, really, this is positively amiable. He's not making fun of him too hard, he's not glaring, he's just gently mocking.

"I don't blame you. I wouldn't spill blood on command, either."

She shrugged, flashing him another bright, white smile.

"So can I get you anything? A drink? A few?"

Nice of her to say so, he guessed. "Never turn down a drink. Hopin' I'm here for more than that, though." Because he could get drinks anywhere he wanted, if that wasn't the case. Even if the last time he came here his had been free, he wasn't expecting that again.

"I'm the life of the party, when I can fit through the door," he agrees, cynicism mixed with genuine amusement-- he's pretty comfortable with this sort of back and forth, even if he's the subject of conversation.

"Oh?"

She arched an eyebrow. Was this one of them, then?

"And who told you that?"

She started mixing the drink. it wasn't often she played bartender personally, but he had her attention.

"Gal named Lillium. Nice chick. Gave me my drink for free, after dancin' around a subject for ten minutes." Not that he minded so much, really, at the time. He understood the caution-- at the time, he'd been just as bad. Maybe even worse. "Told me to talk to somebody named Conscientia."

He watched her with little apparent interest of his own, though behind the glasses, he was definitely trained to her face.

Yeah, this is pretty much Riddick being companionable. Enjoy it, Bruce. "Don't have much problem fittin' through the door right now, looks like, so I guess I should be expectin' some excitement about now?"

He laughs, taking a sip of his new soda-- he might as well enjoy it. "I can give you a really thrilling lecture on particle collisions."

Because he definitely wasn't feeling the push any longer, just like when he first appeared here; whatever happened to bring it back is long gone, and he's got to figure out what it is.

"That's about all I can do, here," he adds on, throwing it out there to feel out if the other guy knew anything that would be helpful.

"Yeah, think that's a thing. Nobody who's... not normal... can really do anythin' they used t'do back home. Except, 'pparently, in those holes in that glacier." Which is something to think about, and pretty much makes Riddick think it's not a lack but something specifically controlled by the capitol. Which also means he's glad he's at least mostly normal, and they don't seem to have messed with him any.

Her lips curled up at the mention of Lilium, in an obvious endeared way.

"I guess that means you passed the test."

She slid the drink over and leaned across the counter towards him.

"Welcome to the club."

He smiles against his glass again. "'Not normal' is a pretty polite way of phrasing it."

But this was good-- he had realized it was leaving the glacier that caused the problem, but it was good to know it was the same for everybody, even if it left them in a bad position. "Do they... normally do something like that? Make them come back for a bit?"

"Oh, so there's a club?" Riddick took the drink and leaned an elbow on the bar, himself. "That's gonna be a new thing. Never been in a club. Maybe somebody oughta let me in on th'nature of this 'club'." He could guess, of course, but tonight he was a bit tired of the dancing around. He wanted an answer or two.

And if she was talking opening about it, who he had been invited here no behalf of, she either must have known it was safe, or else knew the risks she took and deemed them necessary.

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Speakeasy Conversations [OPEN]

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