milliways_bar | (no subject)

Current Mood: busy

Entry tags:

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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."

"My mother was the same. Hers was boxing day. I'm telling you, she hated it.

"I like carols and songs. A mixture of the two. 'Oh, Holy Night' has to be my favourite carol, though.

"What about you?"

"Whoo--oh, I'm not sure. It's like trying to choose a favorite child. As far as carols go . . . 'Gabriel's Message,' maybe. Or the Coventry carol. Very pretty."

"Ah yes, very pretty indeed."

He smiles.

"Play me something. I miss your music."

He smiles and goes to the piano, and begins playing the soft minor chords to introduce the song. He sings softly, eyes closed.

Lullay, thou little tiny child,
By, by, lullay, lullay
Lullay, thou little tiny child,
By, by, lullay, lullay.

O sisters too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day,
This poor youngling for whom we sing,
By, by, lullay, lullay.

Herod the king in his raging,
Charged he hath this day,
His men of night, in his own sight,
All children young to stay.

Then woe is me, poor child, for thee,
And ever mourn and say,
For thy parting not say, nor sing,
By, by, lullay, lullay.

He sings along softly, eyes closed, listening mostly.

And when Charlie's finished, he looks at him and smiles.

"That was beautiful."