milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"Go on and tell her, I'll take care of the rest," William laughs as he opens the front door and then stops. The last time he was in here, things were still off, but there don't seem to be any of those symbols about and its warm.

He takes a quick breath and then goes to the counter, he never did write that letter to his father about how the drive went. Now he can add that a poem Mark wrote is good enough that the teacher's sending it into a paper. Mark is going to have a way out of Bisbee and a life that's more than just being a rancher.

Along with his pen and paper, he gets a hot chocolate heaping with marshmallows as the nights are getting properly cold not the wrong sort of cold.

(OOC: Recycling EPs for the environment and to keep me busy on election night. Open for ages.)

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"Doest thou have maggots, swimming in your drink?" Poins asks, astonished at the chocolate.

Edited 2012-11-06 23:35 (UTC)

William makes a face, "Hell no, I wouldn't have it if it did. They're just made of sugar. Bar, could you give him some marshmallows?"

A napkin with a few marshmallows appears in front of Poins as William pushes his drink away. He's going to have to take a break to get that image out of his head.

Poins pokes them.

"Sugar?" he says. "They feel like mushrooms, or sponges."

"They're sugar just with somethin' done to 'em to puff up."

Poins gingerly will eat one, and his brows go up.

"See, and when you put 'em in somethin' like hot chocolate, they melt and taste even better,"

The marshmallows in his hot chocolate have almost completed melted, which is good. Now they won't make William think of the horrible comparison this man made.

"Is that a drink that makes one drunk?" Poins asks.

"No, it ain't just one that tastes good."

Poins ponders.

"I think I'll try one, still," he says. "What is it called again?"

"Hot chocolate and you can put the rest of your marshmallows into it."

Poins does so, stirs, and drinks.

"Tis hot, but good!"

"Yeah, that's the idea. It's good for a cold night."

"It's sweet and filling," Poins says, approving.

"Yeah, it's one that I've always liked. You could add liquor to it if you wanted to."

"It is fine as it is," Poins concedes.

William nods and returns to his own drink.

"What time and world does this come from?" Poins finally asks.

"Most of 'em. I don't know where it started from."

"Thou hast it, then, in thine?" Poins says.

"Yeah, but don't have it very often."

"Is it expensive, or rare?" Poins asks.

"Expensive and I live out on the frontier where we don't get it as often."

"The frontier?" Poins says. "The Welsh border, is it?"

"No, anyone told you about America yet?"

He's not sure when this man is from other than early.

"No," Poins says. "Who is she?"

"Not a person, but a place. Where and when are you from?"

"The year of Our Lord, fourteen and twelve," Poins says. "The place is Eastcheap. London. England. Earth."

"Yeah, you're about four hundred years after me. I'm from the land to the west over the ocean from you. Don't think its been discovered in your time yet."

"From the far Indies where the pepper grows and war is fought with mighty elephants?" Poins asks.

"No, not from there. Bar, could I have a map?"

She presents one that's from between their two times and William points out where Arizona is.

"For sooth, it is new lands were there were none before!" Poins says, astonished.

"Yeah, they were found when folks were lookin' for those spice lands."

"Were they but newly made, by Grace of God, as gift to all mankind, added anew to the old map of overflowing earth?" Poins asks.

"No, they've been there, no one sailed far enough west to find 'em."

"Such great lands have lain fallow for all the history of our creation?" Poins says, shaking his head.

"Na 'xactly fallow cause there were the Indians there an they've fought us for every acre."

"Indians?" Poins says, confused. "Didst thou not say that it was not the Indies?"

William flips through the book to find a black and white picture of some American Indians,

"These sorts of Indians."

"I know not if the Indians that we know would look like that," Poins says, "I never saw one!"

He goes through the book once more to find a paragraph that explains how America was found in search of the Indies,

"There, read that."

Poins does, for he can read, unlike most people in his time; he even has some Latin.

William gets another hot chocolate and goes back to writing his letter. The man can look at the book all he wants.

And Poins will do that, fascinated, learning about the history of the world -- after his time.

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