milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Fiona has been in the Bar for a little bit, but after finishing her Moscow Mule (thanks to Mal), she has retreated somewhat. A booth, well-lit, and she's curled up with a book.

Perhaps Milliways isn't the best place to read, but sometimes you just need to be surrounded by people.

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"And the best absinthe."

"I haven't tried their absinthe," he admits, curiosity and mischievousness creeping into his face. Hmm, would anyone on the train notice if he came back drunk?

...okay, yes they would, but still!

"It's heavenly."

"Oh. Well."

Shiiiifty.

"Shall I order some?"

"If you insist..."

"Mmm, I think I do," and she calls over a waitrat and orders.

"Take a seat, Truman?"

Which he does, removing his coat and draping it over the back of the booth.

"Thank you. I might as well stay a while."

Fiona grins.

"Lovely. So, what have you been up to?"

"I've been in Russia doing research for a piece for The New Yorker. I was on my way back, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, where abouts?"

"Moscow."

"My favourite of the Russian cities."

"It is wonderful, isn't it? I spent most of my time doing research, but I did try to travel about when I had time."

"It's...it has such character, and history...it's beautiful."

"It is. It really is. And you wouldn't think it, but there's a lot of people there who are sympathetic to the West. That's what my piece is about. The youth who sympathize with us."

"I wouldn't," she says, lighting a cigarette, "be the slightest bit surprised."

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