Gabriel Tam (
gabriel_tam) wrote in
milliways_bar2007-04-27 09:48 pm
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In the last few weeks, he's been keeping hours that start before dawn and end deep into the darkest hours of the night. He looks it, too, enough so that a few media reporters have inquired.
When they do, Gabriel just smiles and tells them that some things are worth giving up a little sleep for.
Still, he knows he can't keep this pace up forever. He doesn't care-- it doesn't matter, as long as he can keep going long enough. Which means, of course, that he's got to find at least a little more time to rest, and soon.
With that in mind, Gabriel brings a sheaf of documents with him to Milliways, and settles at a side booth to review them. If he can get a few hours' work done here instead, then he can spend those extra hours sleeping back in New Mayfair.
Or so he hopes.
When they do, Gabriel just smiles and tells them that some things are worth giving up a little sleep for.
Still, he knows he can't keep this pace up forever. He doesn't care-- it doesn't matter, as long as he can keep going long enough. Which means, of course, that he's got to find at least a little more time to rest, and soon.
With that in mind, Gabriel brings a sheaf of documents with him to Milliways, and settles at a side booth to review them. If he can get a few hours' work done here instead, then he can spend those extra hours sleeping back in New Mayfair.
Or so he hopes.
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The sight of the fellow with paperwork provokes a look of pitying amusement. Why do so many people feel this is a place to get work done?
Or perhaps the question is: Why do so many people feel the need to get work done?
He appears rather conspicuously out of the air by Gabriel's booth, eyeing him curiously.
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"Nĭ hăo, sir."
It's a little crisp, but still cordial.
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"Hardly a sir," he says cheerfully, leaning against the side of the booth. "But good even all the same. Are you quite well?"
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"Is there another title, or perhaps a name, that you would prefer as a form of address?"
A beat, and Gabriel adds,
"And I'm quite well,
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"Well, I do suppose it depends. Tonight 'Foxglove' shall likely be in vogue, though if it were left to me, I should quite prefer 'Puck.'" He smiles pleasantly. "And you, sir?"
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"Puck. Gāoxìng jìandào nĭ. I'm Gabriel Tam."
A pause.
"Perhaps you'd care to join me?"
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Amiably, "Perhaps I would, at that."
And he slides onto the bench opposite, planting his elbows on the table.
"'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Gabriel Tam," he addds cheerfully. A tilt of his head.
"Should it be altogether too presumptuous of me to assume you are of some relation to the other Tams who frequent this place?"
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A beat.
"I'm Simon and River's father, yes."
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"How perfectly delightful," he says.
A wistful sigh. "I'm quite fond of River, you know."
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"I'm afraid I was unaware."
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Puck looks wounded.
"I had hoped I should merit at least a passing mention."
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A pause.
"And why is that?"
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"Oh ... you know," he says, waving vaguely. "We've rather a history, we two."
This is the truth!
It all began when Puck turned Simon into a penguin ...
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"I'd be interested in hearing it."
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"Are you quite sure you could not stand to hear it from the lady herself? Some of our dealings may be considered sensitive territory."
... Well. Not really, aside from the penguin. Not like Puck's planning to offer verbatim dialogues, anyway.
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It's quite cordial, really.
"And you are." A pause. "Unless there's something you're ashamed of, that involves my daughter... "
Something in the level politeness of Gabriel Tam's voice suggests that this would be a very, very bad thing.
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He tilts his head, thoughtful.
"Now now, where to begin ... you are aware, perhaps, that your Simon has, in his past, spent some hours as a penguin?"
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Carefully.
A pause.
"I may presume this was one of your, er, transformations?"
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All flickers aside, it is so nice to be recognized.
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A beat.
"You have quite the reputation."
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"And in this case, I take it this particular version of my reputation is concerned mainly with this end of things."
At 'this end of things,' he points lazily at one of Gabriel's papers, which turns abruptly into a white mouse before giving a squeak and fluttering back onto the table in its original state.
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Besides, a paper turning into a squeaking mouse and back again is not at all part of normal experience.
"... I see it's not unjustified. Evidently."
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"Evidently."
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"I take it River didn't approve?"
He may be tired, he may not be the sort of genius that his children are -- but Gabriel Tam's anything but stupid.
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He can see where River gets her perceptive nature!
"Not a grize, I'm afraid-- which was rather a shame. 'Twas all in good fun."