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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"I did! Really, I did!"

He steals one of her fries, though, and nibbles at it.

She swats at him half-heartedly, but... well, really, how could she be upset with him for EATING?

"Well, that's good. You'll get your appetite back before too long." Hopefully.

He nods.

Not that he ever has MUCH of an appetite, which she may construe based on the shape he's in: mainly a collection of parallel lines going in various directions. He's quite geometrical, really.

Oh, she can tell.

She has vague plots to sic Mama Cohen on him when he's feeling better.

"Any new developments on the magic front?"

Miniver shakes his head.

"Not something you can learn to do overnight, y'know. Draco had to go to school for six years to do what he can do now. You have to learn spells and how to work them and everything."

"Mostly I meant the getting you a wand thing. But good to know."

Dip the sandwich in the ketchup, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.

"Not yet. Gotta go to a whole other world for it, you know. Gotta go to Tom's world, so... guess I gotta meet Tom, right? Or something. We'll get 'round to it." He watches her with the sandwich. "That's really weird," he informs her.

She pauses with her sandwich halfway to her mouth and blinks. "What's weird?"

"That. DIPPING a sandwich. In KETCHUP."

Everyone KNOWS what you need is MUSTARD.

No. Because mustard is of the devil.

April just rolls her eyes and takes a bite. "Okay, sure."

"It's CHEESE," he argues.

"So? You eat cheese and ketchup together on a cheeseburger. This is the same thing, just without the meat!"

"That is DIFFERENT. There is mustard involved! And pickles! And often no ketchup at all! You are DEFILING the very nature of that cheese with your puny tomato substance! You are repressing it! You are TRAUMATIZING it as we speak! OH CRUEL MORTALITY!" He throws his arm over his face and moans.

"Well, you're obviously feeling better," April says mildly. "And for your information, I do not eat mustard and pickles on my burgers. Cheddar cheese, bacon, lettuce, ketchup, and mayo."

Beat.

"I'm going to go back to my cruel dictatorship over my sandwich now." Dip, bite.

"You," he says flatly, "are EVIL."

And that is why he feels justified in liberating a few more of her fries.

"And you are unscrupulous. Sending raiding parties into my defenseless farmlands."

Glaaaare.

Smirrrrk.

"How else d'you expect me to keep my soldiers loyalty? Gotta feed 'em and pay 'em."

Thief!

"You, sir, are a dirty rotten thief."

She plops a kiss on his cheek. She doesn't mind, she can always get more.

"And you, miss, are a wench."

He notices she doesn't stop him stealing the fries.

Which means... he steals more.

April rolls her eyes and flags down a waitrat. "A plate of cheese fries, if you please, to be divided between us." The waitrat waddles off.

April eyes Miniver. "Shall we call a truce, my foe?"

"Ooh. Yeah, sure." :D! "But I get that guy with the limp and his chicken collection when we divide up the lands."

"As long as I get the goats, that's fine with me."

:D

"Fine. But I want the sheep, then."

"Half the sheep and a quarter of the geese. I do like a good roast goose on Christmas, wot?"

The last bit is said in the most outrageous British accent.

Miniver laughs.

"Oi, jes' don' ye go bearnin' i' to a crisp!"

Miniver's accent is a bastard child of Irish and Scottish.