milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

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?)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Wow. Refreshments," Atton grins. "Be still, my beating heart, be still."

Wes grins back and shakes his head.

"'s a very important part, you know. They're also the ammo, after all! You'd get to decide what sort of pastries are available to throw. I'd be trusting you with a very important task here."

"If you make it refreshments and tables, you'll have a deal." Don't do it, Wes! It's a trap!

"Hmm."

Wes makes a show of considering this. He gives it a great deal of thought. It's a tricky dilemma. I mean, refreshments and tables? WHOA.

"All right," he agrees with a grin, "but you've got to promise that only the cool people get the Whyren's, so there's more for me."

The next briefing will be crackdoom-filled, the mun can see it now.

It's a perfect situation for Atton. He gets to make it as bizarre and difficult as possible, without having to do any of the difficult, administrative stuff.
"Astral," Atton grins. It is quite a wolfish grin, as far as grins go. "And of course only the cool people will get Whyrens."

Sounds good to Wes! He likes this delegating thing.

He throws Atton a mock salute, and nods. "Good. I'll let you know whenever I decide it'll be. An' I'd be happy to help test any potential pastries," he adds, "you know, just to help."

Atton raises one hand to the side of his head, in the vain hope that it will stem the sudden headache that came on when he saluted. It passes after a few moments.
"Yeah, I'll bet you would. But you pay for any pastries you - Actually. All my stuff is going on Kira's tab, so taste away!"

Wes snorts. "Yeah, I bet she'll love paying for some strange guy to eat pastries."

Beat.

"Sounds like a plan! Be sure to get a lot. Always make the most of other people paying for things."

"Pfft. You're hardly a strange guy. I mean, she met you a couple of weeks ago, when I came in," Atton grins. "I did consider buying a gigantic, really expensive pie to share out with the bar, but I decided not to, eventually."

"Me? Not strange?" Wes tries very hard not to burst out laughing. "You really don't remember anything.

"You should," he adds with a grin. "Or buy everyone a drink. Or just buy me lots of drinks, that works too."

"Hey!" Atton protests. "I remember some things. Lotsa things." Very little about Wes, but he's not going to say that. That would ruin his whole argument.

"But you still think I'm normal?" Wes definitely laughs this time. "Obviously I'll have to try harder in future. Can't be having people think I'm normal."

"Obviously I don't want to remember your abnormal moments," Atton grins, prodding Wes in the ribs. "They must be that bad."

Wes wrinkles his nose and pokes Atton back.

"No. I'm brilliant when I'm abnormal. Which ... is all the time, so I'm brilliant all the time. So ha!" Beat. "Just, not many people recognise this," he concedes.

"Yeah. 'Cause you really give off an aura of brilliance," Atton says, with just a hint of sarcasm. "Really. Really really."

Wes mock-glares at him.

"'Course I do. Can't you sense it? I ooze brilliance. So much, in fact, that a little pool of it gathers whenever I stay still too long, and actually, that makes me sound like a Hutt, doesn't it?"

"You remind me of one anyway, so you needn't worry about that." Atton grins.

Wes sticks his tongue out at him. "Thanks, I love you too. Well, if I'm a Hutt, you must be a bantha, at least."

"I can deal with being a bantha. Banthas are cuddly and ... survive in deserts despite having huge amounts of fur," Atton grins. "You know I love you really. Even if you are a particularly ugly Hutt."

"Maybe you're a tauntaun, then. They smell even worse than banthas, after all."

Wes attempts to look affronted, but his grin doesn't help. "Am not. I'm a really, really hot Hutt." Beat. "Human. Hot human."

Atton grins slightly.
"Hot Hutt, Wes. Hot Hutt," He pauses for a second. "Besides, you can't be the hottest human, 'cause that's me."

Wes just looks at him, then shakes his head in disbelief.

"No way. If anything, we might be tied, buuut, I'm pretty sure I'm hotter than you."

With mock sympathy, he adds, "Sorry."

"Uh-huh. No. I am the hottest man in this bar, and the universe. You're a close second," Atton grins. "Very close. Almost tied."

"Well, thank you," Wes says with a grin. "I'm honoured to be given such recognition. It's still a lie, 'course, since I'm definitely the hottest here, but at least you're not totally delusional."

"You are not the hottest here. I am. What could possibly make you hotter than me?"