milliways_bar | (no subject)

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toby ziegler

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Another night, another rejection. Another evening spent reading a book on spiders.

Poor Winnifred.

At this rate, the only thing it looks like he has going for him is that he showed up here tonight.

Might as well get a drink.

[ooc: Okay, he's gone now. As am I. Time for bed!]

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More staring.

And then more sad looks.

Wow, Toby. 0 for 2.

You suck.

Winnifred takes a swig of his clover beer. A big one.

Oh, for crying out loud...

No, stop. You can do this. Your White House Director of Communications. You can talk to a damn rabbit.

Toby is careful not to think about that claim too carefully.

Oh, I know what's going on here. Shoulda seen it right away. Was just thrown by the, you know, not-being-human thing.

"I get it. My apologies, Winnifred. I understand everything now."

"You just broke up."

"Look, this happens all the time. You'll get over it. Really. Sure maybe she was beautiful. Yeah, maybe she was great in bed. Maybe the best you ever had."

"But you just get back out there. Play the field. There's lots of... girl rabbits out there. You'll see."

There you go. Couple of mis-steps, but the old Ziegler instinct is back on track.

Yup. There goes the rest of the beer.

You've got the worst instincts ever, Ziegler.

"I'm studying to be an entomologist."

.... WTF?

"Really? That's a, that's a great career.... there, Winnifred. Bet there's a lot of, uh, opportunities."

Ok, so the rabbit wants to talk about bugs. Fine. We'll talk about bugs.

"So, uh, what? Beetles? Ants?"

What the hell do *I* know about ants? Where the hell is the President? Jed Bartlet probably wrote a masters thesis about termite economics, but *I'm* the one who has to chat up the first bunny entomologist.

"So, uh, what's your interest in bugs anyway? I mean, what, do rabbits eat them where you're from, or something?"

"Well, it depends. And I study spiders. Even though technically they're not insects."

"No." Jesus, what a dumb question. This guy must have a Ph.D in being completely insensitive.

What a retard. Time to upgrade to an alfalfa margarita.

"I just like them."

I'm being taped right now. That's it. It's the Republican National Committee. They got a hidden camera behind the bar, there, and they went out and found some weird little guy, put him in a bunny suit, and told him to talk at me about tarantulas. That's what this is.

"Oh, sorry. there, Winnifred. No offense."

For god's sake, don't piss off the ~~midget~~ bunny. Who knows what the hell he might do.

"Spiders? Yeah, spiders are great."

"So, uh, where're you going to school for that?"

Where the hell is that camera?

"(Enter name of some fairly large university here)"

Mmmm, margarita.

Not very talkative, is he.

What the hell are those green things in his drink? Wait--is that the camera? No. Dammit. Just a reflection.

Toby keeps eye-ing the back of the bar suspiciously.

"Oh, you go there? Got a student loan for it? You know it's the Democrats who keep those going."

What the hell are you doing? Because, yeah, that's just what the Party needs, a big donation of carrots.

So, uh, Winnifred. Entomology. You ever consider changing the name to 'Bugs Bunny'?"

"I hate you."

And he's gone.

Watching him leave, Toby shrugs and yells,

"What? Was it something I said?"

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