milliways_bar | (no subject)

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In the shadows-- a Melpomene, sitting in a dark corner all alone, nursing a mug of black coffee in one hand and holding a smoking cigarette in the other. Glass ashtray nearby- several butts still glow in the ash. She looks depressed, but that's nothing new.

Just come and bother her until she stops being moody, or at least get her to stop with the nicotine. (This could take some work.)

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A slow silence and then:

"What?"

Melpomene pauses-- a nine-month pregnant pause. "At not being hurtful, I mean."

She looks over at him. "What did you think I meant?"

"You're sad that I didn't hurt you," Parker says. "Why?"

"Did I say that?"

Now she's taking a more careful look, eyebrow raised. Cigarette in hand.

"I am always sad. Whether you hurt me or not is irrelevant. Maybe. Anyway... I only meant, off-topic, that you are not a problem as far as hurting goes."

She feels like she's rambling now, and stops.

Parker grins, "Good to know."

"Indeed."

Sound and fury... Mel takes a drag.

"What have you been up to? Haven't seen you around," Parker says, half sentences and boredom.

"Not much worth taking note of. Yourself?" Queen of the staccato.

"Nothing much. Getting in and out of trouble," he says.

"Keeps life exciting."

Indifferent, or something like that.

"Life without excitement isn't worth living," Parker agrees.

Melpomene can't comment on that-- she is one of the most dull and predictable muses. Most of the time, anyway.

"Mhhh," she says.

"You don't think so?" Parker asks.

"No, I do. But I am living proof of a life without excitement. And there you have it."

"A life without excitement?" Parker says, amused. "How can someone as beautiful live a life not worth it?"

"Just watch me."

She sits there. Dully.

"mmm," Parker agrees. "Good for you."

"What?"

She feels this kind of a question is okay, since it's Parker.

"You've managed to turn faking being boring into an acting exercise." He raises an eyebrow. "Can I have a cigarette?"

She hands him one, almost-but-not-quite sullenly.

"I am not an actor. Need a light?"

"An acting exercise without an actor," Parker muses.

She looks darkly at him.

"Who said anyone was acting? I do not act myself, and I would like to point out that there is a difference between those behind stage and those on it."

"Puppets and puppet masters," Parker agrees. "And I say that you're acting. Boring people quickly lose my interest."

"Then why are you sitting here?"

She waves a hand at him.

"Fine." Parker shrugs, and says, "But I'm leaving because you want me to. I'm not bored."

He stands and heads off.

Mel looks after, cigarette smoking- forgotten.

Then she remembers herself and glances back down at the bare table, and slumps.
Back to being moody again.

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