milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Danny's sitting by the window, holding up his phone and moving it slowly from side to side, trying to see if he can get a signal. He's having no luck, of course - being outside of the space-time continuum causes problems with cellphones. That doesn't stop him from trying.

"Come on," he murmurs softly, presumably to the phone. "Please?"

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There's a little hazel-eyed brunette watching him.

She's never seen a cell phone before.

"Whatcha doing?"

He tries another pass with the cellphone, and sighs. Sorry, Danny. No luck.

"Trying to get a signal."

He glances down after a moment and smiles.

"Hi."

"Like a signal from space? Are you an astronaut?"

Curiouser and curiouser.

"Something like that. But no, I'm not an astronaut. I'm an executive producer."

That'll probably confuse her too, but Danny doesn't mind explaining.

"Like a producer on Broadway?"

He grins. "...Not exactly." He's impressed she knows about producers on Broadway, though. He flips the cellphone shut and slips it into his pocket. "It's a television show."

"Like The Muppet Show?"

She loves The Muppet Show.

"Exactly like The Muppet Show, except that there are no muppets."

"So it's just The Show? That sounds kinda boring."

She doesn't mean to be funny. It's just logical to her.

"No, it's called Studio 60. It's like a better, smarter version of Saturday Night Live, if you know what that is..."

"Daddy watches that show!" April exclaims happily. "It started when I was real little, like... two!"

Danny's head goes all tilty.

"It did? What year's it where you're from?"

"1980, an' I'm turning seven in..." She frowns. "I'm six and three quarters," she ammends.

Danny smiles at her. "What's your name? I'm Danny Tripp."

"I'm Princess Sarah Marilla Lucy Pevensie Blythe."

Obviously not her real name. She offers a hand for kissing.

Small children and actors are very alike. Sometimes you just have to humor them. So he takes her hand and kisses it, hiding a smile.

"A pleasure to meet you, your highness."

That gets a lot of giggling. Nobody plays along at home.

"I'm not really a princess. Well, sort of. Every girl's a princess. Like in the book!"

A Little Princess, that is.

"Which book?" Forgive him. Danny's not really up on children's literature.

"A Little Princess."

The "duh" is unspoken but evident.

"Oh. Of course." The smile hasn't faded. "Are you... here alone?"

"Uh-huh! It's my closet!"

:D

"Well, in that case I guess it's okay. A closet's better than Ithaca, New York in winter."

"Really? My Daddy says that Ithaca is a second-rate college town. He went to Yale, he's a doctor named Matthew Cornwell, but he's kinda stupid, 'cause he says I'm stupid, but I'm really not, I can read better than anyone in my class, and some of the first graders. I'm gonna be a first grader this year!"

"Have your Daddy tell that to my friend, he'll set him straight." Matt would, in fact, probably go into a long rant about how Ithaca is by no means second rate. Danny wouldn't wish one of Matt's rants on many people, but he'll make an exception in this case. He motions to the chair beside him, indicating for April to hop up and sit next to him.

"So you're in kindergarten now? You seem pretty grown up for a kindergartener."

"I'm not in kindergarten now, it's summer break," she explains patiently. "And I'm not very grown up, Mommy says I'm..." she frowns, trying to think, "pre... pre-sump-tu-ous and idiotic."

Her mother would also probably spank her for repeating that.

"Well, how am I supposed to know it's summer break? It's winter where I'm from." He leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful.

"People say things like that about me too."

Well, generally it's about the show. And... pretentious is the word usually used. That and synonyms of that. The critics have probably hit most of the synonyms in the thesaurus at one point or another.

"They're never right."

"How do you know?"

She tilts her head curiously.

"Experience," Danny answers blithely. "Also, I'm the executive producer of a national weekly sketch comedy show, and they're not, so I think I've got something on them."

She'll just ignore the parts she doesn't understand and smile up at him.

"I like you."

Cue bemused smile.

"Thanks. I like you too."

Maybe some day he'll use this as proof to Jordan that he'd be a good father. Small children he meets in bars like him. ...Well, alright, that doesn't sound entirely convincing, because that would bring up questions of why he's meeting small children in bars. Maybe he can simplify that to "small children like him." Yes, that sounds better.

"Mr. Danny, do you have a girlfriend?"

Because it's important that she know this. Or... something.

Okay, she's just curious.

"Um... no, I don't. Why?"

"'Cause if you did, you could get married and have sex and make a baby! I think you'd be a good Daddy, 'cause you don't talk like I'm stupid."

Danny wonders where this child learned to talk about sex so candidly. He's more amused than anything else.

"...Thanks. Tell you what, if I ever bring this woman named Jordan in here, could you tell her that?"

Small children are probably more charming than recommendations from the third earl of Kent.

She brightens and nods. "Uh-huh. Is she your secret love?"

Too many books. That's what it is.

He smiles. He can't help it.

"It's not really a secret anymore."

She sighs happily. "How romantic."

No, she really doesn't appreciate romance just yet, except that it makes people happy and they use pretty words like "adore" and "forever".

And "love".

"I thought so," Danny says with a self-satisfied smile. Yes, he thinks he's pretty charming.

"Are you going to get married and live happily ever after?"

"Well, I haven't... talked to her about it."

A number of phone calls over the winter hiatus do not count.

"You should. You should take her lilies and orchids and chocolates and buy a pretty ring and take her out for a picnic on a lake in a rowboat and ask her to be yours forevermore."

Yep, someone's read Anne of Green Gables at least once.

"I think that might be a little over the top, but I'll keep that in mind," Danny answers, doing an admirable job of not laughing. "Though I'm not sure if there's an actual lake with rowboats in LA."

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