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Player Name: Kris
Are you new?: Yes
Character Name: James "Sawyer" Ford
Character Fandom: LOST

[ He's been in the village a few days now, not the type to raise a fuss right away and start demanding answers, not until he's got a few things figured out for himself, and not until he has a better grasp of what he's dealing with. He spends a lot of that time trying to figure out what the hell kind of place he could've ended up in to have wings on his back. For a little while, he wonders if he's dead, but he remembers where he was right before he woke up here, and that seems unlikely. The fact that this could be a real place, and he's stuck here, is somehow harder to swallow, though.

Eventually, he does need some answers, and that means talking to other people, which is why he winds up at the Good Spirits Bar. People tend to be a little easier to warm up to in a bar, in his experience. ]

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[It has been, in a word, a shit week. And while she has grown more and more aware of how many of her coping mechanisms for stress are starting to line up with her ex-husband's she figures just one night of drinking to relax won't kill her. She'll just abstain for the rest of the month.

There are a few new faces in the bar- most newcomers to the village tend to find their way here if they are of an age. Adele breezes by, winding her way to her usual stool.

Which is taken.

Merde.

She'll just take the next one over. That wobbles. With no hook next to it for her coat.]

Whiskey- neat.

[ He's staring down his glass, swirling the liquid around before taking a sip, when a lady takes a seat next to him. Hearing her order, he glances up, and then almost chokes on his drink. But he recovers quickly, not betraying too much on his face, and sets his glass back down. ]

What the hell are you doin' here, Juliet? [ What the hell are either of them doing here, more to the point? And while it's possible she didn't notice his face until just now, either, he's puzzled at her lack of recognition. ]

[Not the least creative line she's been spun, and not the most original either. She snorts and looks at the man sideways.]

Trying to enjoy a drink in peace, Romeo.

[Low, a touch rough, and accented. This is not the blonde you are looking for.]

Romeo?

I ain't--

[ But the accent catches him off-guard. How in the hell is this possible? Someone who looks exactly like Juliet, but clearly isn't her. This will take some time getting used to, but he recovers quickly on the surface, his expression sliding from confusion right into a nonchalant smirk. ]

Well, that sure is a hell of a thing. Trust me, sweetheart, that wasn't a line. You just look like exactly like Juliet Burke; you might say she's a friend of mine.

[Well that was unfortunate. Sharing a face with someone this man knew- she'd gone through quite a shock earlier in the week with Clint. To a point, she can empathize. Well. She can empathize entirely, more than enough to up her whiskey to a double and order a second one for him. And to ignore the endearment. Just this once.]

Merde, but they do love this little trick, don't they?

I am not your Juliet, Monsieur. My name is Adele LeBlanc; and I've some measure of experience with meeting someone that looks exactly like a friend of mine, yet isn't.

[ He breathes out heavily, and it almost sounds like a humorless chuckle, as he leans over the bar a bit. ]

Well, I gotta say, this has just been a swell week. [ He is, of course, being entirely sarcastic. He turns his head to look at her. ] Adele. You can call me Sawyer. [ He's not sure he can handle hearing her call him 'James' at the moment. ]

Just wait until the first experiment. It gets better.

[Low, dry, and just shy of biting. Her ire isn't directed at Sawyer though, it's no fault of his that he's here. That he knows a woman that resembles her.]

Mm. I think I prefer Romeo. Sawyer is a bit to literary for me at the moment, if you don't mind.

Don't tell me about it, it'll ruin the surprise. [ He says this with a reasonably straight face, too.

Of course, he's just not sure how much worse things could get, really, so perhaps he's underestimating things. ]

Guess you could call me worse, so I can manage with Romeo. [ He takes a hearty of the whiskey once it's set down in front of him. ] So, what can you tell me about this little paradise we seem to be stuck in?

Even with forewarning everyone is surprised.

[She lifts her glass to him and downs half in one go. Starting strong? Yes. Has she earned it? Most likely not. She doesn't care. Explaining the nuances of their pretty little prison always leaves her irritated. It's better to self medicate beforehand.]

Mmm. That depends upon what you wish to hear first. There are the kidnappings, the shifts, the cycles, our minders, the various power plays that happen at least once a month in the village proper, the drafts and then, well.

[Propping her elbow on the bar and with something close to a conspiratorial smile, she murmurs.]

Then there are the vampires.

[ This time when he laughs softly, there's almost a look of genuine amusement in his eyes. He really shouldn't be amused, not given everything she's just told him. But it's so absurd, so seemingly unfathomable, and there's really no other way to cope at the moment.

The whiskey is a great help, though. ]

I just ain't got in me to be excited about vampires. [ He jokes, though he does meet her smile with a smirk of his own. ] Still just too excited about the damn wings to care about anything else right now.

[There are days when you can laugh or you can cry when it becomes too much. More often than not it's easier and healthier to laugh. Wrapping one's head around what this place was- what it could do, what it would do? Laughter is the best way to keep sane.]

Just stay out of the woods come night. If you are brought to my clinic bleeding because you were mauled I will give you the appropriate injection of morphine- then I will point and laugh.

[And she's the nice doctor.]

The wings, well. They can be... exciting if you aren't careful.

[ Even just saying the word 'vampires' feels so unreal. Granted, he's spent the last few years of his life on an island that has shifted through time, harbored polar bears and smoke monsters and various other threats, human and otherwise. He's used to strange things, but he's not used to waking up on the side of a road with wings coming out of his damn back, suddenly far removed from all the people he's come to call friends.

He'll be needing another whiskey soon. ]

So that bedside manner don't apply if you go lookin' for trouble, is that it? [ It's interesting that this woman is a doctor, too. A different kind of doctor than Juliet, from the sound of it, but a doctor nonetheless. ] Juliet, she's a doc, too. Fertility doctor, handles all the babies.

[ He takes another sip of his drink. ]

How exciting, exactly?

I did say after you were given the requisite injection of morphine. I laugh at idiots, yes, but I'm not heartless.

[And oh now that's a funny little twist of a coincidence. The woman with her face helps other women have children, while it's highly unlikely that Adele will ever be able to have one. At this point she doesn't want one, but it's still amusing.]

Trauma surgeon. I handle all the bloody and broken. Occasionally the dying.

[She shrugs, rubs a hand over her eyes.]

That depends. I haven't sorted out the physiological whys of it just yet but if you lose one? You become gravely ill. Lose both and you die. Pulling a feather is much like being punched in the stomach- alternatively if you treat them gently at certain...moments I have been told that their inherent sensitivity can be employed in the bedroom.

I ain't always the best patient, but I sure as hell ain't eager to do anythin' that's gonna wind me up in your clinic, either. Some folks go lookin' for trouble, like they got somethin' to prove, or...nothin' to lose. [ He shrugs, taking another sip of the whiskey. ] Don't care, or they don't know better.

[ She has Juliet's face, and they're both doctors of a sort, but of what he's gathered so far, that's where their similarities end. And rightly so, obviously, since they're completely different people, even if it was unnerving at first. It is, at least, getting easier to separate them in his head. ]

So if you lose one...it ain't comin' back? How's that work?

Apathy and ignorance. Two of my very favorite traits in patients.

[Ones that pop up more often than not in her own world- a little less often here. People are either more cautious or less accident prone. One way or the other it's a comfort to not have to worry about it as often.]

It will grow back in time. The process is lengthy and painful.

Must keep you busy, lotta folks ain't in short of supply of either. [ He says darkly; and must be extremely frustrating, and that's obvious by the tone he detects in her voice. ]

That ever happened to you -- losin' a wing, or gettin' a feather pulled?

And people wonder why surgeons are driven to drink.

[She snorts and shakes her head. More often as of late than she used to. It's not healthy.]

I have never lost one, nor has that happened to any that I'm aware of in the village in my time here. I've bruised a wing, though, and lost some feathers. It wasn't pleasant.

Right now, I ain't inclined to leave the bar much. [ Which also isn't healthy, but there's a lot to adjust to, and some of it is so much easier to just delay, to numb everything and deal with it slowly, on his terms. ] Well, you don't gotta drink alone, if that helps.

[ He leans back against the bar stool, and pushes his now empty glass out of reach. ]

How long you been here?

Most aren't once they've sorted out what this place is. As much as anyone can at least.

[She finishes her glass as well and spins it in a slow, idle circle over the worn wood.]

Almost a year now, I arrived in January. In the middle of the woods. Finding my way to the village was an adventure.

I've been here a few days, just kept to myself while I got things sorted out. [ Bearing mind that obviously there were some things he was just not going to be able to sort out on his own. ] Sure is nice to find this place.

[ With a glance to her empty glass, he offers: ] You want another? I got no money, but...they run a tab here or somethin'?

Mm? Ah, no need.

[Her smile twists into something wry.]

That is the perk of this place. You will want for nothing- food, drink, shelter, entertainment, education, save your freedom. There is no currency here. Just...take what you need and don't be a greedy ass about it.

[ His own smile is a little mischievous in return, and he gestures for two more glasses. ]

Well, I can't make that kinda promise. [ His tone is light, though, indicating he's obviously not entirely serious. Even though he's fully aware he can be a greedy ass, or...was a greedy ass, at one point in his life. The 'ass' part is still true, on occasion. ]

If you're a productive enough member of the village people might ignore it.

[Though that depended entirely on how he was productive. She couldn't get a read on him and honestly? She didn't want to. Tonight was for casual company.]

[ Productive. No one would've called him productive on the beach, not in those early days after the crash. All he cared about was himself; not truly, but he made sure everyone believed that nonetheless. ]

I'm head of security, back where I come from; ain't much, but...I seem to do all right. Don't know how productive that is.

We've a few areas that villagers might find more secure about if we had proper security available. It does not happen often but I know there have been a few fights in the clinics- and it is never a bad idea to have someone keeping an eye on some of the more valuable resources.

[That is, though, if he proves himself trustworthy to the village at large. Which may or may not be the case.]

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