EP - tiny!Emcee

[i_am_your_host]

The door works in the strangest of ways.

So when a certain someone is holed up in his room, his younger self, his much, much younger self, enters the bar.

Small and pale and undernourished, the elfin ten-year-old boy (who could be mistaken for even younger than that) is dressed in secondhand school clothes from a distant era: knickerbockers and knee socks, a cardigan and cloth cap. He stares at his surroundings with large brown doe eyes.

Has he been here before? Perhaps in a dream? Why does it feel so familiar, when the door shouldn't have led here at all?

But this is a pub, and the little boy knows pubs. He goes up to the counter, peeking over it on tiptoes, to look for the barman. But there is none. How odd.

Even odder is the glass of milk and the plate of cookies that suddenly appear out of thin air.

This must be a dream.

Comments

[cottoncandypink]

Milk and cookies! The appearance of the plate seems to attract a visitor. A large-ish red and white dog is suddenly right beside the boy, his tail wagging up a storm as he looks up with big, sad yellow eyes.

He gets a cookie, right?

"Goddamnit, leave the kid alone!" someone shouts from across the bar. Presumably at the dog, given the way he suddenly turns to look elsewhere.

[i_am_your_host]

The boy cautiously steps back a little, because strange dogs can be unpredictable, and stray packs can be dangerous. But at least this one doesn't look feral, and-- someone just shouted at it. He looks around. He doesn't know who.

The boy is hungry but he knows that there will always be someone hungrier than him. Even a dog.

So he breaks a shortbread biscuit in half and tosses a piece to the floor near the dog's feet.

[cottoncandypink]

The same someone can be heard saying "Fuck!" quite loudly from across the room as the dog quickly devours the biscuit from the floor. It's gone by the time the man with the pink handlebar moustache can get there in time. So he settles for glaring down at the dog instead.

Buster doesn't even have the decency to look guilty. He knows what he's done, and he's pleased with the outcome.

"He'll never leave you alone now," Wilford warns the boy. "As long as you live, he'll be bothering you for more."

Buster wags his tail happily.

[i_am_your_host]

A couple of things:

1) The man is speaking sternly in English at him. He knows it's English, but he's understanding it in German. This is very strange.

2) The man has a pink mustache. Is he a clown? He's too angry to be a clown.

The boy processes these things in silence while pressed back against the bar, the rest of the cookie still in his hand.

"He seems like a nice dog, so I thought he would like a treat," he says politely (in German). "I don't mind if he bothers me, but I won't feed him anymore if that is what you prefer, sir."

[cottoncandypink]

Why are all the kids around here so well-mannered? It's creepy.

Wilford might not think the kid was so well-mannered if he knew about the clown comment, but maybe it's good that he doesn't.

"He'll puke on your shoes if you feed him too much. I don't think anybody likes that."

If he's being stern, he doesn't notice it. He's just sick of getting chewed out over his dog being here and making messes. Buster still doesn't seem to care. There's more cookie in sight, and that is all he cares about.

"This some sort of cosplay thing?" Wilford asks, noticing what the boy's wearing.

[i_am_your_host]

The boy has learned the art of tact at a very young age, thus the clown comment goes unsaid.

"Then I wouldn't want your dog to become ill," he says reasonably. The boy is also very reasonable for his age.

Sorry, doge.

He blinks up at the man.

"What is cosplay?"

[cottoncandypink]

Buster is still silently pestering the boy, so he gets dragged out of the way before he gets impatient enough to steal the cookie right out of his hand. There's some complaining from the dog, but then he sits with his back toward both of them.

"It's when you dress up in a costume for no reason."

Under his leather jacket, Wilford is wearing a t-shirt, and some well-worn bluejeans. His shoes might seem a bit unusual as well, for someone who's never seen a skateboard in their life.

[childofrebellion]

Cassian's at the counter drinking caf and looking over his datapad as he's finally back on base. When he sees the boy, he says, "Do you need help?"

He knows children come here, but it still worries him, he remembers sneaking around cantinas in the Outer Rim when he was a boy.

[i_am_your_host]

The boy turns his head and blinks up at the man with big brown eyes. He may appear more helpless and innocent than he really is.

But finding yourself in a bar at the end of the universe can throw anyone off guard.

"Is this for me?" he asks in German.

[childofrebellion]

Bar translates but the accent makes him think of Emcee.

That look worries Cassian, he's seen many of them in his life and his own accent is more pronounced, "Yes, its in front of you. Bar is generous. She likes taking care of everyone."

[i_am_your_host]

The boy turns back to the tall glass of milk and the plate of cookies. It's only been a few weeks since the ladies took him in, but the first glass of milk they gave him was half this size.

He's silent for a moment, before he pulls the plate aside toward the man.

"Would you like one?"

He may be hungry, but he never learned how to be greedy.

[childofrebellion]

"Thank you. My name's Cassian,"

He takes one cookie and takes a bite to show that they're safe.

[i_am_your_host]

The boy is quiet again for a moment. He seems to think a lot before he speaks.

"My name is Hansel."

He even smiles a little, his cheeks dimpling (in a very distinct way), because it's a brand new name he's been given.

"It's very nice to meet you, Herr Cassian."

And he takes a bite out of a cookie, tempering himself to not cram the whole thing in his mouth.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric watches the boy with a little smile, his eyes flashing gold a moment as he recognises who the boy will become. He comes over, all swishing silk skirts and silver ankle bells. "Whatever you desire, you need only ask. The bar will provide."

[i_am_your_host]

The boy, standing on tiptoes with his fingers curled over the edge of the bar, turns his head when he's addressed. And then he drops back down to his heels, his eyes going a little wide. Though his expression is schooled, his eyes betray a sharp but quiet intelligence and curiosity despite the cherubic face.

"But I don't have money."

He's also very practical. And slowly learning that he doesn't have to beg or steal anymore.

[thewidewideworld]

"Nor do you need any." Sinric reassures. "No payments are needed. Not by the young."

He orders a pot of tea and it appears in a lovely silver service with elegant painted glasses. "Would you like some?"

He gestures to the comfortable seats by the fire, carrying the tray with practiced grace.

[i_am_your_host]

He's never seen anything so beautiful. This person must be rich.

"Mama Lily says I shouldn't drink cold things and hot things at the same time or it will upset my tummy."

But he accepts the offer to sit by the fire, carefully carrying his milk and cookies over and making sure not to spill anything when he sets them down on the coffee table.

[thewidewideworld]

"A woman of wisdom." Sinric nods, pouting his tea. "My name is Sinric. What name may I know you by?"

[i_am_your_host]

The boy sits demurely on the edge of the couch, and then remembers to take off his cap.

"A pleasure to meet you, Herr Sinric," he says with a small smile, his cheeks dimpling slightly, as he holds out a hand to shake as he'd been taught. "My name is Hansel."

[starrydome]

He sees the other child and sits still, watching him as he looks around and gets good and drink, his hands paused in the work he was doing.

He thinks it is a child of Men, even though his features are as delicate as those of the Firstborn.

He's never seen a child of Men. Not up close.

[i_am_your_host]

The boy is still preoccupied with the milk and cookies that have suddenly appeared before him. He glances around. Is all of it really his for the taking? Will someone catch him for stealing if he doesn't pay for it?

As he looks around, he catches sight of another child, the likes of whom he's never seen before.

[starrydome]

"You can take it," he tells the boy. His voice carries easily across the distance between them.

"It's a gift."

[i_am_your_host]

And it's a voice unlike any he's ever heard.

A gift? For him?

The boy looks from the plate of cookies back to the other child.

If it's a gift, then he can share it. He's never known another child who wasn't also hungry.

"Would you like some?"

[starrydome]

He thinks it over.
Then he nods.

"Yes. Thank you. Do you want to sit here?"
He shifts his stuff around, making space.

[i_am_your_host]

The boy smiles a little, but warmly and with dimpled cheeks and bright eyes, and he nods. He picks up the plate and the glass of milk and goes over to the other child, setting them down carefully, while eyeing the projects on the table.

"My name is Hansel," he says, inwardly excited to be using his new name. "What's yours?"