milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The Front Door opens to allow a small rubber ball to come bouncing into the bar.

"Sam!"

"Sam! Do I have to do everything around here?"

Moments later, a grumbling White House Director of Communications comes into the bar. Not that he's noticed--he's too absorbed in scowling at the sheaf of papers he has in his hand. He reaches down automatically for the ball, which has come to rest against a chair leg, and only as he rises back up does he notice where he is. Just in time to hear the Door slam shut behind him.

"Not again!"

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"I was in very docile occupied country," he answers, feeling oddly okay with sharing part of his past with someone who seemed to understand a little. "And then the 'Emperor' decided to play games."

Games. Games that killed people.

"They usually do. Something about all that power, they just can't leave it alone. Guess our worlds aren't all that different, at least in that way."

"Was there a freedom movement in your country, at least? Or did he really have a lock on everything?"

"He pissed off the kindest people in the country until he could justify using his pet killers on people to 'settle things'."

Toby shakes his head. And then, after a moment, lifts his glass and says solemnly, "To their memory."

He nods and raises his glass.

~~and his mun facepalms~~

It's got water, but it doesn't mean he means it any less.

The thought counts for everything.

"So. You got your daughter out safely then? What happens next, do you think?"

"Raise her, mostly," he admits. "My companion and I seem to be doing well enough with her. My father's here, dead though he may be. And I'll try to keep avoiding my mother, alive though she remains here."

Toby has to smile at that. "Parents. It's the other way around for me. Never got along too well with my father. We've been better lately--we're both working at it."

"But--he made some bad choices along the way. You know how it is."

"My father died before I was born," he admits. "I didn't get to meet him til I came here. He looks almost exactly like me except covered in blue diamonds."

Hard to have a comeback for that.

"My father... isn't."

"Is that, uh, normal? No offense."

He rolls his eyes.

"How should I know? I don't have the first clue of what's normal, so if you're looking for that, you'd be best to look elsewhere."

He sips his water.

"My mother is here as well, though I'd advise you to avoid her as she's a thoroughly irritating example of a human being."

Slightly embarrassed, Toby nods in agreement. "Sorry. Guess we could all just shelve the word 'normal' around here anyway."

"So what's your mother look like? So I, uh, will know her if I see her."

"She's green. That really ought to do it."

"Green?" Toby looks alarmed. "She's not about this short? Full of threats about making fiends? ....Or something?"

"Oh. Uhh, no, guess not. Never mind. Forget I said anything."

Fucking Milliways.

He shakes his head.

"She's rather tall... and she doesn't make threats so much as just do whatever she's going to do. Dressed in black with a great black hat on her head, no doubt."

"Good. Err, ah--I'll, uh, watch out for her then," Toby mumbles.

Well, at least he didn't say anything about 'fiends.'

He looks at him sideways.

"Fiends? Are those anything like flying monkeys?"

"I couldn't tell you. I'm, uh, kind of hoping I never find out."

"Aha."

...

"Fiends?"

"'Fiends.' That's what she said."

"Little girl, about so high. Green."

Yeah, go on. Tell him he's crazy. He'd probably agree.

"There's another little green girl?"

...oh dear, this is NOT going to end well.

"And here I would have thought that Mother and Trindle would be the only ones.

Almost certainly NOT well, no.

"Well, I plan to keep my distance from all of them," replies Toby, tossing back the rest of his martini.

He eyes the empty glass. He might soon be facing his DOOM, but at least the drinks are top shelf.

His eyes go a little hard.

"There's nothing wrong with my daughter, sir."

Toby looks startled. "I missed something somewhere. Your daughter? Also green?"

He really should be keeping a checklist or something.

"Yes," he answers, still a little frigid, "Her name is Trindle and she's not old enough to walk yet, but she does happen to be the color of fresh grass."

And she is GORGEOUS, says a father's eyes. And you will AGREE with me or I will GLARE AT YOU till a HOLE APPEARS BETWEEN YOUR EYES.

Liir's been passionate about precious few things. The military. Nor. Trism. His mother's memory.

Now, Trindle.