The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

[okteiviakom]

Octavia had been in something of a strange mood since she'd left Turtle & Canary earlier today. Thinking about wings and chance and change and a handful of other things she wasn't sure she wanted to actually be thinking about.

She wasn't listening too closely to the music playing over the sound system, and maybe that was for the best.

She was mixing herself a mocktail for practice, and for something to focus on. The Devil's Nest was open.

[ooc: OCD freee because I just fought off a headache.]

Comments

[existencemisspent]

Eliot loved Margo dearly, but the "woo!" girl thing definitely got tiring fast. So he left her to hopefully sleep off the rest of whatever had happened to her while he went out to explore this weird town they'd landed in.

By . . . going to a bar, yes. Look. He hadn't had a decent cocktail in months, okay?

". . . Is that an axe range?"

[okteiviakom]

Octavia looked up at the newcomer. Her eyes flicked to the axe range - still at least halfway blocked off - and back to him.

"Yeah," she rasped.

What? It was a simple question, it merited a simple answer.

[existencemisspent]

Eliot nodded slowly. "Well. I suppose I should just be glad there's no sawdust on the floor. Or talking animals slinging drinks."

Bristlyfoot the bulldog had made quite an impression upon Eliot's first arrival in Fillory.

He came up to the bar, brushing off his cloak with an idle flick of his wrist. He'd left the crown at home, but was still dressed in his royal Fillorian garb otherwise. It'd likely be a day or two before he got his hands on a proper waistcoat and trousers.

"Hi," he said, resting one beringed hand on the bar. "I would like whatever you might consider to be your signature cocktail, please."

[okteiviakom]

Octavia raised her eyebrows, just barely.

"So... That's gonna be a beer."

Just ignore the obvious cocktail in front of her on the bar. Just ignore it, Eliot.

[existencemisspent]

"Okay, that's just not acceptable." He would not ignore that cocktail, Octavia, nice try. "Who made that, and can they make me a drink, please?"

[okteiviakom]

"That one's just for practice," Octavia drawled, glancing at the cocktail.

... And then relented. She was doing a job, here, right? "But I can probably make you a Jack Rose."

[existencemisspent]

Eliot made a show of considering this, then nodded. "Not my favorite, but it will do. By all means, proceed."

He was definitely not going to be critiquing her technique while she did so.

. . . Out loud.

[okteiviakom]

Yeah, well, Octavia pulled something up on her phone before even getting started, so there was probably plenty to critique, and she didn't give a damn.

Though as out of practice as she was, she was focused and meticulous about putting the drink together. Slower than someone who didn't have to consult instructions, but still.

Finally, she garnished the glass with a lemon twist, and slid the glass over. "There."

[existencemisspent]

Eliot watched all of that without comment, then picked up the glass and took a sip. His brows went up and he nodded.

"You have potential," he decided. "Accuracy being the most important factor in mixing a cocktail. The showmanship can come later."

[okteiviakom]

"Thanks," Octavia deadpanned, as dry as the Sahara.

[existencemisspent]

Oh sweetheart, Eliot could deadpan with the best of them.

“You’re welcome.”

He took another sip and settled onto a bar stool, sweeping his cape out of the way as he did.

“I’m Eliot.”

[okteiviakom]

It wasn't a competition.

"Octavia," she said, with the tiniest nod, picking up some glasses to put them where they belonged. "You're new." Probably? She'd been gone for almost two months.

[existencemisspent]

He was best friends with Margo. Everything was a competition.

“Just arrived this morning. You’re . . . a local?”

[okteiviakom]

"Probably," Octavia said, shrugging a little. That wasn't a very straightforward thing for her. "By... eleven or four years, depending how you want to count it."

[existencemisspent]

"Eleven . . . or four," Eliot echoed slowly, nodding. "I imagine there's quite a story there. I'm guessing . . . time travel?"

[okteiviakom]

"Repeatedly," Octavia said. A little dry.

The glasses had all found their place. She glanced down the bar but nope, that was all done, too. Guess she could pick up her abandoned mocktail again.

[existencemisspent]

Eliot nodded. Sipped his drink. Considered what, if anything, to respond to that.

"I've technically died, like, 40 times."

There. That would do.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia quirked one eyebrow, just a little bit. She didn't seem phased, but had the courtesy to eye him up and down for a second.

Though maybe that was because she was finally paying attention to what he was wearing.

Anyway, that took a second, and her eyes returned to his face. "Doesn't seem to stick."

[existencemisspent]

"That it does not," Eliot agreed solemnly. "For which I'm usually mostly thankful."

Look, he tended to operate on his best of days with the assumption he'd die by the age of like 35, okay?

[okteiviakom]

"Usually?" Octavia drawled.

Like she couldn't help herself.

[existencemisspent]

And mostly!

Eliot hadn't smoked much since becoming Fillorian royalty -- mostly because Fillory didn't have much in the way of tobacco -- but he found his fingers itching for a cigarette as he sipped his cocktail again.

He always liked to combine nicotine and whiskey.

He nodded faintly, expression bland.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia knew that look well enough that she didn't prod any further than that.

Even if that left her thinking about wings again. She took a long sip from her own glass. "Well, you should do okay here, anyway."

[existencemisspent]

Eliot raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh?"

His "welcome to Fandom" greeting so far had been a pie to the face, and his best friend speaking almost entirely in "woo"s.

[okteiviakom]

Octavia shrugged again.

"This place is weird," she rasped. "A friend of mine who shouldn't have wings just randomly woke up with them today." Yes, this implied someone who should. "If you got here this morning, odds are you've already seen something similar."

[existencemisspent]

"The woman I'm here to rescue has shrunk three inches, sprouted scales, and developed the personality of a reality star wannabe so . . . yes," Eliot said. "And here I thought perhaps we might leave the whimsical bullshit behind if we left Fillory."