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[cheevy.livejournal.com]

Here is a Miniver. He's out of the infirmary, but one might say... not exactly looking spectacular.

He's sprawling more or less in a booth. Possibly he ended up here stopping to rest on his way to his room and forgot to move again. Or something.

There's a little enchanted model dragon skulking around the table and apparently trying to boil the glass of water a rat deposited on the table at some point, which is being ignored in favor of a book, which Miniver is sometimes reading, and sometimes staring off into space distractedly.

Come say hi to the recovering alcoholic.

Comments

[hysteriaprone.livejournal.com]

Roderick spies Miniver while getting some tea from the bar. His brows raise slightly at the sight of the man - he wasn't expecting him to be out so soon. However, he supposes he should be well enough, otherwise he would not have been let out.

He turns to the bar and mutters something. She, in turn, produces a book. It's a very big, hardcover book with gold drifting along the binding which Roderick takes over to Miniver's table and offers to him with a smile.

"Here."

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

...blink.

The OTHER book is abandoned in favor of the one Roderick hands him.

"What's this?" he asks, cradling it carefully in his hands.

Books are his BABIES.

[hysteriaprone.livejournal.com]

"Think of it as a get well present."

Roderick smiles as he points to the cover.

Canterbury Tales, of course!

And, if Miniver takes a look inside, he will see that it is a very old book.

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

Miniver pets it and opens the cover, his eyes wide.

"Oh. Oh my gosh. This is amazing." He grins up at Roderick. "Thanks, man. Hey. Sit with me? How are your arms?"

[hysteriaprone.livejournal.com]

Roderick sits slowly, placing his mug of tea onto the table with the utmost care.

"Not bleeding anymore," he says, arms unbandaged and hidden under his black robe. "How're you feeling?"

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

"Like shit," Miniver replies with all honesty, "but I'm not really seeing things anymore. Stuff... out of the corner of my eye now and then, you know? And things seem a lot bigger and brighter and louder but it's not like before."

[hysteriaprone.livejournal.com]

"I do know," Roderick says, expression sympathetic. "I want to thank you, though."

He pauses to take a sip of his tea, a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Speaking with you made me feel... better."

[dragon_twin]

Dragon you say? Well, at least it's different and interesting enough to catch Melou's attention. He flops in a nearby chair with a drink of his own, because there is no recovery where he's from, and watches it, amused.

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

What is it with kids being attracted to me? Miniver wonders, spotting the watching child.

"Hey, kid," he says, sounding tired but friendly enough.

[dragon_twin]

That earns Miniver a raised eyebrow look over Melou's glass.

"I'm not a kid. That yours?" He asks, nodding to the dragon.

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

Well... he's.... younger than Miniver? And probably younger than Draco?

"Yeah. It's just enchanted." The dragon snorts in Melou's direction. "Friend made it for me."

[dragon_twin]

It's more an automatic response of the teenaged and independent.

Melou grins at it. "Hope your friend's careful with that. Magic can be a dangerous thing."

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

"He's a wizard. I think he can handle it." Miniver smiles fondly at the dragon. "He can make birds, too."

[dragonofgrey.livejournal.com]

Was the staring possibly involving looking for somebody?
Because if so:

There was a white fox jumping up into his lap. With grey eyes, and who knew foxes could smirk?

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

Of course it was!

Miniver catches him in a delighted, if shaky, hug.

"Hi, you!"

Scritches are involved.

[dragonofgrey.livejournal.com]

There was a pleased fox yip, and brief lick of his hand reassuringly. And yay scritches! The white bushy tail casually wagged.

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

Scriiiiitchscritchscritchscritch.....

And perhaps a kiss on the fuzzy head.

"They let me out. Apparently I'm okay now that I've stopped talking to the ceiling."

And this makes things SO much better.

[dragonofgrey.livejournal.com]

Worried growl at that as the fox glanced up, and the tail stilled.

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

"Hey. I'm all right. Really. Might even try eating something later." Foxcuddles are the best medicine anyway. Miniver brushes his hand over the poofy white tail. "That must feel really weird to you. Cuz, like, it's not something you have when you're human. What must it be like to remember someone doing that? Weird..."

[fallen-april.livejournal.com]

"You're feeling better!" comes an excited exclamation, and Miniver is pretty much tackled by a six-year-old who's having some serious issues with her life.

For example, did you know that her parents had been telling her horrible, mean, untrue things? Like how she's a mistake and stupid and in the way? 'Cause she didn't, earlier.

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

Miniver catches her a little unsteadily, but with a big smile. "Hey, sweets. Yeah, I am. A lot better, actually. I'd pick you up, but I can barely pick MYSELF up. How you doin', kid?"

[fallen-april.livejournal.com]

"I'm okay, 'cept Mr. Paul said that my parents have been telling me horrible things, but I thought they were true and I don't know what to think anymore."

Pout.

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

"You know Paul?" BIG GRIN. "Paul's one of my best friends. And he's probably right, because Paul usually is right about everything even if it confuses you. What things did they tell you, sweetie?"

[fallen-april.livejournal.com]

"That I'm a mistake an' a problem an' that other things're more important than me."

Which... she always just accepted as fact.

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

Miniver frowns.

"Well um."

Pauce for consideration.

"My parents told me the same things. Uh..." Only no one ever convinced him it wasn't true. He just sort of accepts that he was nothing but an inconvenience until they got rid of him. But how the hell do you predict the same kind of future to a 6-year-old?

"Paul's probably right," he decides, because it seems like a safe assumption. "Whatever he told you."