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It's always a complicated process, trying to jibe the various timelines he has to deal with, but Charlie's determined. This is his third Milliways-based Lent, and he's not going to let it slide just because it's summer in San Diego. Sometimes a bloke needs a time of contemplation and discipline. Even this bloke.

So. Doorway in from California early this morning, out to Las Vegas for Mass, and back to the Bar again.

For a guy with ashes on his forehead, he looks pretty peaceful.

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"Brilliant.

"Well, let's see . . . in 1989 I was ten years old and not paying much attention to the outside world . . . ever heard of a band called Driveshaft?"

The easiest starting point, really.

She hasn't heard anything that isn't U2 or Madonna in a loooong time. One of the downfalls of living in the middle of a swamp. "Non, unfortunately. Kinda got limited music selection."

She summons a waitrat, so Charlie can order.

"Hm. Well, it's still too early, anyway. Let's see . . ." He grins at the waitrat and says, "The usual, if you please--but no bacon."

The rat chitters and scampers off.

"So, what do you want to know? Politics, music, movies? Keeping in mind I'm English and find American politics incomprehensible at best and exasperating at worst."

Belle makes a derisive noise. "Let's jes' say politics is de las' t'in' I'm worried about. I get an interesting look at it. So. . .jes'. . .technology. What y' all got? I know about cell phones, but what else?"

"MP3 players?" He takes out his iPod to show her.

Belle kinda looks at it, completely at a loss. "Okay, what's an mp3?"

He grins and gives her the earphones. "It's a way to record music digitally--make it small and portable.

"Go on, give it a listen."

Headphones she can deal with.

Oh my goodness. It's not crappy pop music. She smiles, her eyes a bit wide. "De sound's really clear. De music's good too."

Silently, she vows to someday buy one of these pod things.

Of course not. Charlie has excellent taste.

He beams, and grins even wider when the waitrat brings his waffles. "You are currently listening to Miles Davis's 'Kind of Blue.' Almost as good as hearing the man himself."

Belle loves the blues. And she likes Miles Davis. Charlie is winning a whole lot of points with her. Which can be exchanged for free food and drinks at a later date.

"Oui."

"Je suis le presidente de Berundi," Charlie murmurs, to amuse himself. It's the only French he knows aside from some things he wouldn't say to someone he's just met.

. . . unless they really wanted him to.

"As far as technology goes, that's my favorite. There's probably a lot of improvements to cars and airplanes and what-have-you, but being as music is my life, the mp3 player wins."

Belle laughs at Charlie's claim, and nods. "I c'n understand dat."

What next? "Science. Um, any new discoveries, planets wit' life, human mutations, dat sorta thing?"

If you're the kind to catch it, there might be a minuscule amount of emphasis on the 'human mutation' part. But it's there.

"Um . . . Pluto's not a planet anymore. Been delegated to being a moon. We got some really pretty pictures from the Hubble telescope, as I recall, but still no signs of life . . . humanity seems to be stumbling along as normal, as far as I know."

"Really? Dey revoked it's planetary status? C'n dey even do dat?"

Belle hopes she still gets the chance to buy a pod thing in her universe. Though she's kind of relieved that the hurricane he'd mentioned earlier might not apply to her.

He shrugs. "All the astronomers get together and agree, I suppose? Has something to do with its orbit, I think. I dunno--I never paid much attention in science class."

There is an answering shrug. "I never took one, so y' ahead o' me. Hmmm. . .any good movies? Musicals? Artists?"

"Oh, music," he says with a laugh. "Oasis, and Rufus Wainwright, and Tom McRae, and Gorillaz and Coldplay and Aimee Mann's solo work, and Death Cab For Cutie though my husband thinks I'm a sentimentalist for liking them, and Green Day and Sufjan Stevens and the Mountain Goats and the Eels. To name a few."

Belle blinks at him. She'd meant graphic artists, but hearing him ramble about bands was amusing. "Death cab f'r Cutie?" Her voice is somewhat incredulous.

"I don't have any of their songs on the iPod or I'd play one for you--don't have my guitar, either. But, lord, the best voice in pop music right now and the best lyricist . . . they have this one called 'Passenger Seat' that melts the husband into goo."

"What's y' husband like? 'Side's gooey." She's simply fascinated by him.

Charlie beams like a little ray of sunshine.

"He's wonderful. Gorgeous, funny, brilliant. A good cook and a good dancer and fabulous in bed--well, you probably don't want to hear about that part. But he's everything I never knew I always wanted, yeah?"

She can't help but beam along with him. "Sounds wonderful."

"He is.

"How about you? Married, cohabitating, otherwise?"

"Married 'n' otherwise. I've got an interesting family. very tradition bound, 'n' very powerful. I have a husband, who's a marvelous man, m' bes' friend ever, but he's banished from Nawlins. I also got a finace, who I'm not incredibly fond of. I doan even think I know his last name."

A pause.

"Nope. Not dat I care, mind y'."

" . . . you know, I'm all for untraditional relationships, but why would you agree to marry somebody you're not fond of? Particularly when you've got a husband already?"