milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Ah so, here is the recovering alcoholic hippie, in the bar, at a booth, with real food. Yeah, totally. He's eating it very, very slowly, but he does have what appears to be a ham sandwich. And tea.

And a really big, really old book, compliments of ~~Nearly Wristless Rod~~ Roderick Usher.

He is also playing with a spoon, twirling it in one hand lazily.

Please annoy.

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"...Isn't that kinda sad?" he asks, all sympathy. "I mean, just... drifting?"

He would know.

A soft laugh that contains no humour.

"Aye. It's one word for it."

[ooc: and sadly, I have to run! I should be back in a few hours, though, so slowtime?]

[Slowtime's love! :D]

Miniver frowns.

"Do ghosts drink tea? I can get you another cup..."

"My brother has managed to make me drink the stuff." He sounds...well, better. A little rueful.

"There's no tea where you come from?" Gasp! "Not even Lipton?" Which, almost anyone will tell you, is more like factory floor sawdust.

"No, there was tea. I just didn't drink it."

"Why?"

This is something incomprehensible to Miniver.

"Did you drink coffee, then?"

"God, no."

Miniver ponders this.

"Wine?"

"Sometimes. Ale, mostly."

"I've read about that. Even tried some, once, but I think it was really bad quality." He sighs. "I miss booze." His voice trapses upon the thin line nearly crossing into whining.

Raises.

Eyebrow.

"Y'know, the Bar's just there..."

Miniver stares at his teapot morosely.

"Promised Draco I wouldn't. I was in the infirmary for alcohol withdrawal. He'll KILL me if I go back now."

"Aaaaah. Well, good luck on that."

"Thanks." Mope. "So where ARE you from?"

"Britain. Died 517 AD, came in here...2000 and something."

"Whooooa. That's like... a really long time ago! Practically King Arthur's time! Groovy. I'm from America. 1967, though just barely."

Mordred's eyes darken at the mention of King Arthur.

"Yeah," he says, vaguely.

"That," Miniver gushes, "must have been WONDERFUL."

Ohhhh, Miniver.

"And what makes you say that? The man was an utter bastard."

"You knew him?"

Long stare.

Finally,

"Hard not to, when he was my father, doncha think?"

"Oh, shi--" Miniver promptly falls off his chair.

Well, he's never had that reaction so far, so he snorts.

"You're Mordred," Miniver says. "Jeeze. Random told me you were here but... jeeze."