milliways_bar | (no subject)

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In light of the latest wave of new arrivals (Random has spotted the pattern, have you?) the King of Amber is out on a couch, doing his paperwork and whistling, ready to give directions or explanations, or just generally be normal at anyone who comes by looking new.

He has a lot of fun playing the comforting, friendly type.

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"A few years, in my time. In Bar's...maybe a few months. Yourself?"

"A couple of years bar time, hell of a lot longer my own."

So a little bit longer.

"It's strange like that. The Bar, I mean."

"And so is Amber, so with both of them being strange at each other..."

He ends up with an even wider gap.

"I'm impressed that you've kept it straight."

"I haven't, really, I'm not entirely sure how old I am any more."

Which is sad, he used to get a lot of drinks that way.

"Neither am I. But, I just lost track."

"I used to bet people I was older than them, and when I named the number, I'd get a drink."

That was fun.

"...that's not a bad idea, I should try that."

"Be careful of atlantean."

That stuff sneaks up on you.

"My father still has nightmares about when my triplets and I got drunk on it in Atlantis itself."

Three teenage girls, all able to fly and utterly tipsy.

"Then you know," he nods, "It's surprising stuff."

"I know about it. But, thank you for the warning anyway."

"Welcome."

He goes back to doodling instead of writing.

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