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David walks into the bar. ~~You think he'd have seen it.~~ He goes to the buffet table, fills up a plate, and sits down at a table with a notebook and a pen and is lost deep in concentration, writing.

If anyone should approach him, they'd probably need to poke him to get his attention.

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Charlie spots David and plays a little of Nowhere Man just to see if he notices.

He of course recognises the music, and recognises that it being a Beatles tune, it must be Charlie. He looks around the room, trying to place him, and, upon seeing him at the piano, grins and waves.

Join me? Or shall I join you?

Charlie makes a c'mere gesture. He needs to be at the piano but David can write anywhere.

David grins and picks up his notebook, pen, and makes his way over, pushing a set of half-moon wire-rimmed glasses up his nose.

"Morning! Or, er, afternoon. Evening? I never know. Hi! How are you?"

"It's elevenses," Charlie says with a decided nod. "I am excellent this morning. Excellent. New song in my head and Christmas in the air and it's my birthday in two days. That's not a hint, it's just a fact.

"So I'm very good indeed."

"Oh, SHIT!" is all he says, fumbling for his pen and hastily scribbling a note on his hand. "How old is that you are this year? 627, 628?"

"Twenty-six," Charlie says, somewhat mystified by his reaction. "Over the hump and downhill towards thirty. So I expect I may grow up any day now.

"David, don't fret over it. I don't expect as party or presents or anything. I'm just glad to be here. Made it through another year alive, yeah?"

"Hey, I'd give my life to be 26 again!" he says.

"And you know how lucky you are for that, don't you?" he asks, not wanting to dampen spirits, but he knows how true it is. "And I'm not going to throw a party. Just remember... presents. Or something."

He whistles innocently, looking around the bar, trying to look innocent.

"I know," he says softly. "I'm very aware.

"A Happy Birthday on the day is all I expect. Honestly. Birthdays were never a big deal when I was growing up and I certainly don't expect them to be now."

"If that's all you're expecting, then a little something extra will be a bonus and a surprise," he says, grinning widely.

"You should celebrate your birthday. You're all grown up now!"

He laughs.

"I'll maybe have a better dinner than usual and I hope to have a song done by then, but as for celebrating there's not anything I particularly want to do. Well, there is, but there's no way to do it here, so . . ." He shrugs. "No matter."

"No, what do you want to do? I'll see what I can do for you, if it's do-able."

He touches Charlie's face gently.

"It's very silly . . . I want to play golf."

"Golf. 'Golf is a good walk wasted,' I believe I remember it being said.

"Fortunately, I agree with you. Golf would be splendid."

He grins, conspiritorially.

"I'll see what I can do."

"'Golf is a good walk spoiled by a small white ball,'" Charlie quotes with a grin. "So you can conjure a course and a quiet spring day? I'd love to see it."

"I can't promise you anything, but I'll do my damndest, if that's enough?"

He smiles. It's bright enough to light the room.

"All right." Charlie has to laugh--he'd like to see what David's damndest turns out to be.

He holds his hand out. "My best. Shake on it."

Still chuckling, Charlie shakes. "But if all you can manage is a cake, I like cake."

He laughs.

"I'll bear that in mind.

"You won't be disappointed, will you? If I don't manage golf?"

"Of course not. Like I said--all I'd like is a 'happy birthday.' The rest--" H waves his hand. "Extras."

He smiles and takes Charlie's hand again, kisses the knuckles. "You're so easy to please, Charlie Pace."

"It's just a birthday," Charlie says with a shrug.

"I like celebrating birthdays. Makes more sense to me than Christmas, at any rate."

"I like Christmas too," Charlie says comfortably. "Even if sometimes I'd get Christmas-slash-birthday presents. Mostly for the music, I must say."