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Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center, Tuesday

The Help Wanted sign was sitting in the window. The open sign was turned. There was a dog sleeping by the door, and a baby making noise at the desk. All in all, that part of Tuesday was as it always went on days Cable chose to open the shop himself. Nothing new.

What also wasn't new was the fact that he was currently on the phone with Miss Merryweather, discussing one thing or another.

What was new was the part where she wouldn't stop making jokes about the weekend. "No, Irene. Can we please move on to something a little more relevant--?"

[[ open ]]

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But don't mention the weekend.

Captain Price arrived pretty early in the morning. He wasn't quite jet-lagged, but... he was a little ahead of the usual time schedule.

He paused when he saw Nate.

"...interesting," he said. "Are you the proprietor?"

"Irene, I'll call you back," he said, clicking off the phone (and the gales of laughter still coming through).

Five seconds from facepalming, people. "I am," he said, "Cable. Can I help you with something?"

"I hope so," Price said, wondering when it became Halloween again. Poor guy still wasn't entirely aware of the reality of the island. "I was under the impression you might have a job opening. And I was hoping you wouldn't require a work visa."

"Unfortunately, multiversal work visas aren't really easy to enforce," he said, dryly. "Too many dimensions..."

"Good one," Price said, thinking the man was joking. "Captain John Price of the SAS, at your service sir."

His eyebrows went up. "You're a long way from home, Captain."

"Haven't been home in over five years," Price said. "Part of the reason I don't have any proper identification."

"Sounds like a story," Cable replied, sizing the guy up.

"Mostly a top-secret one," Price said. "But I can say that I spent most of that time in a Russian prison camp."

"And now you're looking for a job," he inferred. "I don't need a work visa, Captain Price, but while I can't go for a full background check, I'd appreciate it if you managed to get me some kind of identification."

He could go for a full background check. It just involved some painful and not entirely ethical (not that that bothered him in the strictest sense of the world) use of powers.

"Was afraid you'd say that," Price said. "I've got a uniform, that's the best I can offer. I didn't exactly have time to pack up my birth certificate and platinum card before coming here."

Sometimes, he really missed Gareb.

"I'm not trying to be paranoid," he said (that just happened naturally), "but you realise that seeking employment in a weapons store is going to need more than your word..."

A thoughtful frown, there.

"I do understand," Price said. "And you're more than welcome to investigate my public record. John Price, born in London, February sixth nineteen-seventy one. If you find any information about me being a war criminal, I hope you'll take that with a grain of salt."

Hello, eyebrows. "Mind telling me why I should take it with a grain of salt?"

"Because it was declared by a mad American general who started an international war just so he could make himself a big damn hero," Price said. "And I'm one of the few people who actually knew the truth."

"Your world sounds pretty eventful," he said, dryly. "I take it the war's over?"

Unless they were dealing with a refugee, here. Which was... interesting.

"In a manner of speaking," Price said. "Time has yet to tell if it will stick."

"Most times, it doesn't," he said, leaning back. "So if I check your background and it come up clean... I've got Tuesdays and Fridays open. We can talk more detail on the next go-around."

"Wait a minute," Price said, pausing. "How the hell are we talking about the war like you've not even heard of it before? We set off a bloody ICBM over DC!"

"Captain Price," Cable said, matter-of-factly, "You've arrived at a multiversal nexus. It's going to be a little... tough... to accept, at first, but there's a lot of people who won't know the world as you do."

"Right. This has something to do with the mutant alligator business I heard, I suppose," Price said. "And why you look like you're ready for a fancy dress party."

"And yet there's not a party in sight..." he mused. Caught between unamused and amused, which... you couldn't tell for the deadpan. "I take it you're from an Earth, though, Captain."

"Great, we're bringing little green men into this too, are we?" Price said. "I'm not sure where else I would be from, mate."

"You'd be surprised," he said, pulling a slight smile (mostly developed for PR purposes). "I'm personally from this planet's future. Well. With a few technicalities."

"Right," Price said. "Well, if you're from the future, then you should have no problem checking my record."

"Not at all," Cable replied; it was the iron-clad truth. For once. "See me on Friday and we'll see if I'm willing to hash out a contract."

"Friday," Price repeated. "I can accept that. I'm staying over at 23 Griffin Way, in case you need something before then."

Mod your meditation, or ask Cable for help.

But only with prior permission.

Baaaah.

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Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center, Tuesday

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Meditation Room

Shooting Range

OOC