milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Amy is in the bar, with ~~a proper entry post for the first time in days~~ tea and scones. She's trying to untangle the mess of thread that used to be her neatly organized sewing box.

Simon Perryvall, who came downstairs with her this evening, is not helping with that project very much. Of course, if he hadn't gotten into the workbox in the first place, it would still be neatly organized.

He is helping eat the scones, but he's a very small squirrel, and she's got rather a lot of scones.

Come talk to her? She'd welcome the excuse for a break, and will probably offer you a scone.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She looks at the jumble of colors and threads and then back at Angel.

"Yes, please, that would be lovely. Would you like some tea, or a scone?"

Angel grins, sets the camera down, and reaches for some thread.
"Tea, sure. I'll pass on the scones for now - maybe later."

Amy pours a cup and tea and places it, the cream, and the sugar in easy reach. There's no lemon. Amy has lemon issues. It's a long story.

She's also fairly curious about the camera. "May I ask what that is?"

"It's a camera," Angel says, adding a bit of cream to the tea. "Basically, it takes very, very detailed drawings of whatever you point it at. I'm borrowing it from a friend, but he... sort of doesn't know it yet. Long story."
Or at least, it's shaping up to be one. Angel will explain if Amy asks, so far as is possible at the moment.

"Oh," says Amy. "I think I've seen the pictures one takes, but I've never seen a camera before." She stumbles over the word a bit, trying to get the feel for it.

She looks at the camera, trying to determine if it's taking "detailed drawings" at the moment, but decides she can't tell.

"He doesn't know that you borrowed it?"

"Haven't had a chance to tell him yet. I mean, I left a note in his room, but... don't know whether he's seen it." Or whether he'll care, the rate things are going.
"He's usually got a camera with him all the time, but something's got him acting a bit weird at the moment. Idiot went and left his usual one out of the bar." For all Angel's not using the politest of language, it's pretty clear that there's affection behind it. "And I figure if he's acting weird, he can't be the only one, and someone might as well be getting the visual evidence."

Amy's eyes get very very wide, and the thread in her hands is forgotten.

"Acting 'weird'?" she repeats. "But just a bit? Has he been for very long?"

"Only in the last day. And... either he's suddenly more musically inclined than usual, or he really is poking fun at his roommate and didn't want to say as such, for some reason."
Angel shrugs. It doesn't seem like a very big deal just now, so the detective work is on hold.

Amy relaxes a bit. If it's only been for the last day or so, it probably doesn't involve Mrs. Rowlands.

She hopes.

"That is a little odd," she says. "But perhaps he's just in the mood to . . . sing? Or play?"

Oh, it's nothing to do with Mrs. Rowlands. Not that Angel knows this, or would know from Mrs. Rowlands, but still.
"It's possible. I mean, he's been known to randomly burst into song anyway. But... even then, he's usually got his camera. I don't know, maybe it's just nothing. 'S why I'm trying not to start investigating just yet. Anyway, I'm gonna give the camera back once Mark comes to his senses and gets the other one, so."

Amy's just a little jumpy, right now, where people acting a bit off is concerned.

"Well, keeping a wary eye on things is probably a very good idea," she says. "It's probably better to worry a bit about nothing than to miss something important."

She turns her attention to a particularly messy tangle of bright blue thread.

"When and where are you from, Angel?"

"True enough." And Amy's well within her rights to be a little jumpy.
Angel reaches for some pink thread that, while not in so bad of shape as Amy's tangle, is still pretty well knotted up. "New York, 1997. Yourself?"

"Phantasmorania, twenty-fifth year of the reign of King Hulderbrand," she says.

She usually explains a little more, but that thread is proving very stubborn.

"You," she says to Simon Perryvall, "are Not Allowed to sleep in the sewing box ever again."

The squirrel chatters in a manner that might be contrite (but probably isn't), and hops over to get a closer look at Angel.

"...Okay, could I get a bit more detail on that when you have a minute?"
A little more explanation certainly couldn't hurt.
Angel looks back at the squirrel and adds, "I wouldn't recommend arguing with her on that one. Sounds like she means it."

Simon Perryvall chatters happily. He's spoiled rotten, really, and he likes people.

"Oh!" says Amy, "I'm sorry. Phantasmorania doesn't seem to exist on most people's versions of Earth, but it's not too far from France. And I don't know how to convert our years to the ones most people seem to use, but . . . well, we don't have electricity. We get around with horses and carriages, when we don't go on foot. But I'm after the King Arthur that exists in my world."

It's the best she can do, really.

"Don't worry about it - your mind was somewhere else. I just needed a little more context."
Angel grins, and takes a few moments to process the new information. "Can't say I've ever heard of the place, but you said it's not on most versions of Earth, so I guess that's not too much of a surprise. And... sounds like you're at least a hundred years before me, maybe a bit more than that."

"Well, I appear to be from well before my friend Anne Shirley, and she's from 1881," says Amy, "if that helps."

A pause, as she triumphantly untangles the blue thread and picks up some yellow.

"Will you tell me a bit about New York?"

Angel's sorted out the pink and moved on to purple. "Actually, it does. Your friend's just over a hundred years before me, so... you might be more like two hundred.
"New York is... well. Huge, and loud, and busy, and crowded, and I can never decide whether it's not as interesting as people who aren't from there llike to think, or if it is and that's the problem. Usually end up leaning toward the latter. Sometimes I miss it, sometimes I don't."

Amy tries to imagine this, and manages a fairly accurate general impression, though the details are . . . off. Accurately imagining New York is hard if you know what a modern city is like, after all. Amy hasn't a hope.

"Oh! Are you Bound, then?"

"Dead. Got no idea what's on the other side of the door these days, but I'm pretty sure it's not New York, so I see no point in trying. Besides, most of my friends from back there have found their way here. It works out."
Angel shrugs. The dead thing's not such a big deal, really.

"That seems to be the most important thing here," she says. "Having friends around. I'm not dead, though I am Bound, and I don't really know what I'd do with myself without the friends I've made here."

"Yeah, I know. I've made some more great friends since I got here, but the group from back in New York is... rather irreplaceable." Angel grins, and moves on to some red thread. "Part of why I'm a little worried about Mark."

Amy looks up from the half unsnarled yellow thread, suddenly quite serious.

"Well, not everyone here is a friend," she says. "Some people are very much not friends, in fact. And strange things happen. Especially here. So some worry is often warranted."

And then she smiles. "I don't really have any friends from home, I'm afraid. Well, one, but I met him here."

"I've been here nearly a year. I know strange things happen. And while I have yet to run across anyone here who left a bad first impression, it doesn't surprise me that there're nasty types around, now and again. But I don't do worrying, unless I have a very good cause to. Never had the time before, and I don't feel like wasting time on it now."
Angel grins. "Well, that's a start, at least."

(OOC: I need to get to bed. Slowtime?)

Amy sets down the unsnarled yellow thread and lets the topic drop.

She takes a knot of four or five different colors and begins carefully separating them.

"Well, I never had much chance to meet people before I got here. And aside from Perry, I haven't met anyone else from my world here."

[ooc: Of course! Good night!]