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 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!"

"Then how," Shadwell demands, shaking with righteous wrath, "did ye conjure up the tea?"

Are you kidding? Eustace doesn't even know his cousin and his best friend are dating.

Eustace folds his arms and glowers at Shadwell. "She's told you repeatedly she's not a witch. I suppose she asked the Bar."

Oh yeah. Someday he should really, y'know. Find that one out.

"I would have told you that if you hadn't demanded I lift my shirt up." The curse that's muttered under her breath is one she heard from sailors on the Dawn Treader, and one most people who know her would probably prefer to believe she didn't know.

He glowers uncomprehendingly.

"Ask the bar?"

The bar is eyed now, as if maybe a witch is crouching behind the counter.

Eustace rolls his eyes.

"Yes. Try it yourself. Ask for something."

"I hope she gets your order wrong," glowering over Eustace's shoulder.

He glares suspiciously at the three of them-- Eustace, Lucy, and Bar.

"Not tryin' to trick me into incantatin' a spell, are ye? Makin' me sign the Devil's book in me own blood, an' the like?"

". . . What are you on about? She just serves drinks."

Bemused -- "D'you think we should get a doctor or something, Lucy?"

"Why, do you have a particular hatred of doctors today?" darkly.

She's been mistaken for Satan and told to flash a crazy old man.

She's allowed to be cranky, she feels.

Shadwell obstinately refuses to get near the bar. He thrusts a hand into his pockets, coming up after a moment with a suspiciously slimy tin of condensed milk.

"Ha."