ext_95152 (
notsoyoung.livejournal.com) wrote in
milliways_bar2004-12-06 10:03 pm
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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.
If anyone should approach him, they'd probably need to poke him to get his attention.
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"I shall now have to plot to steal this recipe from you, you know that; right?"
He grins.
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"You don't have to steal it, you know. I'd be happy to tell you."
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Kid in candy store. S'all I'm saying.
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"Oh goodness, I gave it to the orangutang."
Nick winces at David.
"Sorry...I don't seem to have my pad with me."
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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.
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"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.
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Grinning like a loony.
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"Yes, I believe it does, my good sir."
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