milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It's one of those posts.

There's a spoilerific and mildly tipsy Desmond in a booth, sketching something that might be a snowglobe, only that's silly, right?

Another booth has a Hawkeye, with a glass of scotch and a newspaper from home -- it's amazing what Bar'll give you.

At a table by the noticeboard is Wes, copying English words from the various signs and seeing how much he can translate without checking the primer. (Answer: not many. Rose is watching from the next table over, smirking slightly at each mistake. It's great being able to read anything. Yay TARDIS!)

Ben's at the Bar with a chocolate milkshake -- that's not changed after three years, apparently. He's stealing occasional curious glances at an uneasy man nearby, though: Fi's wandered in wearing his off-duty clothes and without his brothers, but he figured he'd have a glass of fruit juice anyway. (And why not, eh?)

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Wes is indignant. Indignant!

"I have not kriffed any banthas."

Also self-mocking.

He eyes Shalla and shakes his head. "Nah. I'll just get you some cookies. Can't have you stealing cookies from me after all." He grins. "Oreos or chocolate chip?"

She snorts. "Keep telling yourself that, Janson. Somewhere there's a bantha family wondering where their parent has run off to. You probably keep it up in your room for when you get lonely."

Tapping her fingers on the table restlessly, she gives him a look. "I wouldn't steal your cookies, Wes. I have standards." She pauses. "And I have no idea what Oreos are."

Wes wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. "I don't need a bantha for when I get lonely, even a stuffed one. Not that I get lonely in the first place."

He gives her a very skeptical look at the 'standards' comment, then waves down a waitrat. "Plate of Oreos and chocolate chip cookies for the ... lady, please."

He grins at her, then just waves at the plate when it arrives.

"Oh! So you have someone to stop you from getting lonely, huh? Who'd stoop that low, I wonder?" Her expression makes it clear he can tell her. Really.

"You better watch it, Janson," she says, pointing a finger at him. "Holos, remember?"

She looks back and forth between the cookies, smiling slightly before picking up an Oreo and examining it.

"Never said that," he answers lightly. "But I'm me, aren't I? Any woman in any bar's fair game."

He grins again. He doesn't trust her expression at all, no. Always the cute ones, pfft.

"Bet there aren't holos," he mutters, but shakes his head and takes an Oreo for himself. "Look, do this--" And he twists it apart to show her.

~~So Hobbie's a woman now?~~

"Uh-huh," she says skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "I haven't seen any proof of that. Ever."

She laughs, her smile growing and taking up her whole face. "Would you be willing to bet on that?" She leaves it at that, her attention now absorbed by the cookie in her hands.

~~Well, he did wear a dress...~~

"Haven't been looking, then," he says firmly. "'s obvious all of 'em want me, y'know. Them and plenty of guys. It's my left side, y'see," he adds by way of explanation, twisting slightly in his seat to show her his profile.

He is smiling wryly through it all, though.

"...not really," he admits, and twists another cookie apart so he can stick the two cream sides together. Yay double-stuffed Oreos!

"Oh, I've been looking. There's just not much to see. Though when only half of your face is showing your appeal does rise a bit." She smirks slightly at all his twisting.

"Didn't think so." She eyes the two parts of the cookie in her hand and adds, "Just eat them like this? And stop stealing my cookies!"

Ooh, Wes got burned.

"Not that it needs to rise, being as high as it is already," he continues from her statement, giving her a cool look.

"I wouldn't dare steal your cookies," he says, with added :O! "But I bought these, so they're half mine anyway. And look, see, stick 'em together, with another cream part. Tastes good."

She gives a rather un-ladylike snort. "Yeah, whatever you say, Wes. I'm so sorry I denied your amazing hotness."

Yeah, right.

"And you would so steal my cookies." She points to said cookies -- the real cookies -- and adds, "See? Over and over." She does as he says, though.

"It's okay," he says, making great allowances. "I forgive you. Enough people do recognise it after all."

He grins and munches on his current one. "Well, maybe I would, then. These are still half-mine, though!"

"You have never heard of the word 'sarcasm,' have you?" Shalla shakes her head sadly, then eats her cookie.

"Ha! You admit that you steal my cookies, then. It's okay, though, I know you can't help yourself," she says, mouth full of Oreo.

"I'm immune to sarcasm," Wes says, with a pfft. "So, no. Wasted effort."

His grin gets a little more lopsided, but he finishes off his cookie before shaking his head. "It's sad, I know, but I'm just obsessed with cookies. Nothing I can do, 'mfraid."

"Ah. That must be why so many things go over your head, then." Beat. "And that...really wasn't that insulting." She sighs. Can't get it perfect all the time.

"Aw. Just when I was starting to feel special. Now I find out you steal everyone's cookies." She tilts her head sideways, thinking for a moment.

"Or try to anyways. Not sure how many would let you. Standards, again."

"Better luck next time," Wes offers with a grin.

Then he goes for mild indignation. "Not everyone's. It's usually them trying to steal mine, you know."

No, really. That's how the whole euphemism even started, after all.

"I just have the best cookies. Not my fault everyone likes them so much," he adds, and holds up an Oreo for emphasis.

She ducks her head and grins slightly. "Thanks."

Awww, cute!

"So, if everyone is after your cookies, and you're after mine, that means I should be pretty flattered, right?" She snags a neglected chocolate chip and pops it into her mouth.

Stop being cute, Shalla!

Wes ponders this, chewing on his Oreo.

"Right," he decides. "Clearly you're just one of the few worthy people for me to steal cookies from. Congratulations on making the list. You don't get a prize, though."

She can't help it!

Shalla goes :O. (But cutely)

"I think I deserve some kind of prize. I mean, the entire galaxy loves me, I should get something." She pouts.

Pilots and their bruised egos.

"Wellll..."

Wes eyes her dubiously.

"They don't love you as much as me, though. And no one gave me a prize. So I don't see why you should get one. You've already got cookies, after all," he points out.

She glares right back at him.

"Yes, but you keep stealing my cookies. So I deserve a prize." Or she will pout more.

"I could give them back?" he suggests while munching on a cookie, then opens his mouth to demonstrate with a preview.

He's five.

"WES! EW!" She leans across the table and grabs his chin, trying to close his mouth.

"Close it!"

Wes snickers but obliges, and swallows the cookie mush.

"That's a no, then?"

"That's a 'you need help.' And a 'you act like a four year-old.'"

She shudders. And then straightens quickly, remembering.

"Oh! Face and I need you for something!"

"Insulting a superior officer, Lieutenant." Wes shakes his head. "--I'm at least nine."

He blinks at that, then eyes her. "Face and you? I don't think I like the sound of that right there."