milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Roger strolls in.

Does there need to be any further description?

No, I think not.

Alex is seated at the bar. He may or may not notice Roger's entrance.

He's still got a bandaged hand and bruises.

Roger walks over to him at a quick saunter that manages to look merely bored.

"Hello, Alex," he says, seating himself nearby.

A brief, albeit sincere, smile.

"Your Grace. How do you find yourself today?"

Roger smiles, looking enchanted. "Sublime."

He looks Alex up and down, and frowns. "But you look battered, my dear. What happened?"

"Good to know."

He looks away. Evasive.

"An accident. I'll heal."

He raises an eyebrow, but lets it pass.

"How goes it for you?"

The smile returns, now that the topic of conversation has changed.

"Well enough. I've not seen much of Thom or Delia lately, but then I've been keeping to myself quite a bit. Making sure my skills are still in top form, that sort of thing."

Roger nods.

"I'm certain your skills retain the charm they've always had," he says, glibly. Somehow it sounds irrevocably dirty.

Dirty is so very much not a problem.

"Some of them do, certainly, but others I can't be sure of on my own."

Roger raises a delicately shaped brow.

"Yes; duelling *does* require a partner in order to retain one's edge."

He smirks. "Indeed it does."

Roger smirks. "And how is your sword lately?"

It is a smirky day for all, it seems.

"Lonely."

Roger pouts.

"A lack of cold steel in Milliways? I never thought I would see the day."

"A lack of cold steel that I feel inclined to duel with, certainly."

Roger sighs. "Alas for the smooth movement of thrust-parry-thrust! Such a rarity these days."

"Indeed. So many people are so uncouth when it comes to such things. I miss the finesse I grew used to, duelling with you, your Grace."

That could be completely innocent. But this is Alex...

Roger hides a smile. Mildly successfully.

"I *have* often practiced, young Alex. Long, intense practices."

"Mmm. I recall some of them."

He sighs theatrically. "I fear I have a long way to go before I'm as adept as you are."

Roger sighs. "Oh, Alex. You always /did/ like to flatter a foe." He reaches out and taps Alex's hand. "You were always so graceful."

He shrugs. "Graceful most of the time, your Grace. Though I appear to have been rather clumsy of late... I must be slipping up."

*archly*

Really? I find that hard to believe.

"Or so I've been told. Apparently clumsiness doesn't become me."

*Thom thinks not too.*

Having a strolling sort of day, are you?

Roger eyes him. And shrugs.

"Actually I was hoping for midway between a stroll and a saunter, but my legs had a different idea."

*Does that mean he was...sauntering vaguely strollward?! Aha! Aha! Ahahahaha! ...ha?

How do you *facepalm* within an action asterisk?

Plainly, I am a loser at LIFE.*

Do they often have minds of their own, then?

Roger shrugs. "No more than my hands, or my..." He looks vaguely to the right and hums, trailing off. "...knees."

*Thom is not amused. He smacks Roger for that one.* Sure.

Roger bites back a grin.

"Hello, Thom dear."

What've you been up to?

Roger smiles broadly. It reveals nothing.

"Great heights, my lad. Great heights."

You're too tall.

*as an afterthought* And I'm not your dear.

Roger shrugs. "Height is useful, when it comes to certain things."

*looking down tenderly at Thom*

"No? All right then, sweet."

*frowns* Stop it.

Roger shrugs. "All right."

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