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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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"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?"

"I ain't got no choice. I'm an asset. Got hold o' power I'm not s'posed t' have, 'n' de only way t' get it from me is by marryin' me off. Far as she cares, Remy, my husband, is dead. So, easiest way t' bring my family under control is t' put a puppet king in place."

She's probably ranting. It's been a hard week, partying aside.

"I'm very sorry," he says quietly, frowning. "There's nothing anyone can do?"

"Thanks." She thinks for a moment. "I guess, if I were somehow able t' get Remy's exile revoked, 'n' convince him t' come back, bot' of which are outta my power t' do, she wouldn' be able t' marry me off."

She doesn't mention the fact that it's unlikely her fiance will live to see their wedding day. "But enough 'bout dat. Doan need t' be botherin' others with my problems."

"Sharing each other's problems is one of the side effects of being at Milliways," Charlie observes with a slight smile.

"Who's 'she'?"

Her face goes from sad to very dark. He might be getting a slight headache. Sometimes it's harder to keep herself under control than others.

"Candra. In order t' understan' why she matters, I got t' tell y' a whole lot o' stuff y' prolly doan wanna hear. But she's my boss, in a way."

He rubs his forehead. "Your boss, eh?"

"Yeah. But it's a deeper kinda t'in'. . .basically our family has a huge debt t' her f'r. . .lots o' things. I'm sorry, y' answered all o' my questions straightforward, but I really don' wan' t' talk about my job."

"Well, that's all right, then. Read any good books lately?"

His headache will probably start to fade after a little bit. "Oui! I spent de entire week readin'. Mos'ly history. . .One about Countess Bathory was especially good."

She's not smiling, but her expression isn't nearly as dark.

"Now who was she?" He gets comfortable for listening.

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poisonwine - 2007-02-23 12:26 (UTC) - Expand

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