Owner	Pose
Toro	Thomas Raymond walks into the tavern, the young man looking a little apprehensive. He's actually been here before, a few times, a couple of lifetimes ago - but he was with Steve and Bucky and a few others who also knew the place and grew up near here. Now, it's all changed of course. Cleaner. Nicer. No longer the warren of crime and decadency it was back then. He's a little stunned at first. That mirror was not there. There were not so many beer choices. But.. the general shape of the place, that's stayed the same. He relaxes, a tenseness draining out of him he hadn't realized was there.
Toro	Thomas Raymond walks into the tavern, the young man looking a little apprehensive. He's actually been here before, a few times, a couple of lifetimes ago - but he was with Steve and Bucky and a few others who also knew the place and grew up near here. Now, it's all changed of course. Cleaner. Nicer. No longer the warren of crime and decadency it was back then. He's a little stunned at first. That mirror was not there. There were not so many beer choices. But.. the general shape of the place, that's stayed the same. He relaxes, a tenseness draining out of him he hadn't realized was there.
Daken	Daken doesn't have enough of a perspective to remember what this place once was. He's old, much older than he looks, but not quite as old as Toro's memory of the place. It's a miracle it still exists, but of course, over the years it's changed to keep up. As usual, it's easy to pick out Daken. He's the one dressed in the most simultaneously revealing and frustratingly concealing clothes. Always. Everywhere. As he sees Thomas arrive, he gets to his feet from the barstool he'd been sitting on and lifts his hand to wave in the young man's direction.
Toro	Thomas Raymond is dressed in a plain blue shirt and brown slacks, possibly the whitest most intern-like outfit this place has seen in a while. He waves back as he sees Daken and goes to sit by the man at the bar. "When I mentioned this place, I wasn't sure about it. The neighborhood has changed a lot since I was here the last time," he says as he gets comfortable.
Daken	"Really?" Daken settles onto his stool and leans sidelong on the bar, turning his full attention onto Thomas. "I swear, I'm expecting you to tell me eventually that you're a time traveler. I don't think this place has changed in decades." He still looks so enchanted, as if there's a fascination there that has taken strong hold of his fancy. "Are you one of those people who looks like you're young all your life?" He asks, looking more eager at the answer to come. Not that he'd know anything about *that*.
Toro	Thomas Raymond looks surprised, eyes wide open for a second. He fumbles the bar pretzel he was picking up. "Not exactly, no. I mean, no; stuff like that doesn't happen. Much." He pauses. "No, I guess not. I mean, I'm just um 20, so.." he shrugs. "Um, beer, please," he says, then he looks even more surprised when he's asked about his ID and it looks like he's going to make an issue of it. It's finally shown, and he's denied a beer, so he settles for a Coke. He takes a sip and makes a face. "Can't get used to this.." he mutters.
Daken	Daken leans closer, lowering his voice to a more intimate tone. "It happens *all the time*," he murmurs. "And if you want a beer...I'll get you a beer. I'm a mature, responsible chaperone, after all." That devastating smile spreads slowly over his face, and he turns to the barkeep that just served up that cola. "Hey...I'm good for it. Two beers, please." The pheromones would do it alone, but the pheromones *with* Daken's practiced, cultivated charm? It's too much for an average person, much less somebody here because the pay was good and it was an opportunity to make bank in tips.
Toro	Thomas Raymond shivers a little, getting some of the pheromonal spillover, and he smiles warmly. "Thank you! I do want a beer. Coke without sugar is just... " he shakes his head. He takes the bottle when delivered, pops the cap with a practiced thumb and tastes it. Mmm. "Not bad. This whole crafting thing is cool," he says.
Daken	It's almost alarming that Daken is so charming all of the time, but sometimes it almost seems magical. This time it's not quite so conspicuous, but it's pretty clear that he has some amazing ability to be able to persuade people so quickly and easily. Maybe it's just his pretty smile, or his eyes, or the fact that smells *so good* all the time. Somebody needs to bottle that and sell it, somehow. "I know you can appreciate a good brew." Daken lifts his bottle and sips from it, a little slipping down his chin. He catches it with a couple of fingers and then sucks it off them. "Ahh. Refreshing."
Toro	Thomas Raymond's eyes are mostly on his bottlecap, as he toys with it. "Mostly I've had German ones, but these are really good. They're all so different, too." He glances to the other young man, then to the other inhabitants of the bar, then back to his bottlecap. "I'm not a time traveller, not really, but you'd think I was insane," he says quietly. "And I don't have a lot of friends here, and I don't want to mess this up."
Daken	Daken shakes his head, holding up his free hand. "Don't worry about it! I've been around, Thomas. I've seen a lot." In this world, it wouldn't be so surprising. But the way he says the other man's name is so...deliberate and careful, like he's shaping the words with his lips and tongue. It's even a little warmer around him than it is just about anywhere else in the bar. He's so...radiant and hot.
Toro	Thomas Raymond, in fact, does loosen the top button of his shirt, something Daken has so far never seen him do. He does look over at the 'Thomas' and smiles, and takes a long pull from his beer. "Thanks," he says. "Apparently I can't even get a decent fake ID by myself." He quirks a lopsided smile and takes another drink. "So what have you seen?" he says, raising an eyebrow.
Daken	"I know a guy," Daken remarks so casually, with a little flick of his hand. He laughs, then, and takes another sip before settling his bottle onto the bar top. "Me? I've seen it all. Sometimes twice. Life, death, sex, love, hate, and every little kink known to man. I've seen wars, feast, famine, all the horsemen." Then he speaks in a breathy, airy, shiver-inducing tone. "You can't shock me."
Toro	Thomas Raymond nods at this. "I'm 99 years old. Kind of. I was a teenaged superhero, retired, got married, was murdered in the Seventies, then my best friend resurrected me in the present. At the age when he knew me. So I guess technically I'm a little over 16," he says all in a rush, then finishes his beer and signals for another.
Daken	Daken actually is hushed, even if only for a few seconds. His eyes widen slightly but noticeably. And then, after the silence, he breaks out laughing, clicking the bottom of his bottle against the thick wood of the bar. "Wow. When you say you're gonna surprise a guy, you don't kid around. Ninety-nine! That's crazy. And murdered! I mean...who hasn't been there, once or twice? But yeah...that's kinda...I can imagine. Hey, at least you came back at an age where you have your toilet training and everything, though." He lifts his bottle then, not quite toasting to that, but sort of gesturing before he takes another gulp. "Could be worse!"
Toro	Thomas Raymond looks grateful for the laughing. "Well, yeah, it could be worse. At least now I know to watch my salt intake," he says with a half-smile. He pauses. "You don't seem too surprised, but you don't look like you're just humoring me," he says, a considering look on his young face. "So, yeah."
Daken	"I'm not that surprised. And I'm not humoring you. Actually," Daken lowers his tone again, leaning closer, "I have a thing for older men." Then he laughs again, sitting up straighter. He can make jokes! And sometimes they're even funny, and maybe true. Or partially true; he probably has a thing for younger, older, and every other kind of man and woman out there, if one can make assumptions. "You've got all that experience and a good-looking young body! Just about everybody wishes for that."
Toro	Thomas Raymond flushes red. "Still, um, having to get used to, um, that sort of thing," he stammers, and takes a quick drink. "And, um, thanks." He pauses. "I mean, I read the newspapers-" Newspapers!! "-and I know all kinds of strange things happen these days, even stateside. But I figured it might make a bit more of an impression." He flashes a smile.
Daken	The flush just makes Daken's laughter even stronger and more emphatic. "Right, I thought so. Sorry...I'm just living for your reactions, though. You would not believe how hard it is to make somebody come over all red like that." He idly scrapes the bottle around on the wood, making light sounds with it and the beer inside. "Hey, if it helps, I'll be eighty next year." Then, just like that, he takes another mouthful of drink.
Toro	Thomas Raymond swooshes a little beer around in his bottle and considers that. "And how is that happening?" the young man muses. "You're not Inhuman or an Eternal. Or a Titanian. Or Uranian. Or an Atlantean." He tenses, narrows his eyes. "You're not a freaking vampire, are you?" he says, still keeping his voice low.
Daken	"I heal," Daken simply replies. "*Really* well." And he breaks into his grin, hovering the bottle in his hand about chest-level. It catches the light and gleams for a second before he moves it over slightly, resting his elbow on the bar. "I don't know if vampirism would work on me, but...it's worth a try? Not like I've had Dracula beating down my bed, though. Heard he's quite a looker."
Toro	Thomas Raymond ohs and nods. "Knew a guy in the War like that," he says. To Tom, there's really only one War. "I mean, Cap healed pretty fast, too. And I see he's still around. So I guess that's a thing." Yes, he just picked up that phrase from TV.
Daken	"See! There you go!" Daken reaches over to pat Thomas on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze and a little rub. "So you were in the war." And he can assume which one. "I avoided them. I hit things about when the hippies were around. And the beatniks. I had some *experiences*." The emphasis makes it clear exactly what kind of experiences.
Toro	Thomas Raymond flashes a slight smile. "I didn't get much experience with the hippies; I was a slave in North Korea for most of that time. I did have a couple friends who were beatniks, though. They loved this hole-in-the-wall coffee place. Now, you have coffee places on every corner. And how is that not a exaggeration? On EVERY corner!"
Daken	Daken raises both brows at that, leaning closer. "Man, you got around and had a shitty time, didn't you?" One last pat on the shoulder, and he sits back straighter. "Don't worry. Here on out, we're gonna be kings and live it up. You like to party?" He licks his lips, then nibbles the lower one thoughtfully. "I think there's a party this weekend. If you want to go. Designer everything. You want it, take it."
Toro	Thomas Raymond laughs a little. "I did like to go to parties, but I don't understand the designer thing," he says. "I haven't been to a party in some time."
Daken	"Then it's a date! Come to my place, Friday afternoon." Daken finishes his beer and sets the bottle down, then slides it to the back of the bar. "We'll get you dressed, get you smelling good...and then we'll have the best night you won't remember." He starts to laugh again, leaning to the side to prop a cheek on his hand. "But don't worry. I'll take care of you."
Toro	Thomas Raymond chuckles. "Well, thank you, but I'm not a lightweight," he says. "I'm a good wingman, though. Lord knows I had to be, with Bucky around."
Daken	Daken laughs again, lifting his head. "Wingman, eh? Maybe you'll be taking care of me. Hold my hair if I puke?" He's a very tactile person, very prone to touching, patting, little shows of affection. Of course, they're also easy ways to keep his pheromones, his scent, the most careful and personal things about him, proliferated around himself and whoever he speaks to. He's so easy to talk to, so easy to consider familiar and safe, even if he seems, at the same time, not to be safe at all. "I like you. I seem to find myself in the company of a lot of new people I like, lately."
Toro	"Well, thank you," Tom says, as he finishes his second beer. He's also from a time where physical contact between people was a lot more common but not so sexualized, so touching and such doesn't freak him out. "Yeah, I'll meet you then."