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Luke's Saloon, Sunday

True enough, Kanan was a drifter right down to his very soul. The fact that he had his airship docked in a place he could easily access at all hours of the day or the night was a testament to that. But even a drifter lifestyle, moving from one town to the next with a gun on his hip and his eye always on the next destination, needed funding. And, while the lovely lady Hera often had enough work to keep him busy, the pay for working with her was less about money and more about the satisfaction of her company, the sound of her voice speaking in that French accent that drove him halfway around the bend all on its own, and, he supposed, the knowledge that he was doing some right in the world, for a change.

And so he had a job at the local saloon. It wasn't anything fancy. The wages were decent enough to get by on and it kept him in food and drink for those days that he was tending the bar. And, if he was being honest with himself, he had a respect for the owner that came almost as much from the other man's experience as it had from the fact that he'd been willing to give him work here in the first place.

Today he was standing behind the bar, casually wiping down drinking glasses with a rag, listening to something rag-timey on a player piano across the room. He'd glance up and offer a casual nod to anybody coming through the batwing doors, William Bass puttering around the room courtesy of his little jetpack, keeping a glowing eye on the patrons.

Today's Food Specials:
Chuckwagon Stew
Baked Beans
Roast Loin of Mutton

Today's Drink Specials:
Whiskey
Claret Sangaree
Sarsaparilla

He had almost poured himself a whiskey, but a moment's thought of Miss Hera and the job that she was arranging for him had him putting the bottle back down and reaching for a sarsaparilla, instead. The sticky bubbly stuff quenched his thirst in this heat just fine, anyway.

[OOC: Open old-timey saloon is open!]

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For all your day drinking, swinging doors, don't-you-dare-miss-that-spitoon-in-the-corner needs!

Of course he's here to be spoken to. He's the damn bartender. Where else would he be?

He's wearing the deep green vest and white sleeves look very well today, but is itching to throw his long coat and floppy-brimmed hat on at the end of his shift all the same.

Rick's "leaking universe" theory put Summer in an interesting spot this weekend. On the one hand, she was super into it on a very subconscious level, but then she'd get caught every once in a while on this hyper-awareness about what was going on, since it was only her and about half of her surroundings that were influenced by it. She would have called Kanan anyway, really--Fandom weirdness didn't change frequent important rituals with your besties, after all--but she was really curious and unsure as to what the heck she was going to get.

If he wasn't balls-to-the-wall gone, she was going to be so disappointed. But, if he wasn't, hopefully he'd at least have a few stories of people who were.

So, grabbing the good candlestick phone from the living room (the one with all the extra gears), Summer went to head upstairs to her room for privacy, only to be jolted back by the restriction of the spiraling cord. Criminy, what was this, the early '90s?? So, reluctantly, she plopped onto the couch, took the five hours it took dial Luke's on the rotary, and then kicked up her sweet ass boots while waiting for (hopefully) an answer on the other line.

"You've reached Luke's Saloon, finest baked beans this side of the Causeway."

Yes. Yes that was a drawl he was speaking in. Possibly for effect. Probably for effect. His accent tended to switch itself up depending on the job, this weekend.

"Ohmygod," yes!

Sure, the accent threw Summer off just a little, but there was no way that wasn't Kanan.

"Howdy, BDG," she said, BDG obviously standing for buggy driving gentleman in this case, "how's your weekend going?"

Want to get thrown even more for a loop? The accent that Kanan was speaking in when he let down his guard and slipped back into his more comfortable one right now was British.

"Summer?" Of course it was Summer. Who the bloody hell else would call him that? "It's going well enough so far. Well, I've been keeping busy, at any rate. Airships don't maintain themselves, and all. And you? Getting anxious to be finished with all that schooling yet?"

And, see, this was why it sucked that her cell wasn't really working right now, because at least with texting you didn't have to worry about getting a hernia from trying to hold in your laughter.

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Summer said. "I've been ready since day one, but, never fear, the end is finally in sight!"

She would have put in a grand, sweeping gesture to match the dramatic lilt of her voice, but...well...the phone required both hands, so...

"I'll finally be able to start focusing on starting that saloon of my own! Hey, you know, that doesn't have a bad ring to it. Summer's Saloon. Got the whole alliteration thing going on."

Kanan gave an easy chuckle into the phone, keeping an eye open for customers. None so far, and if today was going to stay slow, then he'd be quite happy to just keep chatting for a while.

"Assuming you set yourself up in a part of the world that has an appreciation for that sort of establishment," he replied easily. "Were you thinking of serving alcohol along with your gelatin dishes? Saloons," and cantinas, "tend to come with a certain expectation, after all."

"That is true," Summer reasoned, thinking it over. "Perhaps I shall consider it; it's not like gelatin and alcohol don't make a great combination."

Yes, indeed, she certainly had many, many fond memories (and a few not so fond) of sucking down teeny-tiny confections of the two at fancy (and not so fancy) soirees...

And then a few other details caught up with her and she sat up. "Wait, does that mean you guys are serving alcohol there today?"

Why did she miss all the good stuff??

"Wait times two, do you guys even have, like, the registrations and permits for that kind of thing?"

See? She was paying attention in some of those classes!

"Of course we are, and of course we do," Kanan said, after a long pause. "Just as we always have. Are you feeling quite alright today, Summer? It sounds to me as though the schoolwork is getting to you, there."

A certain fish clank-sparked its way by courtesy of a little jetpack, and Kanan lowered the reciever long enough to say, "Not right now, William, Summer and I are speaking."

"Right," said Summer, though she rolled her eyes a little. "Of course you have. My brain must be fried a little from all that studying I'm one hundred percent totally doing. Also, I think my little head-set thingy," she had no idea what to call it, but she attempted to wiggle it into a more comfortable position, "is kinda tight today."

Not so tight that she didn't pick up on whatever was going on on the other line.

"Oooh, who's William?"

WAS HE CUTE? Would he introduce them??

"He's... William," Kanan replied, squinting a little. "William Bass? Top hat, monocle, little jetpack?"

Big horrible mouth full of sharp teeth. Scales... William was hurt, Summer. Truly. You didn't know him?

"My assistant?"

Normally his nightmare.

....Yeah, sorry, William.

Summer was wracking her brain, the little clockwork on the side of her...headplate thingy working overtime.

"...Chop...per?" she ventured cautiously.

And then realized that meant giving herself the image of Chopper with a top hat, monocle, and jetpack and nearly melted on the couch from cute overload. Doubtful there'd be any pictures to commemorate the event, so she would just have to do a recreation next time she was on island, yes....

"No, but close, I suppose. Chopper is Miss Hera's automaton. William is a companion far more befitting of a part-time pirate, I'd say."

There was another long pause, and then Kanan added, faintly exasperated, "The fish, Summer. William's the fish."

Who he had totally always had and didn't just find himself with a Big Mouth Billy Bass thrust upon him by a wrathful Skywalker only a few days ago, really.

First off, Summer was hopefully going to remember that befitting of a part-time pirate part and use it as much as she possibly could in the future.

Secondly, did you enjoy being able to hear, Kanan? Because you might have some trouble with it once Summer blinked, processed, and then let out a squeal totally befitting this news and everything it entailed.

"YOU GOT THE FIIIIIISH!"

This was, of course, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass from the kitchen, because Beth had chosen just that moment to pour herself a glass of wine, and then she came charging into the living room, expecting the worse if it was going to pull a scream like that from her daughter. "Summer! What is it? What's wrong?"

"The fish!" Summer cackled in sheer delight. "Mom! He got the fish!"

...and now Beth was going to give her daughter a very strange look, and slowly back away, not sure whether she should check if any of those gas lines that had sprung up overnight were leaking or if Summer was just wake-and-bake-ing.

There were so many things about this that Kanan was never going to live down, weren't there?

"Yes, I... have the fish," Kanan agreed, once his ear stopped ringing. "You're welcome to visit to see him if you care to, he isn't exactly going anywhere."

Since he was following Kanan around everywhere he tried to escape.

He'd come back from the moon. Not that Kanan currently knew to be horrified about that.

Hernando had finally found his way to Luke's. He paused outside. This looked nothing like a diner, and he was quite certain that Eliot had said 'diner', as had the business directory.

Pushing his way through the batwings, he glanced around for Eliot and found Kanan instead. He was pretty certain that one of the K-names had mentioned that Kanan worked here; at least he was in the correct place.

"Kanan, how are you, my friend?" he greeted on his way to the counter.

{oops}

Kanan glanced up from where he was polishing out a large drinking glass and gave Hernando an easy smile.

"Can't possibly complain," he replied, his accent decidedly more, uh, drawl-like than usual. "Business isn't so busy I can't keep up today, the stew's half decent, and there's plenty of sarsaparilla. And you? How's island life been treating you so far?"

"It brings more and more delight each day," Hernando beamed, "I am very glad to hear you are doing well. May I get a glass of sarsaparilla, please? It is grown in Mexico, did you know?"

"You know, I didn't?"

But at least he actually knew a few things about Mexico, this weekend. That was a nice change of pace. Kanan smiled and reached for a clean glass, and then filled it for Hernando.

"Learn something new every day."

Nodding while taking the glass, Hernando replied, "Oh yes. The leaves are steeped like a tea, which has only the partial taste but many health benefits. The root bark is the part used in the fermented soda beverage." He took a sip and smiled with approval, "I had quite a sweet tooth as a child and drank very much of it."

"I never had many sweets when I was younger," Kanan mused, settling back to resume wiping out that one. Same. Glass. Possibly forever. "Figure I'm making up for lost time now. Which just means it's fortunate we've got so much in supply. Does it get the Hernando seal of approval?"

"So you have mentioned to me before. I apologize that I forgot," Hernando said, taking a sip. "It does, my friend. This is very good soda."

Hernando had seen his fair share of Westerns. Kanan's trope amused him quite a lot.

"How was your fight on Tuesday?"

It was possible that Kanan was just repeating himself. It wasn't as though he remembered any of their previous conversations properly, anyway.

They all had a coppery veneer over them, for a start.

"Tuesday?" Kanan paused and thought back on the events of Tuesday evening, the crowd, the bare-knuckle throw-down in the smokey tavern cellar, bets flying around on the winner... "You know, overall it probably could have gone better. We left a little early, I'm going to have to remember to have a few words with the man in charge next time I go. But I don't know that it was a dealbreaker. The exercise has been doing me good." He tilted his head a little. "Kaidan's been talking to you about Tuesdays, has he?"

Hernando chose his words carefully. "He mentioned that you had been going to his gym lately. I have been bringing him to dance lessons on Monday, and he said his Tuesdays were already full."

Kaidan had said a hell of a lot more than that. That was not, however, Hernando's to disclose. He was more or less checking up on Kanan to make sure he was doing alright.

Yeah, if Kanan had been the slightest bit aware of what else Kaidan had let slip about him, there probably would have been more than a few words about it.

"Dance lessons, huh?" Kanan paused, trying to picture that. "... How's that been going?"

Look, he knew the way Kaidan fought, but for some reason, trying to translate that to dance moves was making his brain stutter a little bit.

"Better than he thinks, less well, perhaps, than I would like," Hernando said, not even trying to hide the grin. "He moves well enough when he listens to the music and follows Rosalie's lead, but when he starts to think about the steps.." He shook his head. Kaidan was capable of some truly awful klutz.

"It was more a way of giving him a.. a positive stress relief valve," Hernando added after a moment, "also maybe some more exercise that he gets more than an hour or two of sleep at a time."

Enjoy those bus tires, Kaidan.

Kanan actually paused in the perpetual motion of glass-washing for that one, yeah.

"... I kind of figured that might have been a problem," he admitted. "He stopped by my place the other night because he couldn't sleep. I'm pretty sure we ended up talking for a few hours."

There had been crying involved. Possibly. Not that Kanan would ever admit to it, even to himself. Besides, they were busy throwing Kaidan under that particular stagecoach, here.

"I wasn't sleeping anyway," he added. "William was in one of his moods."

He nodded toward The Fish, now with a shiny steampunk makeover, a little top had and monocle, and a teeny tiny jetpack, puttering around and throwing the occasional spark as he supervised the patrons.

That had been one of the things they'd talked about. While he hadn't convinced Kaidan to have a person present in his apartment to drunk-sit, he had at least managed the phone part.

"I'm glad he is talking to you, also," Hernando said easily, as if he weren't aware that they hadn't been talking about Kaidan's issues. "He seems to have a great deal of respect for you."

Hernando smiled at the fish, "Hello, my floaty little friend. I see you have entered into the spirit of the style as well. It is good to see you again. I hope you have been well?"

Kanan gave a vague shrug in reply to that. He never quite knew what to do in the face of suggestions that people might look up to him. And he knew it was something he'd said he would work on, especially since Kaidan had called him out on it on Wednesday, but...

Well. Old habits and all.

William was puttering right on over to play a little tune for Hernando, some tinny music box plinking somewhere inside of him playing something that sounded suspiciously like Don't Worry, Be Happy.

"William here has been fine," Kanan offered. Because of course he didn't remember trying to lose the damn fish on the moon on Thursday or anything. Of course not. "A little more enthusiastic than usual, maybe. Not entirely sure why."

Because William hated you, Kanan. With the icy passion of two hundred frozen krabby patties.

"I am glad to hear you've been well," Hernando addressed the fish. He smiled when it started playing music, "Very nice. It is a good song."

"It is nice to see someone taking such good care of him," Hernando continued after the song was over, "It seems some people in his past did not. He was in quite a state when Zack and I won him. It took days to peel the wreckage off and fix his skin. Why anyone would be so terrible as to set him on fire, I do not know." He paused and felt bad for being uncharitable, "Perhaps it was an accident."

It wasn't an accident, Hernando. Nobody but you liked the fish.

Except maybe Zack, who seemed to like everything.

"Perhaps," Kanan replied, looking thoughtfully at William. "I suppose most people don't generally know quite how to handle him. He takes a certain touch."

Often with fire. Or bullets! Bullets had been attempted, too.

"That's probably why he likes you so much," he added. "You took the time to help him out, and now look at him."

He was horrifying. He was vicious. He was a goddamn deep sea nightmare crafted out of bronze and wearing a monocole.

He was the best.

"He is very nice," Hernando said loyally, "but I was not the only one to help. Zack fixed his eye for him."

It was a pulsating green nightmare eye, Hernando, and only you could love it.

"It is nice to see he has a friend in you as well."

"Well, of course," Kanan replied, reaching a hand out to pat William on the head. "Really, it's difficult to picture a time without him. He's kind of grown on me."

In fairness, Kanan was remembering having the fish for far longer than the fish had actually been in his possession. There were pirate adventures and everything.

"I am so very glad to hear that," Hernando replied warmly, "When you received him, well, you looked less than pleased about it, I think. I am glad you have learned to see him for the wonder he is."

"Huh." There was a moment's pause while Kanan thought back to that fateful day. He was not remembering it at all as it had gone down, no. He was specifically remembering winning it in a poker game, after all. "I must have been having an off-day."

Or he'd just been handed a demon fish by Skywalker on the grounds that Skywalker found him annoying.

One of those things.

"Well, we've settled in together pretty well since. He's mighty fine company."

... I mean, it's limited OOC. This is just here so the world doesn't end.

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Luke's Saloon, Sunday

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OOC!