milliways_bar | (no subject)

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He's by the fireplace today on one of those very comfortable armchairs. His feet are crossed up on the coffee table and there's a copy of the Times open over his face. The tool of his trade is resting against the chair back, in easy reach for when he gets up.

It's a very odd position to find a skeleton in, but this is Milliways, after all.

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"Weally." She nods.

Allana's met a lot of bad mens. And if Death is someone who helps the dead along, and makes them feel better, it can't be all that bad.

She supposes.

There's a moment of silence as Death tries to figure out what to say next.

Thank you.

"You're welcome." Allana says simply, smiling at him. "I should go home, I guess. I have a court dinner to get weady for."

She pulls a face. That's what she thinks of royal affairs!

Death grins. He can't do anything else.

Ah. Society, he says. Hob-nobbing and what-not. Have... what is it you're supposed to have? Fun?

"I fink so." She says gloomily. "But I'll just get fawned over and told what pwetty pwincess I am."

She knows. Thanks.

And this is not fun?

"Not when I could be pwaying." She points out. "Or bwaiding my secretary's hair."

Ah, says Death knowledgably. These things are infinitely more fun.

She nods wisely. "Indeed."

Allana curtsies nicely. "Pleasure meetin' you, Mr. Death."

And you, Princess Allana.

Death bows where he sits. If we meet again maybe you could show me this bwaiding you speak of.

He has no idea was bwaiding is, but if it's fun, he'd like to try it.

Allana grins brightly and promises that she will show him, absolutely.

That said, she skips off towards the door, tripping slightly on her skirt.

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