milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Wes has honestly been keeping up his practising of English letters. Just, you know, at a leisurely pace.

He's at a table now with his notepad, a pen, and the primer Val gave him, writing out as much of the alphabet as he can from memory, then checking against the sheet.

He manages about half each time.

He does a lot better at writing words like "vodka", "whiskey" and "drink".

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Finished with her pizza, Dawn is looking for a different place to sit and watch people and spots the guy trying to write letters.

"What're you doing?" she asks over his shoulder. She thinks she knows, but she'd rather not assume.

Wes glances up and smiles brightly at her.

"Tryin' to learn English. 's a vapin tricky written language, you know. I've been practising for months and still not got it right."

He has not been practising every day, though, which is sort of the point.

"Yeah. I guess."

She frowns a little.

"Can you recognize the letters?"

Hey - she was trying to teach Clem some things at one point.

"I can get some of 'em when I see 'em," Wes says with a nod. "Usually better in context."

Like ... 'drink'. Also, 'Star Wars', by now.

"They kinda match up to Aurebesh, I just need to memorise them better, I think."

He's not quite factored in lower-case yet, though.

"You could make flashcards. Write one of the letters," she points to an individual letter in one of the words, "on each card and have someone 'flash' them at you and you say what the letter is." She shrugs. "It's how I learned."

"--ooh."

Wes ponders this, studying the primer for a moment. Then he grins at Dawn again.

"Sounds like a good way. Think I could get cards from Bar, huh?"

A light shrug.

"Sure. Probably a heavy marker too. 'Cause you'll wanna make the letters kinda big, so they're easy to read."

"Yeah, good point. Hey, I could go get some just now -- you wanna help me?"

Another flash of that brilliant smile.

"Sure. I'll help."

She takes a seat across the table from him.

"Great! Okay, just a second--"

He goes to get a pile of cards and a marker from Bar, along with a plate of cookies, then returns to his seat and deposits everything on the table.

"Okay. Uh." Beat. "...so how does this work, exactly?"

She smiles. "First, have a cookie." She snags one and takes a bite. "Then," she uncaps the marker with a squeak, "you write the letters on the cards." She demonstrates by drawing a large letter "A" on the first card, then she turns it for him to see. "Like this. This is the letter 'A'."

She hands him the card.

"And you do that for all the other letters."

Wes approves of the first step and takes a cookie for himself, eating it as he watches and nods.

"Huh," he says around a mouthful of crumbs, and swallows. He takes the card and holds it up thoughtfully. "'A'," he repeats carefully, "which iiiis ... aurek!"

He taps the right Aurebesh letter on the primer, then grins again.

"Right, I get it. So just the English letters on the cards, huh?"

A slight shrug. "Well, you could write the corresponding letter from your own alphabet on the reverse side for practicing by yourself."

"Good plan! Since ... the only person I know who knows English and Aurebesh hasn't been round in ages."

He finishes his cookie as he ponders this, then goes for his best smile again.

"Think you could help me out by writing the English ones? My handwriting's awful at the best of times, let alone for different languages..."

"Okay, but only if you promise to practice writing the English ones on your own." She gives him a stern 'teacher' look.

Wes adopts a solemn expression and nods, holding a hand up as if to swear it.

"Promise. I'll practise every day."

"Good boy. You should always do what the teacher says. Especially if her name is Dawn." She flashes him a grin and keeps drawing letters on the cards.

"I always do; I'm a very good boy," Wes replies, still solemn.

Then he grins ruefully and says, "Oh, right -- I'm Wes. A pleasure to meet you, Dawn."

She grins. "Nice to meet you, Wes. So, where are you from that you don't write English?"

"A galaxy far far away," he says with a grin. "Coruscant, to be specific."

"You're kidding, right?"

She spent far too much time with Xander and Andrew.

"Is Coruscant the galaxy or the planet?"

She didn't pay that much attention.

"'m deadly serious," Wes says, feigning indignation. "I always tell the truth.

"--'s the planet," he adds, grin returning. "Capital of the galaxy. Technically I'm from Taanab, a different planet, but I live on Coruscant, mostly."

She grins.

"What's it like?"

"Reeeally crowded," but he doesn't exactly disapprove of this. "Whole planet's a city, so whatever time of day it is where you are, there's always a bar open."

Beat.

"...well, there is anyway once you go down further than the top level, but you know what I mean."

"So, I guess this isn't much different from home? The always-open bar and all the people?"

"Nope, still the most alien -- an' astral -- place in any world. No one's ever tryin' to kill me here," he explains, still with a grin. "And the people are more interesting -- and pretty."

"Oh, so you've met my sister then?"

She doesn't indicate if she's referring to the alien and killing part or the 'pretty' part.

A thump is the only herald of Tycho's arrival. (The thump is, of course, him sitting down across from Wes.) "You're still at that, Wes?" he asks, amused and dressed in a typical simple black flightsuit.

"Yes. Still."

Wes nods solemnly, glancing at Tycho.

"I have been practising religiously every day, you know. I am almost an English expert."

"Really?" Quirk of a smile. "By all means, impress me with your expertise, Major."

"...well."

Hesitating only a moment, Wes tears the current page from his notepad with a flourish, leaving a blank one beneath.

Then, carefully, he writes the English word he knows best.

D-R-I-N-K.

Tycho leans forward a little to look at the notepad, then at Wes. "What is it?"

"A notepad," Wes says, deadpan. "Flim-si. Or pa-per."

He opens his mouth, then closes it. "Shut up."

"Okay," Wes says, and does.

Well, Tycho told him to. And Wes always does what he's told.

A very slight eyeroll. "What does the lettering mean?"

Now there is a slightly rueful grin.

"It says 'drink'."

Beat.

"I've memorised the important words, you see."

Tycho grins. "I see. How's the bartending coming?"

"Well!" he says brightly. "I was thinking of taking it up permanently, you know -- giving up all this fighter pilot nonsense."

He's probably done a couple shifts off-screen, but that'll be it so far.

"I was about to ask when we were going to lose you to the lucrative world of high-end bartending."

Tycho? Dry? Never.

"I know you'd all find it terribly hard to cope without me."

Wes sighs dramatically.

"So if you really insist I keep flying, well, I'm sure Madame Lilly would understand."

He raises an eyebrow, and he feels like he shouldn't be amused, really, but he is. "Madame Lilly? That's what the owner of the brothel goes by?"

Well. At least she's traditional?

Wes snickers and nods.

"Absolutely. And the title's very important. At least it's more interesting than colonel or general."

Then he adds, thoughtfully, "And she's better-looking than you or Wedge. Maybe she would be a better permanent boss."

Tycho looks mock-affronted. "Wedge and I are pretty."

"Of course you are," Wes says with a grin. "Not as pretty as me, but still very pretty. 'fraid Lilly beats even you two on that, though."

A pause and then, in a conspiratorial whisper, "She might even be as pretty as me."

"Wow. That's pretty," he deadpans.

"I know," Wes says solemnly. "No one else in the galaxy has reached that level."

A bemused pause, and then he just shakes his head. "You're ridiculous, Wes."

"Yep," he agrees cheerfully, "and that's why everyone loves me."

Beat.

"I mean, apart from the already-stated prettiness."

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