It was rather tough being an alien rockstar on Earth. If it wasn't a day filled with screaming fangirls, it was having to sneak out of his own home to get any alone time at all. Of course his manager would be furious to know that Ziggy was not in his flat, where he was safe from the crazies that wanted to hunt him down. After his one kidnapping fiasco Roger had kept a tighter watch on Ziggy. 

However, since he had been able to sneak out, he had decided to travel to a little pub just down the road from where his London flat was. The food there was excellent, as was the booze, which Ziggy could not turn down. When he arrived he ended up taking a seat at the bar, sticking out like a sore thumb as he had decided to wear his multicolored, quilted, jumpsuit. His red boots kicked lazily at the barstool underneath him as he looked over the menu for what felt like the fifteenth time, all while sipping at a gin and tonic.

In town for a gig, David had strolled out of his lavish London home to visit a local pub, one that had always been one of his favorites and just so happened to be a few blocks from his penthouse. Careful not to be seen by one too many people, David made his way down the streets, ducking in and out of alleyways and taking several short cuts he had come to know. When he caught someone looking at him for a little longer than deemed normal, he turned his head, pretending as if he forgot something and walked down the path he had previously taken.

It was always a chore and a half to be out in public and though he didn't mind when people recognized him, he wasn't always up for signing autographs or partaking in idle chatter about his music. After what seemed too much of an ordeal for a simple meal and beer or two, David finally arrived at the pub, swinging the heavy door open and flicking his now burnt out cigarette into the street.

Ziggy was humming absently to himself, one of his hands propping his face up as he waited for his food to arrive. He'd fallen in love with this country, especially their fish and chips, and he had to have fish and chips at least once a week, simply because it was so delicious. His boot continued tapping against the barstool gently and he swirled the mixing stick around his drink a few times. He was hardly feeling buzzed, which was a shame. If his night continued like this he would have to finish drinking at home, and that would be pathetic.

David entered the bar, scanning the room and ascertaining that he knew most of the inhabitants. This was good. At least now he wouldn't have to be bothered with screaming women or adoring, flamboyant men wanting to get him wasted so they could drag him their poorly furnished flat and have a little fun. He waltzed over to the bar, taking a seat at the far end and flashing the bartender a smile. "How's it going, Horace? The wife treating you well?" He carried on a small conversation with the portly gentleman, ordering a glass of scotch and continuing to converse about one another's personal lives while Horace made his drink.

Ziggy cocked a hairless brow when he heard a male voice at the other end of the bar. Not very many even attempted to learn the name of the bartender, but this man knew it, and seemed to have an amicable relationship between the bartender and himself. Ziggy took a sip of his gin and tonic before raising his head and scanning the bar. Eventually his eyes settled on the man seated at the very end of the bar, who was chatting up Horace like they were very old friends. Ziggy had to admit that he was rather intrigued, so he returned to staring down at his drink, trying to listen quietly to their conversation.

David let out a few chuckles as Horace spoke to him, cracking jokes about the going-ons in his pub and even telling him a story or two about young women going wild over his music playing out of the joke-box in the corner. "Well, I am definitely glad I wasn't present on any of those nights. I love my fans dearly and am appreciative of them, but they can get a tad to rowdy for my taste." He took a swig of his scotch, his mouth twisting into a sour expression for only a moment before it settled on a smile again.

Ziggy lifted his head again and watched the man carefully. He could swear that he knew him from somewhere, and then it hit him. That was David Bowie. Ziggy had to bite back a slight squeal of excitement and he looked back down to his drink. David was one of the reasons why he even came to Earth in the first place, and here he was, in one of Ziggy's favorite pubs. It was terribly exciting.

David continued his conversation with Horace for a short while, telling him stories from the road and shooting small remarks to some of his other friends in the pub. He had finished his scotch and was now working on a second. Horace had made his way down to the other end of the bar while David chatted on with two of his close friends.

Ziggy finished his gin and tonic, and had half eaten his meal before he finally worked up the courage to move a little further down the bar. Horace had given him another, only this time with slightly more gin, and Ziggy stood, before moving so that he was only two barstools away from the man.

He had seen a rather oddly dressed man moving closer to him out of the corner of his eye, but payed no attention. To engrossed in his current conversation to bother with yet another flamboyant gentleman wanting to get in his pants. After the conversation ended, rather quicker than David had wanted, he bid his friends goodbye and watched as the exited the pub. He continued to nurse his scotch, glancing over at Horace and pulling out his cigarette pack. "Horace! You portly bastard. Mind if I light up in here? It's bitter outside."

Ziggy's thoughts were whirling, attempting to find anything that he could use to start up a conversation with the man. However, his brain was not being a help, and was instead throwing random tidbits of information about the man at him. Though at his point Ziggy didn't need to know the man's place of birth. He took another sip of his gin and hummed softly to himself as he attempted to sort something out.

Getting approval from his chubby friend, David immediately placed a cigarette in his mouth. He glanced over the bar at the man that he moved closer to him earlier in the evening and shook his head, noting that he must have been a fan trying to think of an excuse to speak to him. Wanting this night to end rather shortly, David decided he would speak first. He sat back in his chair and began to light his cigarette as he spoke. "If you're planning on sitting there until you find something interesting enough to talk to me about, don't bother." He took the cigarette from his mouth and snickered a bit. "I'm not really as interesting as the media makes me out to be."

Ziggy looked up at the man and cocked a hairless brow. "If you say so." He shifted in his chair and watched the man carefully. "Though it does surprise me that you don't recognize me, though such a big name as yourself shouldn't I suppose." Ziggy sipped his gin before speaking again. "Ziggy Stardust." He said simply.

David nodded and flashed his conversational companion a bit of a smile. "Ah, so you're the up and coming lad I've been hearing such rave reviews about." He took a large gulp of scotch and made a slight face at the taste. "I had thought you looked a little familiar. You know my managers have been screaming at me to get in contact with you for a while now. Drabble about 'it's good for my image' and what not. But, I didn't want to pester a star in his prime."

Ziggy chuckled and nodded. He shifted again and placed one red boot on the stool top next to him. "Interesting." Ziggy said simply before downing his gin. With his second one finished he set the glass down and tapped two of his fingers next to the glass, signaling to the bartender that he wanted another. "I would not have thought of it as pestering though, simply as a welcome distraction."