milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Mr. Universe is in the bar, hunched over his laptop as usual.

Come get his attention away from whatever he's doing. Make him eat, maybe.

"Do you?"

As if it's obvious he doesn't. Or something.

Shiftily, "Yes. When I get hungry."

Or when he notices that he's hungry.

"As opposed to six--three times a day like normal people?"

"...normal people eat three times a day? Like, really, not just in the shows on the Cortex?"

He doesn't really have much of a basis for comparison.

"I eat six times a day in smaller portions, actually."

"You have time for that?"

"Not much else to do here, really."

"Sure there is. I find stuff to do, anyway. But... I don't think they had computers in 1919, did they?"

"Well, there was the war." He makes a face.

"But that is over now."

Mr. Universe blinks, almost sure he's missed a step somewhere.

"What about the war?"

"That was what kept me from regular meals for a few years?"

An arched brow.

"Oh. I thought you were saying it had something to do with computers."

"Ah...no."

Right, that made no sense at all.

"Right."

He looks, rather, as though he'd like to get back to his machines. They don't confuse him.

Lawrence would rather like to get back to his maps.

So he nods his head. "I should be going, of course."

"Okay. I'll... see you round, I guess."

"I should suppose so. Not many places for me to be." He grinned and slipped back to his maps, drink still in hand.