(no subject)

[battle_butler]

There is an Alfred sat at the bar.

He's enjoying a full English breakfast.


[OOC: Hey, I'm back! Here, have a post-canon Alfred]

Comments

[runningred]

Jay comes in through his door, dragging more than wheeling a rather trashed 1930's Norton ES2 motorcycle.

He leans it against a wall and comes over to the bar to order a drip-tray and a mug of coffee. And a cloth to get the grim off his hands. He gives the older gentleman a polite nod.

[battle_butler]

Alfred nods back to the younger man. When he sees the drip tray and cloth, his eyes wander over to the motorcycle by the door.

He's not so crass as to talk with his mouth full, but a simple eyebrow raise and the way his eyes wander between the cycle and the younger man seems to ask the question what's the story here?

[runningred]

Jay's a Bat. He's use to translating non-verbal commentary. "Call it a rescue. The previous owner didn't have the means to repair it so I bought it off him."

[battle_butler]

Alfred smiles, "No time like the present, is there?"

[runningred]

Jay can't help but smile. It's something Alfred might say. "That's it. There are an awful lot of beautiful bikes littered around the smaller villages in Cambodia. All in as rough shape as this. The communities need new bikes. And myself and another mechanic here are always looking for projects."

[battle_butler]

Alfred finishes a last bit of his breakfast before pushing the plate away, whereupon it vanishes into the bar.

"Sounds like a worthy project, care for an assistant?" Alfred says, getting up.

[runningred]

"I'd never turn down an extra set of hands. If you don't mind helping me grab the other one from just outside the door and dragging them down to the workshop?"

He props open his door to wheel in a 40s BSA in not much better condition. "Are you a rider, yourself?" He almost adds sir out of respectful habit. Squire seems to have rubbed off on him.

[battle_butler]

Of course there's another one. He grabs the Norton and starts manoeuvring it towards the garage/workshop.

"I used to, in my youth. It was, necessary, at times." He's more aware of his mortality these days. Not that the bat-bike wasn't fun to work on, but he was quite happy to let Bruce test it.

[runningred]

Jay leans them down in the lift, wheeling the bikes to his workshop. Three other similar bikes are lined up, along with a handful of brand new Honda CT110.

He gestures Alfred to park the bike anywhere. "Thanks for that. I prefer British bikes, myself."

[onceholyknight]

The door opens and Michael steps in.

Today's one of his better health days, which means he isn't leaning quite as heavily on his cane as usual.

[battle_butler]

Alfred glances over to the door as it opens. He nods at the man that enters, assessing him rapidly, before turning back to his meal.

[onceholyknight]

Michael nods back and approaches the bar, sitting on a stool.

"Hearty breakfast you've got there."

[battle_butler]

"I was missing home, and you can't get a proper English breakfast for love nor money on the Riviera"

Such a terrible hardship, living there, it really is.

[onceholyknight]

Michael nods.

"One of the great things about Milliways. You can get any food you've got a craving for."

He doesn't know much about the Riviera, but he understands missing home.

[battle_butler]

"And whenever you want, too. Because who knows what time it is beyond your door, it doesn't matter here."

[onceholyknight]

"Yep. Even if it isn't breakfast time here, nobody's going to judge. Not with so many stranger things to see around here. I'm Michael, by the way."

[battle_butler]

"Alfred, and that's certainly true enough of this place."

It's nice to relax and not have to worry about Bruce any more, especially when he's here.

[littlegreycells]

Poirot does not, as a rule, eat anything like a full English breakfast. But he knows one when he sees one, and thinks of the many times he watched Hastings indulge in such things. So he takes notice as he enters the bar for his own breakfast.

And nods at the man eating the full English breakfast.

[battle_butler]

Alfred returns the nod with decorum, taking in the style of the suit and trying to place it.

[littlegreycells]

"I have not seen a meal like that in some time. It brings back memories." His accent sounds French to all but those with the most discerning ear.

[battle_butler]

"I haven't had one in some time. And one not cooked by myself in even longer."

Alfred's ear, while discerning, is not trained to linguistics enough that he would pick the difference.

[littlegreycells]

"You are a chef, monsieur?" That would of course be the first guess.

[battle_butler]

Well naturally.

"No, I was the butler, ostensibly. But, after a reduction in staff, I took on other roles as well."

Like, all of them (save gardener).

[littlegreycells]

"Ah. But you are retired now?" No butler would ever dress so casually. "I had a butler in my day. George was quite capable till the end."

[battle_butler]

Not on duty, no. Alfred pulls himself up, and stiffens his posture in a way that seems to say I could still be.

"The time was right to move on." Never mind that Bruce was 'dead'.