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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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.

Toby is a politician. Turning on a dime is second-nature when he needs it to be. Like now, for instance. That he actually means it, doesn't hurt either.

"My apologies. Simple misunderstanding. I never meant to imply anything against her."

"I have kids myself. Huck and Molly."

He nods and lets it go.

"Strange names," he ventures. "I'm... sure they're lovely, though."

Toby chuckles. "I guess the names probably would seem strange. And they certainly are lovely."

"Very."

"Not that I'm in any hurry to seem them brought here, though." He eyes Bar warily, since he can't exactly do that to the Landlord directly.

"At home, she'd get a much harsher reaction than yours to the fact of her rather peculiar coloring."

Toby has had plenty of occasions to ponder the plight of refugees during his time in the White House. It's as sobering to him now as it was the first time.

"I'm glad you managed to find a kind of refuge here then."

He looks to the other man.

"Thank you."

It's genuine. That's rare.

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