milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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.

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Now Miniver gives Draco a *look*.

"I don't think I could eat much. Certainly not a banquet, for heaven's sake. Maybe some crackers or something."

Draco reached over to nuzzle, and kiss Miniver's neck.

"Then start with the sodding crackers, and work our way from there." He muttered with more nuzzling.

"Okay." Counter-nuzzle. Possibly there is nipping involved as well. "Oh, hang on. You call them something weird, don't you? Biscuits." He chuckles. "Right? We could go to your room and... just... be there. Quieter, without all this like, noise and stuff."

Pleased murmur at that, and Draco's head gently tilted back.

"Biscuits are also what you blokes call cookies. Mmmm... And yes, why... don't we... go then?"

"See, I can never remember. Why don't you people speak proper English?" he teases, poking Draco. "Yeah. Let's go."

Time to go HOME finally. Or... the closest thing to home he's god, which is anywhere Draco is, and even better if no one ELSE is.

Draco gave him a look, "Hang on...Miniver where am I from?"

".......England?"

Eyedart.

"And what do people speak in England?"

Smirking.

More eyedarting.

"Welsh?"

Don't kill him. Please.

"Not my fault you people can't tell the difference between a cookie and a biscuit."

Eyeroll, "English. My point is we speak English. So what does that make you so called Americans?"

"Betterrrr at pronouncing the letterrrr ARRRRRRRR?" Miniver guesses, emphasizing his Yankee accent for all it's worth.

That's it. Time to play poke the Yank.

*Pokes!*

"Hey stoppit okay OW! Bastard!" Thwap. "All right. Let's get the hell out of here before I have to break any bar rules."

Draco shrugged as he backed away and got up, "Fine, and I'll order up some room service."

Miniver drags himself out of the booth seat, takes Draco's hand, and follows him.

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