milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There is a Lawrence.

He is half-slouched on the couch with a flat surface in front of him, idly scribbling on a grid-type paper with coloured inks. He is in fact making a map.

Yes, from Memory. It will be surprisingly accurate.

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"No, I would suppose not. One of the reasons, perhaps, that I prefer guns over such things. I assume your world does not have these things."

"I don't even recognise the word," Terence agrees.

This is happening a lot.

He produces the Colt .45 Peacemaker (http://i13.ebayimg.com/01/i/02/fd/88/bf_2.JPG) from his waist holster and offers the thing to Terence. It's unloaded for safety here, at least.

"This is a gun. Or a type of it."

Terence takes it awkwardly, and runs his thumb along the patterning at its edge. "What does it do?"

"It shoots. Much like a crossbow, but at a more rapid speed."

He draws out a small bullet from his robe pocket. "This. It shoots this very quickly."

"What damage could --" when Terence takes the little piece of metal from Lawrence's fingers, he stops. It's remarkably heavy.

"It is very small, yes. But it is also very dangerous."

He rolls up the sleeve of his robes, exposing the small white scar that is somewhat jagged and rough-hewn across his forearm. Its twin is on the other side -- it tore through the entirety of the flesh.

"You see?" He rotates his arm rather slowly. "Deceptively dangerous."

Terence nods, slowly; it looks rather like particularly nasty crossbow injury. He turns his own arm over. There's a series of long, thin red and white lines across the inside of his forearm. Sea-serpent.

He might have moved a quarter of an inch away from Lawrence. Lawrence is taking a rather disturbing pleasure in showing off his scar.

Lawrence is ~~totally enjoying~~ simply displaying them for Terence to see and understand.

And he'd be impressed by the scars on Terence's arm if he knew where the bloody hell they came from. So...

"Where the bloody hell did you get something like that?" His eyebrows have surely almost disappeared into his hair by now.

"Sea-serpent," he says. Matter-of-factly. "Nuckalavee, that was his name. Twelve heads, and twenty arms. Three mouths on each head, and more teeth than I care to think about. And the heads were illusions, so we had to swing where the heads weren't -- hardest battle we've ever fought."

...
......

Okay, he's trying really hard not to laugh. Not so much because he doesn't believe Terence, it's just that the serpent sounds so absurd. He manages to swallow his laughter after a moment and simply arches a brow toward Terence.

"That is rather impressive, isn't it?" He finishes up the border to his visionary Arabia on the map with a swish of pen.

"I was not aware, of course, that sea serpents had arms. You learn a new thing every day, I suppose."

"It was the Test of the Sea." Yes, with capitals.

"Not all of them do, I think. Although I'm not certain."

"Was there a Test of the Sand?" He seems rather hopeful of this.

Because that would be cool.

"No. Road, Sea, and Gate."

His lips purse in a slight frown.

"How unfortunate."

"I assure you, they were quite difficult enough. Why would Sand have been preferable?"

"Sand is always preferable to anything else."

That is, of course, a perfectly acceptable explaination.

"Indeed."

He arches a brow and orders a whiskey from the waitrat passing by, pausing.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Thank you, yes. Do you have any suggestions?"

"I have become rather partial to whiskey, myself."

And Lemonade, but that was rather less alcoholic.

"Then I'll try that."

When it arrives, he takes a sip, and starts coughing.

"That's...rather strong."

The smirk does not leave Lawrence's face.

"Yes, that is rather the point." Aww, he's kind of cute when he's coughing. He gives Terence a light slap on the back.

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure."

He glares, through the water in his eyes. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll make it a little weaker, thanks."

The glare makes the smirk widen. He's a smartass, most of the time.

"I don't suppose it's much my business, really." He takes another sip of his own.