milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Shadwell is lurking by the bar, trying to get some service in this heathen place.

He's really craving a nice cup of tea, but he'll settle for anything that doesn't feature the blood of virgins.

[OOC: If anyone would like to explain the "magical bar" concept for him, go right ahead-- but please can it only be the first person to tag? Love you all.]

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Shadwell eyes her back.

She could well be a witch.

Then again, she could also work here.

Or those two COULD BE THE SAME THING.

"Aaaaye," he says, very slowly and suspiciously.

Of course she could be a witch. Any woman could be.

That makes them worthy of eyeing.

Lucy eyes him yet again. Eyeing squared, as it were. "Well...what do you want?"

And again, the eyeing is reciprocated.

Cubed, shall we say.

"Tea."

It's somewhere between a challenge and a threat.

Lucy's eyes decide there are better thing to look at than possibly deranged older men, and study Bar instead.

"Tea, please?"

And it appears.

He jumps back (which is more like a stagger with an energetic limp), eyes widening.

"Ye-- what manner o' thing is that?" he exclaims hoarsely, after several unprintable profanities.

"...Earl Grey?"

Maybe he's an herbal man.

His eyes narrow accusingly.

"Ye conjured it! Worked your foul witchcraft righ' under me own nose!"

Lucy...just stares.

"What?"

Oh, aye, lookin' all innocent. He sees right through that.

Sadly, one thing that he does not see through is her blouse.

"Deny it, do ye?"

"Yes, I deny being a witch," she splutters, and her mun is grateful for the opacity of such things as blouses.

Shadwell nods grimly.

He'd been expecting that.

"Up wi' yer shirt, then," he growls briskly.

"...Are you out of your bloody mind?"

Staring.

Arms crossing across her chest.

"Ha!" he says triumphantly, pointing. "Ye're afraid t'ave yer nipples counted."

"By you? I'm utterly terrified," arms VERY FIRMLY still crossed over her chest.

"There a problem, Lucy?"

Cousin Eustace to the rescue.

Cue Lucy jumping behind Eustace.

He is totally going to be sacrificed, if need be, for the sake of protecting her breasts from this crazy man.

"He thinks I'm a witch and wants to count my nipples!"

That's a "YES THERE IS A PROBLEM AND IF YOU DO NOT MAKE HIM GO AWAY I SWEAR THE SUITORS I HAD TO GET RID OF IN NARNIA WILL BE THE ONLY ONES CAPABLE OF SYMPATHIZING WITH HIM."

British reserve goes out the window when her chest is at stake.

Shadwell glowers at Eustace, apparently in an attempt to glower at Lucy via x-ray vision.

"Don't ye go listenin' to a word she says, lad," he warns, finger waving righteously. "Tricksy bugger'll bespell ye afore ye can say 'firelighter'!"

Eustace blinks at Lucy.

A lot.

And then frowns at Shadwell.

"Why are you, er, interested in my cousins chest?"

"I am not a witch, you lunatic," she says in frustration.

Still from behind Eustace.

No, she is not coming out. Possibly ever. Eustace will have to walk in front of her at all times. BECAUSE THERE ARE CRAZY MEN ABOUT.

"Oh, aye?" he says. "I'll wager ye can't even shed tears."

"Now, look here! Lucy is a respectable lady, and you've no call to be accusing her of such things as witchcraft."

"You'll be crying if you try to look at my chest," she threatens.

This may not, technically, help the "respectable lady" defense, but REALLY.

"Lucy, is it?" Shadwell says triumphantly. "Short for Lucifer, maybe? A cunnin' plan t'fool the rest of us God-fearing folk and ensnare us in yer nets o' sin?"

"..."

He shoots Lucy a look that can only be described as WTF?

"Just because I dated his son does not make me the Devil!"

Did Eustace know that? Um.

Oops.

"It's not short for anything, because I am not a witch or Satan, and you are out of your mind!"