milliways_bar | (no subject)

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At some point this morning, a little six-year-old sneaks out of the infirmary, where she decided to sleep last night.

She's in the same outfit as yesterday, and her hair could use a good brushing and being pulled back again, but she's cheerfully sitting on a barstool eating chocolate chip pancakes and drinking chocolate milk.

She's only here for one more day, folks, chat with her while you can!

[ooc: Once again, we have Princess Sarah Marilla Lucy Pevensie Blythe, better known to Bar patrons as April Cornwell. She's gonna be leaving sometime tonight, before grown-up April comes back from her trip, so tag before she leaves! Slowtimes are love if you can't thread now and just want a placeholder. ^_^]

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"They were blue?" she giggles. If she were a couple of years older, she'd compare them to Smurfs, but the little blue buggers haven't made the trip from France yet. "That's really silly."

"Yeah, it was rather silly." Mark grins. "It was pretty, though." He pauses. "I don't get to do interesting things all that often, really."

"Why not? Do you live someplace boring? I do, I live in Hartford, Connecticut, and it's real boring, mostly 'cause Mom and Daddy won't buy me any more books, 'cause they say I've got enough, but I already read all of them, and some of the Anne books are lost."

Pout.

Mark laughs. "I live in New York City. Which is interesting some of the time." He pauses, and grins. "The people I live with are really funny sometimes." Beat. "So, if someone were to give you some books, you'd like that?"

"New York City is really ace, I went there once!" Bounce bounce bounce.

"Books, I'd love books, I only have Anne of Green Gables and Rainbow Valley and Rilla of Ingleside from the Anne books and that makes me sad 'cause I never got to see Anne and Gilbert get married or see Jemmie born and that was sad and I want to see more of Walter because he died and that was very sad and I don't like wars 'cause they kill nice people, and the other people must have nice people too so I don't see what the point is. And I have the Narnia books and A Little Princess and The Secret Garden. And I had Little Women, but Miranda took it, so I didn't get to read it."

She has quite a babbling ability. And opinions.

Mark laughs. "Stay here a minute, dear." He walks to the bar, and returns with a bag, full of books, including a full set of Anne books, Little Women, and a few others, including Phantom Tollbooth because the mun loves it and things everyone should read it. "Here. This should keep you occupied for a while."

She squeals happily and pokes at the books, and then...

"Oh! Can I also have A... A Once and Future King? 'Cause it's about King Arthur and has knights and swords and princesses and Miniver said I should read it." It may be a while before she gets through it, granted, but she'd like to have it.

Mark laughs. "Of course, dear." He goes to the bar, then returns, with the book in-hand, putting it in the bag. "There."

"Thank you thank you so much!" she bounces and hugs Mark tightly. No one's ever gotten her books before. They're new books, and they're all hers.

She pulls one out and pokes around in the bag. Bar was smart - there's a skinny marker in there for exactly the purpose she wants it. She opens the front cover and very very carefully writes "Sasha Cornwell" in her neatest handwriting before sitting back proudly. No one can take her books if her name is in them. Out comes another book, and she repeats the process.

Mark watches her, quietly turning on the camera. Because, damnit, it's adorable. "You're welcome, dear. Just promise me that you'll never lose your love of reading."

"Never ever," she replies. "When I get big, I wanna write stories, like L.M. Montgomery and C.S. Lewis."

She pauses and ponders for a moment. "I guess I'll publish things as S.F. Cornwell, 'cause I think all the good authors use letters instead of their names." There is much nodding.

Mark laughs. "And I will read them, when you write them." Oh, look. He actually kept that promise.

"You promise?" She asks eagerly. "I'm gonna be famous. And really really good. And everybody's gonna want my autograph and my picture and my stories."

She's so cute when she's imagining being famous.

"I promise." Mark grins. "And hey. I have the first film of you." He pauses, then leans in. "Wanna hear another secret? I'm a film director."

GASP!

"You make movies? Can I be in one? Can you make a movie about Anne? Or about Lucy and Peter and Edmund and Susan? Or King Arthur?"

Mark laughs. "I might make one about Narnia sometime. Dunno about Anne or King Arthur, though. We'll see." He grins, though. "And, well, you just might be in one someday."

"That would be really cool. I live in Hartford and my Daddy's name is Matthew Cornwell and he's a doctor and my Mommy's name is Susan Cornwell and you can find me and take me to New York and I'll be famous and I won't be a problem anymore so they'll like me better!"

All said cheerfully.

Oh, dear. Mark barely keeps the wince back, but manages mightily. "Well, I'll definitely make sure I find you."

"You promise?" She asks, suddenly somewhat earnest and serious.

Don't promise to find her, Mark. Promise to try. Because she knows that if you try, you might fail, and it won't hurt as badly when you never find her if you don't promise for certain.

"I promise to try my hardest to find you, my dear." He grins, and holds out a hand. "We have a deal?"

She shakes his hand as firmly as a six-year-old can. "We have a deal," she says firmly.

Mark beams. "Wonderful."

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