milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Caspian has been acting strangely, the last few weeks. He's been conversing with the horses (which is fairly normal, but how often does one ask a horse, even a talking one, if they'd be more comfortable sitting over here rather than just there?) and pouring tea (again, not unusual, though he generally takes only one cup and they are not always quite so small and delicate).

He's been practicing other things, too.

And despite what Mal or Jack may have led him to believe, batting his lashes is decidedly not anywhere on the list.

[OOC: Am off to sleep, but will catch up slowtimes later!]

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There's somebody who's been looking for the stable manager. Currently checking the boards.

He muttered loudly and clearly, "...Why did she have to ask for a horsey?"

Sitting at the bar, Caspian can't help but overhear and he straightens, looks over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, sir, but...did you say something about a horse?"

It has been his experience that people talking about horses generally have one in the stables or are interested in working there, and he hasn't seen this man before.

Peter glanced over, and nodded, "Yeah, my kid asked the Hogfather, for a horse? Like a filly? And well, he gave it to her, so was wondering who I needed to talk about it...her?"

"Ah!"

Recognition dawns. "So that's you, is it? Or, your daughter, rather. I had wondered about that." Standing, he makes his way over and holds out a hand. "I beg your pardon. My name is Caspian, and I'm the stablemaster here. I've been wondering about your filly for some time now."

Peter nodded, "Yes, yes it is. I'm Dr. Peter Venkman, and you can thank my daughter Maria for that."

He added, "She's not even a year old, by the way."

Caspian looks a bit bemused, but the expression soon clears. "Your daughter? Aye, well, I suppose she might as well learn at a young age. She was given a fine filly, at any rate, but the horse will grow rather faster than your daughter."

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I dunno what she was thinking. A friend of mine stopped by with a filly in the bar that he's raising back home. And I guess she liked her so much she wanted one of her own." He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"She's certainly welcome in the stables," Caspian assures him. "She's fine and well-mannered, but I did want to ask you about her training. Do you know much about horses, sir?"

Peter shrugged, "I used to ride a little as a kid? But there was a guy holding the bridle at the time. I'm mostly a city guy, though, so not much."

"I see."

He studies the other man for a moment, deep in thought.

"She's too young to train much right now, but give it some thought. Until then, I don't suppose you'd mind if we started getting her used to halter and companionship?"

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I guess so. You're the expert here."

"All right." He nods, firmly. "I'll make the arrangements."

Peter smiled some at that, and started to leave, "Ok, thanks I appreciate. Didn't mean to put you guys on the spot. Believe me, was a shock for me too."

How would he like to practice playing with his niece? Because his sister might need help.

At any rate, a seven-month old has just been settled into his lap.

How had she known? It is precisely what he needs most.

The baby smiles and coos at him, and he looks at her in surprise until she opens her mouth wide in delight. Uncles make the funniest faces!

"Hello, dear heart," he murmurs, picking her up to kiss her cheek, and tips his head back to smile at his sister. "Hallo, Amy!"

She's Amy. She just knows things.

Susan's greeting is long and happy and completely unintelligible.

"Hello, Caspian. How are you this evening?"

"Very well indeed, now that I am in the company of these two lovely ladies." He watches Susan as she burbles something totally unrecognizable, and nods solemnly. "An excellent point, Susan. Tea would be nice. Won't you have some, Amy?"

"Tea would be just lovely, Caspian. Especially when it's drunk not in the company of the Lady Gwendolyn. Though one of us will have to share with Susan. She rather insists these days."

Susan looks at Caspian with very wide eyes.

"Been keeping out of trouble?"

"Of course," he answers, to both questions. A few quick words to a waitrat and tea is on it's way; he pours out a cup for Amy and one for himself.

He adds plenty of milk and a little sugar. Susan will almost certainly want a taste. "How is everything?"

Susan does. She's very curious about what the big people do these days. Which is clear by her baby bird impression.

"Everything is very good," says Amy. "Harvest festival coming up soon, which the Council enjoys talking at me about, and I just smile and nod and figure they'll tell me what events they've decided I need to attend when they finally decide."

There's a slight arch of her eyebrow. She privately believes that Caspian has an impressive capacity for trouble. "How about you? What have you been up to lately?"

He smiles at her, innocently.

So, so innocently.

Susan looks very skeptical. "Oh, well. The usual, I suppose. Work and chores and spending time with Lucy--and practicing, a bit."

It's no use being innocent with your sister, Caspian. Especially not this sister.

"Practicing?"

"For my life of crime, naturally," he laughs. There's a spoon on the tray; he fills it part-way with tea and lifts it to Susan's mouth so she can taste. "It doesn't quite come naturally, you know."

"Well, no, I shouldn't think it would."

Susan happily, if messily, takes the tea she's offered. And then waits for more.

"What, exactly, does this require you to practice?"

~~Other than wearing lip gloss, of course.~~

~~Quiet, you.~~

"Companions have years of training, you know," he tells her, eyeing Susan for a moment while sipping at his tea. "And I have had only a few weeks."

His niece looks back up at him with guileless blue eyes, and he tickles her gently.

His niece is full of guile. Really. Caspian should watch out.

"So what have you learned?" asks Amy, ever-so-guilelessly, herself.

"How to properly pour a cup of tea, among other things."

In point of fact, nothing that might be considered less than couth was discussed between Inara and himself. "And I've learned some stories, and some history."

Amy eyes him.

"Don't kings learn anything useful?" she asks. "I should think you'd already know how to pour tea."

"It's a different sort of tea," he tells her, looking amused. "There's a ceremony that goes along with it. And if I don't get it right, then they'll be able to tell I'm a fake right away."

Amy's eyes dance.

"You'll have to show me some time."

"I don't," he says, but his own eyes are merry. Susan, looking up at her uncle's face, waves a tiny fist in the air; his attention has been away from her for too long.

"My apologies, little lady," he tells her, and lifts her carefully to kiss her cheek and lay her against his shoulder.

"I'll talk you into it one of these days, so you may as well give in now," Amy points out.

Susan burbles and settles into her uncle's shoulder.

"We need to have our picnic before it gets too cold in Amber."

"Aye, you're right." He puts a hand to Susan's head; it is still large enough to cover most of the downy golden hair. "And it's been long since I've seen Amber in the autumn. We'll go soon, Amy. When will you be able to get away for a moment?"

"For you, any day but every second Thursday," she says. "Brothers take priority over almost everything."

Caspian knows what every second Thursday is, and he has to agree with Amy.

Husbands certainly take priority.

"Perhaps after my life of crime has come to an end," he suggests. It wouldn't do to be in Amber when Mal called for him, would it? "And that ought to be soon. I hope."

"Whenever and as often as you like," Amy says. "But yes, it would be rather tragic if Mal missed you. And after all your training. In tea-pouring."

"It's important!" He protests, but it's soft. Susan is moving sleepily on his shoulder, and he doesn't want to disturb her.

Amused, he gives her a mock-disappointed look. "Amy, you wound me."

"It's my job, dear my lord brother," she says, solemnly. "To keep you from taking yourself too seriously."

She smiles.

"It's good to see you looking well, Caspian."

"It's good to see you," he says, sincerely. His free hand reaches for hers, takes it gently and firmly.

She squeezes his hand.

"And Susan, of course," she says.

Susan yawns, and stirs a little, and then drifts off to sleep on her uncle's shoulder. Amy and Caspian drink their (non-ceremonial) tea and chat quietly until, she wakes up, some hours later.

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