milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Guess who was still around? Yeah, no surprise there. He was done watching the window at least.

Just at that particular moment, in case anyone was wondering, the thief was sitting at one of the smaller tables with the ever-present cafe au lait, and working on what appeared to be a simple enough game of solitaire. He'd been doing coin tricks earlier so he didn't get out of practice, but he could only do that for so long.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Do you read of the future, Lord, or of the past?" a young woman asked curiously from the next table over. The Dames had oft scryed in flame, and lesser, in cards...and with the attention he was gracing the assortment with...

He blinked up at the voice ~~and his mun was just about to make him tag Khemrys' post~~ brows arching slightly, "Pardon?"

He smiled then, shaking his head, "Ah, non, neither." He shrugged, squaring the cards and then shuffling them once, "Just play t'game."

She had paused in her embroidery, goldly-green eyes watching the cards being gathered and shuffled once more. "Game, Lord?" sadly, she had not been taught card games. The few decks within the Abbey were delicate, treasured things.

"Apologies for disturbing you"

He smiled then, shaking his head, "Non petit, not at all." He shrugged, giving the deck another shuffle, they were simple enough plastic-coated cards, portrait on the back so he knew when they were upside down or right side up, "Variation on Fans."

That had her blinking for a moment, needle returning to it's patterns as she mulled that over. "I fear I must claim ignorance, Lord. The fans I know of are simply that, used in hot weather and for vanity"

He laughed then, just once, shaking his head as he unfolded from his seat, padding over to offer a hand, "Remy LeBeau."

Her own hand was small and delicate, a lady's hand no matter that she worked fair harder than some "Khemrys. A pleasure Lord Remy."

Another soft laugh, pressing a brief kiss to the backs of her knuckles, "S'just Remy, buy y'a drink?" Because, yeah, in his head? Those two things went together.

She blushed faintly, just the slightest hint of rose along pale cheeks "If you wish...l...lord Remy." less emphasis on the Lord is a start. Honest.

"Though I am well content to seek tea in my rooms later"

He smiled, giving her a wink before padding to the bar, still couldn't get over the fact that the waitstaff was rats. He was used to swamp rats, and Paris rats, both of which would probably eat your face rather than serve you anything.

He returned not long after with a mug of tea and a plate of shortbread cookies that Bar had given him with it, "S'not beignets, but s'just as good I s'pose."

She set her needlework aside politely, the small basket holding the worked bags dissapearing near her feet. After all, one did not work when entering into polite conversation, and she could certainly take the time as it was not yet time for all the bags.

"In truth, I know little of what the Lady Bar serves. What are beignets?" she asked curiously as she waited for him to begin eating. She didn't even stumble over the strange word!

He smiled, having settled himself with a fresh mug of coffee, "S'fried dough an' powdered sugar. 'Nough t'choke t'unwary and give anyone else diabetes. S'the best breakfast in t'world."

She chuckled at that, sipping her tea "The threat of choking hardly seems fair recommendation, Lord Remy. I find it strange, the sheer amount of sugar in most things here. It cannot be healthy for one..."

He shrugged, smile gone tilted, "Just have t'know not t'inhale while bitin' down s'all." Another shrug, "And it probably isn't, but s'tasty all t'same."

"It still manages to sound like a fair complicated treat, Lord" she chuckled. She may even be teasing...

"Perchance I shall learn t omake them at some point." she still hasn't touched the shortbread sadly, for Lords ate first.

He smiled, snagging one of the cookies to nibble at, on general principles he wasn't entirely fond of shortbread, but they went well with coffee, so there you go, "Oui, at least 'fore you get a bit of practice."

Shortbread was a new confection to her tastes, oft in her world only harvest cakes and spun sugars were the sweets...

That would avount for the smile after a small, delicate bite. It was not something to eat often, but for a rare treat, it was well suited.

"It would be a fair project come winter, along side brewing ales as I've been asked."

He smiled then, it was crooked, but nonetheless easy than the last had been, "Oui. Can try t'teach you if y'like. Not much good 'round hot oil m'self though, and s'bound to be someone here who knows 'em bettern' I do."

"I am always willing to learn..." though her lips twitched, hidden laughter in her smile "...though I do admit, Lord Remy, it is not oft I hear tell of Lords in the kitchen..."

He smiled again, shrugging, "I know 'nough not to burn t'water. Bit more. But t'ings wit' actual directions an' measurements t'row me off every time."

"The worth of a cook is seldom in the recipe..." she admitted with a small laugh. "So Dame Arnette would say after admitting to "A little of this and of that" in the stew..."

"I would be well honored to be taught"

He smiled again, nodding once, "Well soon's we find out who's in charge of t'kitchen, and ask 'f it's a'right t'have lessons, I'd be happy t'teach y'."

"I admit to fear in that regard, as I've yet to intrude on the kitchens. I do all my mixing and brewing within my stillroom, and sadly, that lacks an oven..." she mused, eyeing the kitchen doors speculatively.

He nodded again, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table, "Oui. Haven' had reason t'go looking 'mself." He shrugged, "Maybe we should put up a sign?"

"Please, help us, we need a kitchen and fear to bespeak the kitchen staff?" she chuckled.

"I do have a stove, or something much akin in the stillroom. Would that be fair enough?"

He laughed at the first, nodding, "Oui, somet'in' like t'at."

Both brows arched at the second, "Oui, s'long as s'big enough for a deep skillet and have a bit've board space left over."

"I am not certain what to call it beyond a stove...there is no flame, no wood to feed, but heat in a circle..." she spread her hands about eight inches apart. "And much stone counter upon either side. A marvel for working with the herbs and brewing of tisanes..."

His smile spread, nodding once, "T'at'll be big 'nough if we can find the right kind've skillet." A shrug then, "Which's just cast iron, deep 'nough for a hobo pie."

"A...what pie?" she blinked, hands laying on the table once more "I've made some late fall berry coblers in a pan, Lord, but never a pie..."

His brow creased slightly, blinking, "S'like, mostly mashed potatoes, and t'en whatever else's handy, meat if y've got it, vegitables if y'don't."

"Ah...a mash stew. I've not made it often, it was not thought fit to serve the Abbess..." she wrinkled her nose slightly at the comment.

She didn't care for the abbbess.

His smile was crooked once more, nodding once, "Mebbe not, but s'just fine fer T'ieves an' vagabonds, non?"

Besides that? It was one of the few things he could cook without making a mess of it.

"It's a decent meal for any and all I admit, and far before the new abbess, when I was little, we oft ate it...quick and simple a meal as could leave a Dame free to tend the garden instead" she chuckled.

"I make something much like it most nights, though thinner for I add demon bunny to the mix, and that makes better stew, and thin at that, than pie. It's a rather interesting taste"

He blinked, then once more, brow creasing, "Demon ... bunny?" He had perhaps been told about them before, but he hadn't heard of anyone actually eating them.

In fact, it sounded a bit unsanitary.

"Well, I hunt Lord...and they are the most common game about. They are not unpleasant, simply...not meat I was used to?" she mused quietly.

"And I believe the name demon was more derived by their tendency to blow fire upon occassion, or blink about and so forth...I do hope at any rate."

His brow arched at that, just a little, before nodding once, "Good fer target practice t'en petit?"

Because, really, he could do with a bit of that if he was going to stick around. And he was.

She laughed outright at the question, bright and rich, almost a purr. "Aye Lord...I am told each bunny does get reborn almost instantly upon dying...and certainly there are a fair few as have declared vendetta upon me..."

He laughed as well, nodding, "Migh' have to take a trip outside later on." He still hadn't been out there, too much to keep him occupied inside, really.

And there is a strange looking short guy, with a cooking pot on his head, at Remy's table, holding a bunch of flowers.

Paying rapt attention as Remy moves the cards across the table.

"Oooooo."

He blinked, arching a brow. It was a fairly typical Bristol Fans setup, four fans on the table, but the method of adding and taking cards away was difficult to spot at first.

"Oooo."

Pikel being the curious sort reaches across the table and picks up a card turning it over in his hand as he inspects it.

Remy's brow arched, just a little, sitting back in his seat and studying Pikel a moment, "Evenin' mon ami. Somet'in' I can help y'with?"

"Eh?"

Pikel looks from the card to Remy and then smiles sheepishly as he realizes what he just did.

"He he he."

As he places the card on the pile, he smiles, a smile reaching to his ears.

"Oo Oi."

The tone behind it should reflect its meaning.

Hello.

Remy smirked, just a little, couldn't help it really, "Evenin'." This was, perhaps, the oddest conversation he'd had since arriving.

Pikel jumps back from the table and dramatically presents a yelllow rose from behind his back, holding the rose out for Remy.

He blinked once more, brow arching, but he accepted the rose all the same, "... Merci."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only