milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

much,
will scarlett

(no subject)

The door opens, and an outlaw enters. He seems marginally bemused to find his imaginary piece of heaven reappear no in a barn this time, but in someone's cellar. He'd almost forgotten that dream he had about a bar where one could watch the stars die...

...yet here it is again! Just when he was getting really hungry. How lucky is that?? The outlaws are blessed today!

He slips in and to the magical but not evil Bar, where he collects a mug of ale and a plate of mutton, and settles into a booth to watch the observation window. He sprawls with his legs up on the booth seat as if he owns the place.

Lord Much has arrived!

And this being a dream -- a dream where good things happen -- perhaps every now and then, his eyes wander a bit, back to the door, maybe hoping to see someone walk through it, maybe registering just a little disappointment when it isn't the one he'd hoped to see again...

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Here's someone he knows at least knows and doesn't know, ah the joy of Milliways.

Will has just come in from having a swim in the inlet and is now looking to get some lunch, he sees Much, and hesitates a moment before speaking, "Fair day, Much."

Oh yes. The peculiar happenstance of the Will Scarlett paradox... or is it a conundrum? Or maybe a metaphor? Much can't recall. He gives a cheerful wave.

"Hullo, Will-who-is-not-Will. And also is."

He's never got quite that greeting before, so Much gets a laugh,

"Aye, twould be me, 'ow are things farin' for ye, join me for a meal?"

"Happily!" There's plenty of room at the booth, and Much has barely touched his food yet. "Things... are well. And interesting. Yes, interesting and well. Perhaps not quite as well as they were last week, but well enough. Nobody's died, exactly, so... well!"

Logic.

Its familiar in so many ways, so Will catches the eye of a wait rat, "What do ye wish to eat, what 'ave ye tried 'ere?"

Since food is the best distraction ever from troubles in Nottingham.

"I've found the mutton here to be quite good." He finds he's lost his taste for venison lately...

"Aye, tis good, they 'ave food from all places an times too. Let me get us somethin' from where me lass is from. Can we get some o'that round thing from Chicago an two ales?"

The wait rat nods having figured out what Will means.

Much gives Will a curious look, but shrugs. Hey, he's easy. Food's food.

"What's a Chicago?"

"Tis a city in 'merica, land far to the West that 'asna been discovered yet, tis where me lass Molly is from."

"Foreign food?" Well, all right. He'd give it a try. "Foreign FUTURE food, even."

"Best food 'ere, e'en chocolate, which tis from somewhere in the West."

The pizzas arrive since Bar knows who's she's feeding, they're rather impressive and there's two mugs of ale and lots of random little side dishes too.

Much... is duely impressed. "Well it does smell good... What is it, exactly?"

"Na quite sure 'xactly, think tis a sort o'bread that 'as stuff cooked on it."

Will's talking around the piece he's currently eating, they each get a pie, which are the good messy sort.

"...Stuff on it?"

Well, whatever stuff that is, other than the obvious cheese, Much approves highly.

"Aye, Tuck's the one who knows 'ow to cook, I just know 'ow to eat."

As he does with great relish before asking,

"Do ye know if tis been any trouble 'tween Lady Marian an Sir Guy lately?"

"There's rarely not trouble," Much replies sullenly. "But she has to put up with him for whatever that's worth until King Richard returns for some reasons that don't make any sense to anyone but her and probably Robin also..."

Will's going to examine his pizza for a bit since explaining that he's worried about what he told Sir Guy when he'd kind of lost his memory is probably not the best way to be friends with this man,

"Aye, tis true 'nough."

"I wish they'd all get it figured out. What can you and I do about things like that? It's all so complicated," he whines, picking at the stringy melted cheese.

"Aye, seems like tis takin' 'em fore'er, an tis clear they love each other though ye'll ne'er 'ear either o''em say it. Twould do 'em a bloody lot o'good too."

"That's exactl what I keep saying!" Much agrees. "But do they admit it? Of course not. It's all, you just don't understand Much, you're too simple, blah blah blah..." He wrinkles his nose. "Maybe they're just too busy counting stars to see what's in front of their faces."

"An worryin' 'bout their duty an responsibility, but they should know, all o'Nottingham would be 'appier if they'd just admit it. Wish there was somethin' to be done with 'em, 'ittin' Robin doesna 'elp, 'e just mopes an Marian goes all ladylike an disbelievin'."

"Right! That is exactly right. Marian tells me her father can't run because people would lose faith, but how much more would they gain from seeing their real heroes together at last and not afraid to hide?"

"E'en more than possible also Marian means well an such, but she's a Lady though na like other ladies but still a Lady. Needs to realize, sometimes we know what we need."

"...I know a lady who was like her," Much says softly. "But you're essentially right."

The softness surprises Will and he looks at Much, "Do ye 'ave a lady, Much?"