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He notices Cora and laughs a bit to himself, "NEVER piss off a french guy that has the ability to flay the skin from your bones. Very very bad idea. I'm fine, just a bit dusty and wood-chair-splinterings covered. Ah, no matter, how have you been?" The fact that he could have died no more than moments before isn't going to drag him down, especially not with Cora around.

Tac strentched a bit, cracking his neck with a yawn before placing Cari and Orcus within their respective holsters, snapping the leather strap in place to keep them from falling out. He shut his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, holding it a moment before letting it out slowly, "Ah, nothing like a little break from reality. Can I get you anything to drink? I feel the need for a good Cherry Limade, I'd have something with a bit more of a kick, but back in my world I'm supposed to be on duty, could vanish at any time, then I'd have to deal with an angry frenchman while drunk. If he didn't have these wierd eyes and a bigass gun I could likely handle him drunk...no offense to the French, but they're all useless."

He shrugs, "Iunno, but most people think the French suck, so they suck, so people think they suck. I think its a peer presure thing. The world wants them to suck, so they live up to it to please the world, but then the world hates them because they suck. Its a cycle." He popped around behind the bar, rumaging through various things, putting a thing of crushed ice on the counter, a couple cherries, an actual lime, and then a small pitcher of an extremely light green or cloudly clear liquid. He popped back up, "Would you like one? Its not wine and it's not alcoholic, but I like it!"

He popped back up again with a bledner thingie, tossing in the ice, some lime juice, and a bit of lime rind. He stabbed one of the cherries as the blender slushed it up a bit, adding in a bit of cherry syrup from under the bar, but not too much, it was supposed to be mostly natural for the flavor, but it always seemed to need an extra cherry kick. He produced two cups and put a wee bit of extra crushed ice in each, dropped in two stabbed cherries in each, and then added the cherry-limade mixture. He put a straw in each and swirled them a wee bit. He slid one across the bar and raised his hands in triumph, "Ta-Da! Cherry Limade a la Tac!"

He nods his head as he takes a sip, "Indeed, its something like that. I just like it because of the taste thats both kinda sour and kinda sweet. Lime! Cherry! Hooray!" Despite the whole threat of death no more than ten minutes before, he's in an extremely good mood. After he took another sip he set it down for a moment, leaning over a bit and resting his elbows on the counter, supporting his chin with criss crossed fingers, his head bobbing up and down as he talked, "You know Cora, you ought to come back to my world again sometime. Maybe not the exact time I'm from, maybe just a bit before, couple decades or so."

He shrugged, "Nothing in particular, though I did spend some time growing up in those times, it was the time were these particular drinks came from, if I'm not mistaken. Things were quite a bit simpler back then, and money went alot farther. Less need for a police force, things were...more serene in many places. There was more peace. Not like today, mafias and gangsters walking the streets like they own the world. If it were in my power I'd stop them all,...somehow. In my time, Crime pays...and ti shouldn't. I'm only one man among billions...theres little I can actually do..." He blinks several times and perks up again, taking another sip of his Cherry Limade, "So! What'dya say? I even have a few things in mind we could do while in my world's past."

As Cora begins to fade he shakes his head, "One man cannot do anything against millions. I'm sorry I asked...maybe another time then?" But she was already gone. He stared at her unfinished drink, muttering to himself, "I'm not running...I just want to be with the only person that ever notices me without trying to kill me anymore....I just want to be happy again."He slumped down behind the bar, leaning against the shelves under it, one knee pulled up to his chest while the other laid sprawled out to the side, bent with the fot pulled back towards him. He hung his head, staring at the open space of floor between the bend in his leg, right arm curled up over in front of his head, hand resting on the back of it, which was facing up. The left arm was supported on his left knee, teetering there as it hung mostly limp.