milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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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"Well, in that case, I'm glad you're getting at least one day of joy and frivolity," he says with a grin and a wink.

"Cookies are always good. Not as good as smelling your mother baking the Christmas Cake in September, but on a par."

He nods sagely. David knows.

Nick smiles.

"I just wish I'd been able to get prettier material for the bags. My coat...is a bit drab, but it was all I had."

"You used your coat to make the bags?" he asks incredulously. "You should have asked. We have thousands at home."

Nick shrugs. It was a worthy loss.

"I didn't want to wreck the surprise. Besides, what is a gift without a little sacrifice?"

"That, my friend, is a good point."

He takes one of the cookies from the bag and bites into it.

What he does is what he least expects: he moans loudly, convering his mouth with his hand and laughing as his eyes go wide.

"Oh, my GODS they're fantastic!"

Nick grins widely.

"It's a recipe from an old friend. She taught me to bake them...several years ago, during a Christmas celebration. I was the only man she could bully into helping her."

He smiles.

"I wouldn't have traded it for the world."

"Oh, I can understand why," he says, mouth still full with cookies, and he munches his way through another one. "These are incredible, they really are."

He pulls Nick into a hug. "Thank you! It was so thoughtful of you."

Nick warms at the hug.

"I'm glad you like. That was my intention."

"And it's been well realised, Nicholas de Brabant; well realised indeed.

"I shall now have to plot to steal this recipe from you, you know that; right?"

He grins.

Nick grins.

"You don't have to steal it, you know. I'd be happy to tell you."

His eyes light up. "Really? Please do! I'd love to have these on hand when you can't be!"

Kid in candy store. S'all I'm saying.

Nick smiles and seems reaches into his suit to grab his pencil and pad, the one he always keeps with him...and realizes it isn't there.

"Oh goodness, I gave it to the orangutang."

Nick winces at David.

"Sorry...I don't seem to have my pad with me."

"No worries," he says, handing over his own. "Write to your heart's content."

He's practically bouncing on his toes.

Whether or not Nick chooses to peek at David's scribblings and Christmas list is up to him. He'll see his own name, but a large scribbled question mark sits next to it.

Nick shrugs and begins to write. It takes a good five minutes, but then he hands the paper to David with a grin.

"There you go. That should do it. Perhaps one time I'll get the rats to allow me to use the kitchen again and I'll show you how it's done. I can't rightfully pass on the recipe without a good flour fight."

He's grinning.

"A flour fight? That sounds like a challenge!"

Grinning like a loony.

Nick can too.

"Yes, I believe it does, my good sir."

He reaches out his hand. "The next time the kitchen is empty then, sir, you and I shall have our flour duel."

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