milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

The be-masked hero was back, and once again out by the lake practicing with the blades. He only had one of the pair at the moment and was apparently working more on acrobatics than actual fighting.

Though, really, upon closer inspection, even the acrobatics were defensive, even dangerous.

Just make sure not to startle him and you'll be fine.

(at work, same goes for Clive below, typing project, may be able to get posts in depending on how closely I'm being watched)

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He is watched by a young mum and babe form a good distance.

She doesn't approach him with the knives.

Once he realized he had an audience, and a female one at that, he stopped, tucked the knife he was working with away and dipped into a deep bow, "Madame."

She curtsies awkwardly.

"Hello."

He smiled then, "And how are you today miss Betty? Baby Jack?" Just in case the kid was old enough to answer for himself, given the jump of time that had happened before.

"We are both well thank you. Jack got a bit hot yesterday but he's better today. How are you Mr Zorro?"

He nodded, "That's what the hat's for. And I have been quite well." He tilted his head, brow arching over the top of the mask, "Yourself? Things going alright?"

"I would be lying if I said that it was easy bringing up a baby on my own, but we have our health, for now. And it's fairly safe here."

He nodded again, pausing a moment, then he smiled, "You're more than welcome to come and visit the vineyard if you wish. Though you may have to put up with my mother believing I'm the one at fault."

A head tilt.

"Thank you. But what's a vinyad?"

He blinked, "A vineyard, where they grow the grapes to make wine. My mother owns one. It's where we live."

He smiled then, "It's a lovely place really, mild even for California."

"Wine?"

She nods. "I know wine, but what's grapes?"

He blinked once more, "The fruit they crush to make wine from."

"But what are they?" she persists.

"I've never seen one."

He shook his head offering an arm, "We'll go inside and get some from the bar, easier to explain them that way."

She comes closer, putting one hand on his sleeve. Cautious of the knives in case they come too near Jack.

They were both carefully sheathed, out of sight and out of the way, though, of course, he could still get at them if he needed to.

He smiled a moment later, brushing the back of her hand gently, "I've got a better idea, wait right here."

He darted back inside for a minute or two, returning not long after with a folded blanket over his arm and a picnic basket in hand, "Let's find some shade, hm?"

She smiles.

"Yes, that would be nice."

She follows him to a suitable tree, checks the grass, then lays Jack down gently.

He smiled, shaking out the blanket and spreading it across the grass before he settled as well, opening the basket and taking out bunches of grapes, "I think there are sandwiches under the grapes, but it's mostly grapes."

And a variety of them at that, almost black purple ones that were as big as walnuts, smaller green ones that were like clusters of peas, varigated red and green ones that were a bit bigger, yellow ones that looked like frosted glass and oblong red ones that looked oddly like grubs.

"All of these are grapes?"

She looks at them, turning them over.

He nodded, tugging one of the purple ones off the stem, chewing it carefully so he could spit out the seeds, since they were bitter and crunchy and not at all palatable, "Yes, different kinds."

She tries one cautiously, making sure she spits out the seed too.

"They're nice. How do they make wine?"

He shrugged, "Crush a lot of them up to get the juice, and then let it ferment in casks for a number of months, sometimes even years, then bottle it and sell it."

He smiled, "Unless you're my mother, in which case you give most of it away to charity." Which might have sounded harsh in another light, but it was quite clear that he was a momma's boy through and through.

She nods, squashing a grape in her hand and licking her fingers.

"Who's Charity?"

He chuckled softly at that, shaking his head, "Convents and things, safehouses, it isn't one single person."

"But I thought nuns didn't tend to drink?"