(no subject)

[fighting_mad]

Plourr has a ringside seat to all of the confusion tonight, sitting at an in-the-way (as opposed to out of it) table. Her feet are up on the table, and she still has a bowl of pasta in hand, but most of her attention is going toward watching the goings-on with unmitigated amusement, and occasionally snickering. This is going a long way toward easing the mood caused by the discovery that she can't wear half her kriffing wardrobe. As such, she's wearing a fitted long-sleeved tunic and dressy knee-length black shorts -- simple, elegant, and definitely not a choice she would ordinarily make for a night when she could be wearing what she wants.

Unfortunately, what she wants isn't feasible; no one makes maternity wear for off-duty pilots.

This is definitely going a long way.

She bursts out laughing as one particularly befuddled-looking individual wanders past.

Sometimes, Milliways is brilliant when it comes to entertainment value.

Comments

[will_scarlett]

Here comes one now though he's got good balance and a rather odd outfit but a lovely wide grin.

[fighting_mad]

This one doesn't look quite as confused as some of the others; less entertaining! Still, Plourr isn't one to look away or pretend she hasn't been watching. She shamelessly salutes the boy with a forkful of noodles, before eating them.

[will_scarlett]

Will turns to bow to her,

"Good day, milady, I seem to 'ave forgotten some things an been gettin' conflictin' reports. Does the name Will Scarlett mean anythin' to ye?"

[fighting_mad]

Plourr inclines her head graciously, and, with a mouthful of noodles, says, "Not a damn thing. Should it?"

[will_scarlett]

"Just wonderin', Belle told me tis me name, but Captain Ryan said I'm a thief an a cutthroat while she said I'm a good man. Keep 'opin' I'll meet someone else who knows more o'me story. Though tis just lovely to be 'ere, keep wantin' to dance but tisna proper music."

[fighting_mad]

Plourr looks -- rather bemused at this influx of information, though she takes it in stride. 'It's Milliways; what can you do?' is something of a way of life here.

"You don't remember your own name? Apparently, you don't remember that you can dance without music, either."

[will_scarlett]

"Aye, 'ad to be told it, though doesna worry too much. Tis Midsummer an aye ye can dance without music. Ye're brillant, lady."

Will is seventeen and actually acting seventeen as opposed to how he normally is, thus there's a bow and another grin,

"After ye finish yer meal would ye dance with me, fair lady?"

[callitavesper.livejournal.com]

Bond sits unceremoniously at her table and asks, "Excuse me, but do you have any idea what the bloody hell is going on?"

It is possible that the mun just wanted to use this icon.

[fighting_mad]

"None whatsoever," says Plourr, and she's grinning something fierce. "But it's the best thing I've seen all day."

[callitavesper.livejournal.com]

Bond shakes his head.

"I feel like I'm in a zombie picture."

[fighting_mad]

"Why zombies? It's just a bunch of people wandering around, looking like total asses," Plourr points out reasonably.

[callitavesper.livejournal.com]

"Exactly."

[fighting_mad]

"I'm not following your logic, Bond," she says.

[blackholesandrevelations]

"Baby!" John pointed at her stomach, looking vaguely suprised.

[fighting_mad]

"Idiot!" Plourr shoots back, pointing at Crichton.

[blackholesandrevelations]

"Meanie." John sighed. "Gosh. A guy can't even state the obvious around here anymore."

He rubbed his head. Ink from his fingers transferred to his forehead. Go on. Laugh.

[fighting_mad]

Plourr -- pulls a bit of a face. "It's the obvious?"

[blackholesandrevelations]

"Well. It's a bump. Either you're pregnant or you ingested a giant egg." John said with a completely straight face.

[fighting_mad]

"--Kriffing weird," says Plourr, and she points at him with her fork, "and completely untrue."

[song_tra_bong]

"Hey, you!"

Mary Anne pulls up a chair, and look--she comes bearing s'mores!

"Long time, no see."

[fighting_mad]

Plourr has been eyeing those very same food articles for a minute or two (along with Mary Anne herself), and plotting how best to get to them. She'd been just about to make her approach when Mary Anne up and saved her the time and effort.

Those are the best kind of friends.

"I was just about to say the same to you," she says with an easy grin, politely lowering one foot from the table (but leaving the other where it is). "I've been around; what's your excuse?"

[song_tra_bong]

"I've...been not as much around," she admits.

"Was getting settled into my new house at first, then was settled and got stir crazy. Traveled for a little while, and now I'm back here, playing catch up."

She slides the plate of s'mores across the cleared section of table.

[fighting_mad]

"How's the new place?"

She abandons her pasta without a second thought, to pick up a s'more and examine it.

"And what're these?"

[song_tra_bong]

"Very nice. Plenty of room with a view of the ocean, and far enough out of town that we don't have to be social unless we feel like it."

She grins. "And these are one of the great feats of human engineering. It's called a s'more--partially melted chocolate and marshmallows held together with graham crackers. Trust me, they're ridiculously good."

[fighting_mad]

"And the husband?" she asks, snagging a s'more for herself. There is a moment of manuevering as she figures out how best to hold it, and then she takes a bite, and --

Her eyes close as she slowly chews.

This is probably a good sign.