milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The number of Amberites in the bar has gone up by one when Fiona walks in. Jeans and a light green top with wooden platforms instead of a gown, and she walks directly over to the Bar. A few minutes later, the princess is at a table, setting down her Trump cards, pencils and some watercolours. She sets up the stand, with the board and paper clipped to it, and then just studies the Bar. Doesn't draw, doesn't paint, just sits on the chair with her hands loosely claspped between her knees, studying the wooden bar.

Considering she's not actually painting or drawing, she probably wouldn't mind distraction. In fact, she'd most likely welcome it.

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Lawrence may be watching her, but he doesn't interrupt until she's clearly not doing anything.

Then he walks over half-lazily and grins. "Evening, Miss Fiona."

"Evening, Lawrence." She says, before blinking, shaking her head and glancing up at with a smile.

He arches a brow and smiles back to her.

"All right?" Concerned.

"Oh, yes. I'm just trying to contemplate the nature of the Bar. Please, do take a seat."

"Well, that is a task."

He's utterly serious.

Her smile turns impish and, although she doesn't look that old (somwhere between twenty-five and thirty at the most), it makes her look like a girl.

"Indeed. But, as I refuse to be at the whim of a sentient doorway or mysterious Landlord, I would like to be able to control when I come and go."

He nods.

"That I understand." Ever since the mention of the desert he's been finding himself half-suffocating here and wishing even for the musky air of Britain if it would free him from this place. The same location over and over - even if the desert appeared the same to everyone else, it wasn't - was wearing at him.

"My family...we can create cards to contact each other. Trumps," she gestures to her packet on the table. "So, what I am trying to do is create one for Milliways. I'm just not sure if it will work due to the fluid, almost Chaos-like dimensions of this place."

A nod. "I would imagine it would have to be very flexible in order to contain everything and everyone that it does. It's only sensible."

He smiles, however. "Why would you wish to do that, if I may ask? Or is it simply to be able to leave?"

"I am not Bound, so that is not an issue. But...like I said, I have only really found two doors to this place, and I am not sure how common they would be. I made you a promise, and this place interests me."

Beat.

"Also, it's a challenge."

He grins. "Ah, so that is it. I do so love a challenge."

Aquaba was a challenge. Damascus was a challenge. Uniting Arabia was .. a challenge that he'd failed.

But he nods. "Then I shall wish you the best of luck on such an endeavor."

"Thank you! I haven't made a Trump in ages, so I'm a little out of practice." She studies the bar, and then glances back at him.

"What...what in this place stays the same?"

He blinks, thinking.

"Well, the furniture seems to move about the least. The bartop?" He's trying, at least.

Add to the scene one awkward blonde a few tables over. She's not looking to avoid Fiona forever; dammit, she likes Fi. She doesn't want that to change just because...

She doesn't want it to change.

She gets up from her own chair and walks over to the other woman's table, giving the art supplies and Trumps a cursory glance.

"Hey."

She's not sure where to go from here, but at least it's a start, right?

A faint smile, because Fi had been aware of her the whole time. Don't ask how, she just was. One of Fiona's quirks.

"I was wondering when you were going to come over. Hey, Mary Anne."

"Oh, you know me. Just had to finish my drink and grow a pair."

Headtilt. "What're you up to? Gonna paint the bar?"

"Yes. I'm going to try and make a Trump for it, as I have no wish to be at the whim of vaguely sentient doorways or mysterious Landlords."

"Good plan, fickle as the doors are."

Wait. Back up. Blink.

"Landlord?"

Congrats, Fi. Somebody here is still uninformed.

"The Landlord, he who is blamed for Boundage, lack of doors, the Bar, everything else."

"Ah."

She tries to remember if she's heard the term before.

"Can't say I've heard a lot about him. Does anybody know a lot about him, or is this another of the great mysteries?"

[ooc: the mun would like to thank the above tag for the use of the letter 'u' before I got terribly confused about the sekrit kinks of the Landlord.]

[ooc: this mun would like to point out that had the 'u' not been there, this icon would have been used]

"Another one of the Great Mysteries, I'm afraid."