milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Random is not back in the bar, although at first glance it may look like it. That's because his kid is in the bar.

This is the adult, non-kidnapped version of the boy, though, and the whole new memory reconciliation thing hasn't happened yet.

Which is a way of setting the plot in the open, as well as a mild warning that snark involving leprotic camels may be in the offing if you annoy him.

Martin has food.

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Liir has food as well.

His food might not be the same food as the food that Martin has, but he has food and that's something. He does, however, peer curiously at Martin's food.

Mostly just to look. There's nothing specific about his interest.

Martin's food consists of Greek salad, Kota Kapama, Galaktoboureko, Pastitsio, and Melomakarona, with a jug of Mastiha.

Martin likes Greek food. So does his player.

Liir has never even heard of Greek food. He's never heard of Greeks. He's never heard of Greece, but his first question would probably be just how far Greece was from Kansas.

"What's that?"

"Greek salad, Kota Kapama, Galaktoboureko, Pastitsio, and Melomakarona, Mastiha."

Isn't that helpful? His voice is bland and dry, although he does point at each of the dishes as he identifies them.

"Brilliant," he answers, his own tone somewhat flat. "That would be very helpful if I spoke whatever language you're speaking."

"Greek, actually."

Says the green-eyed bastard without looking up from his meal,

"Chicken Ragu, Custard filled pastry in syrup, pasta-meat casserole, dessert bread, anise liquor."

"Well, that's a bit more helpful," replies the green eyed bastard. "What's Greek, then?"

"A country on earth known for sexually over-endowed gods, good cooking, and beautiful women."

This is Martin's take on the place, anyway.

"Is it close to Kansas then?"

...we did warn you.

"No."

Martin is unimpressed. This should come as no shock.

"As if I'm supposed to know of the Other World like it was in every schoolboy's books."

Not that he'd ever gone to school. True, his mother had been brilliant in her way, but she'd abandoned her own education and not seen Liir as worth the trouble of educating while such matters were in her hands. He'd learned from the Home Guard and from life, but such lessons seldom included geography.

At this Martin does look up and says quite mildly,

"I have no idea what Shadow you are from, and I don't care. You could always ask the bloody Bar for books on such things. There are more than just two Shadows, after all."

"I've got problems enough without asking for books," he says, somewhat cross. Then again, it takes very little to make Liir cross. Breathing can usually cover it. "And I've no idea what you're on about with this 'Shadow' business. Of course there's more than two shadows. By the Nameless Name, boy o, even I've got more than two shadows."

"Shadows. False worlds. Reflections of the true world. Earth equals a Shadow. Your world equals a Shadow. You equal a Shadow. I equal an Amberite."

He says between bites of lovely, lovely Greek food. Which he doesn't offer to share.

"You've mentioned three or four things that all sound like absolute codswallop. I'd still like to know where that food comes into it."

"That's purely because your concept of the world could fit into a fairly small thimble with room left over. Get a fucking cookbook and give it a whirl. Or an atlas. Or both."

He raises an eyebrow.

An atlas.

And a cookbook.

"Aha. Insane. Won't waste my time then."

And he turns to his own food.

Martin rolls his eyes. Children calling him insane. He understands Julian at times like this.

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