At Pierceson's Tonight

With a melodramatic squeaking of hinges, the door to Pierceson's Bar was slammed closed by a panting and frantic newcomer.

"Nobody go out there!"

From beyond the closed door came a series of snappy explosions, accompanied by neat flashes of light. Some of the patrons in the bar; regulars, tried their best to look shocked and surprised. A few were relatively good at it. Kitty Mistwood probably gave the best performance, by bursting into tears and running to the bathroom.

As she passed by the thick granite bar area, where Jonquille Drayton was working, she gave him a quick wink and a smile. Jonquille gave her a thumbs up. She always outdid herself with each new patron.

For his part, Jonquille chose not to react at all anymore to the occasional chaos that would play itself out behind the reinforced walls of Pierson's. His interest wasn't in that sort of daytime drama anyway.

His time to shine was now. In the role of the sympathetic bartender: yours truly, Jonquille Drayton.

"Say, pardner, you look a little shook up, can I beer ya?"

The newcomer, in the process of surveying the world outside through one of the bulletproof windows, turned his head around so quickly that he lost his balance and fell over.

"Excuse me?! A beer?! At a time like this?!"

"It has been known to be quite a tonic."

Another explosion, loud and begging to be the center of attention, boomed in the streets. Jonquille paid it no mind as he tossed a bottle of whiskey, caught it, and poured it into a glass behind his back, using the weight of the liquid in the glass to inform him when to stop.

Dexterously, he pranced over, grabbed the newcomer's hand, and placed the drink in it. The newcomer stared at the drink like he'd never seen one before.

"What is this?"

"Whiskey, pardner. Drink it straight, for the nerves."

"Oh no, oh no I don't, uh, I only drink water. And Gatorade. No wait, just water, sorry."

Jonquille had to consciously fight his eyebrow, which had an annoying habit of running up his forehead whenever he was surprised by something.

Gatorade. That was different, Jonquille had never heard of that. The newcomer handed the whiskey back and Jonquille tossed it back. He took the empty glass and smashed it under his black leather cowboy boot.

"Here pardner, here, come and sit a spell at the bar with me, and we can suss out a drink for ya yet."

With one arm around the newcomer's waist, Jonquille led him to the bar. Carefully, he scooted the man onto one of the tall, red leather bar stools. The pockets of the man's jeans, studded with small plastic spikes, caught a little, and tore some small veins in the new leather.

The batwing employee entrance behind the bar swung open and Macaiah Pike sauntered out, as handsome and remarkable as nuclear sunset. His short black hair curled around his ears, and his walnut brown eyes hid themselves as much as they could behind a combination of Macaiah's pink rhinestone cowboy hat, and his long black eyelashes. Jonquille involuntarily ran his tongue over his lips when his coworker entered the bar.

The newcomer cleared his throat.

"You know, I'll take you up on that water now."

"Course you will, pardner, course you will."

Jonquille slid across the bar and fetched a glass. As he went to the tap, another booming explosion made its acquaintance with Pierceson's. The lights flickered off and on bashfully. Jonquille rolled his eyes. Of course, despite Pierceson's importance to the government, no contractor had ever been sent out to see about faulty electricity. Jonquille would have to file another work order.

There was a gentle patter of fingers against the back of Jonquille's neck. He smelled Macaiah; pepper and lavender and a soft chuckle of rose played at Jonquille's nose. The smells he knew and loved.

"Why hi, pardner. I thought you might be in bed for the rest of our days."

Macaiah bit the skin on the back of Jonquille's neck.

"I am a man with a work ethic, babe, you know that."

Macaiah watched Jonquille deliver the water to the new bar patron. When Jonquille came back over to where his boyfriend was standing, he noticed Macaiah's expression was studious.

"Say, look at that necklace that guy is wearing, babe. Looks like kind of a giveaway, doesn't it?"

Jonquille hadn't really noticed it until Macaiah brought it up. But upon closer investigation, the necklace could definitely be another tell beyond the newcomer mentioning "Gatorade".

The necklace was a little blue metal heart shape. The heart design had gone out of style one hundred and seventeen years ago. As the landscape got drearier and drearier, wearing heart themed clothing and jewelry seemed like the punchline to the world's worst joke.

There was a self-conscious pop! And the lights went out.

Considering the time of day (always four in the afternoon when the explosions were going on), the lack of artificial light wasn't a real problem. What could be a problem was if this newcomer really was a time traveler, as his attire and speak might suggest, then the call button wouldn't work without electricity.