milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[Out of Milliways, and into Twin Peaks: Dale Cooper isn't above a little minor subterfuge. And neither is Audrey Horne.]

Cooper sticks his head into the bar, and follows it. There's a copy of the Twin Peaks Gazette under his arm.

When he settles at the bar and unfolds it, the lead story is about a -- get this -- campaign rally. For Jerry Horne. In the sheriff's campaign.

Apparently Jerry Horne is making campaign promises. One of them -- so the headline screams -- is A FISH IN EVERY PERCOLATOR.

Something that Special Agent Dale Cooper, FBI, is wondering --

How in god's name is an abomination like that an incentive to vote for Jerry Horne?

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"Pie?"

"...please tell me that's an offer." Cooper looks up.

This is a look of desperation, here.

"Oh no no no. Just introducing myself. Name's Eugenia Pie. Pleased to meet you."

There is no way on Glod's green Earth that anyone with that sort of smile on their face is anything but kidding.

See, though, Cooper has this tendency to take people at their word.

He blinks. "That's a very interesting name -- is it a family name?"

Maybe his family has connections with the British royal family...?

The tell-tale Wow am I lying smile begins to fall, and not in a graceful manner either. Tht's hardly fair...he was the one putting someone on. Someone's not allowed to try and put him on, that's not how this works!

"Oh yes. Goes back centuries. My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great Grand Daddy was the Duke of Rhubarb."

Of course you know, this means WAR.

FIRE CANNONS! Only Cooper is...unarmed.

"Apparently my geography isn't as good as it should be," Cooper says, apologetically. "Where's that?"

Forget that his father made maps for a living.

"Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning."

Mike nods in the direction of the observation window.

Cooper turns, and eyes it.

Carefully.

"Second star to the right of what? I'm afraid I can't make it out."

"The right...of uh...RIGHT!"

He says, but he doesn't point. No, because the moment the man turns away Mike begins wildly gesturing to the wait rats in the kitchen.

PIE! Get the man some pie!

Three rats come barreling out of the kitchen, each with a different pie.
It's a Pie-nami!

When Cooper turns back around, he blinks.

Three pies.

He looks up at Eugenia.

"Mr. Pie. I see you have your namesake in triplicate."

...either he's too deadpan to live, or he's serious.

The rats do their best to make their little black soulless eyes appear sheepish.

"Oh these? These are my official courtiers. Yeah, they um..they follow me around with a train of tasty treats so that no one may ever question my right of...pieness?"

"I'm guessing you're not from Earth?"

No culture he's ever heard of has a Duke of Rhubarb. Or pie.

And...Milliways. It's entirely possible.

...Cooper entertains a brief fantasy of attaching himself to the office-holder in a professional manner. Especially if free pie is involved.

"Uhh...D'Hoonib. Great place, lots of aliens with brain faces, and Quik-Grow Pills."

Oh man, that commercial was right. Telling one lie does lead to another, so then you tell a lie to cover the other. Damn those Latter Day Saints and their catchy morality-laden commercial spots!

"...brain faces?"

There are times when cultural relativism is not a good practice. This would not be one of them. This is why Cooper manages to school face and voice to betray nothing but polite curiosity.

"Well, it's more that they're talking brains with faces..."

"Oh." Cooper mulls this over for a moment. "How are the brains protected from the elements outside?"

"They really aren't, which always did seem like a really bad idea to me. Sometimes they have little levitating disk things that float them where they need to go. But most of the time they kind of rely on these Space Marine exosuit things."

Mike takes the pies from the rats, whose little ratty limbs are getting tired trying to hold so much pie, and places the desserts on Bar's top.

There's a Blueberry, a real Cherry, and a Strawberry Rhubarb.
Apple is for teatotalers, and we'll have none of those here...aside from Mike, of course.

Cooper eyes them.

Things in Twin Peaks seem to run in twos; he likes it when there's three of anything.

A little wistful: "I wish pie ran in my family."

"You know, we're always looking for new subjects to rule with an iron fist..."

Now where did that pie server come from?

I don't know, but Cooper is eyeing it. "Is there a velvet glove on that fist?"

"Velvet or latex, depending on the day."

You're sharing, Mike. Stop sharing.

That is enough to get Cooper to look up from the pie.

"...I think I'll pass. But thank you for the offer."

"Hey, anytime. It's a standing offer, unless it's not."

Cooper blinks. "That's very logical."

"We aim to please. Your aim will help."

Mike repeats from a wall hanging he once saw in April's Junk Shop.