milliways_bar | (no subject)

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That man?

Sitting at the piano?

Playing a light, jazzy tune?

Doesn't look like he could be any happier. The same goes for the dog by his feet.

If you're watching his hands closely, you may spy a gold band on the fourth finger of his right hand.

[ ooc; Yeah, I've been neglecting this pup. I'm going to be a little laggy, but I will be tagging back. ]

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"No!" he says, grinning widely. "Oh, congratulations. That's wonderful."

Pongo (having only just woken up), barks.

"Thank you," Roger nods, right hand back on the piano.

"I'm not sure how long it's been since I've been in here, bar time wise, but it's been about three months on the other side of the door until it showed up today. Which is -- feels sort of odd." He shrugs at this point. "But anyhow. Anita's absolutely lovely. Coincidentally, she owns a dalmatian as well - Perdita. But, oh, I really couldn't be happier."

"You've been gone for a while," Byers says, reaching down to pet Pongo. "I'm afraid I haven't had much time to practice, lately."

Cue guilty look.

It really isn't his fault!

"Well, I don't exactly blame you," Roger replies, shrugging.

"From the look of things, there's been a lot going on. If you would be so kind as to enlighten me?"

"Um."

Byers distractedly taps an A key.

"I have a... girlfriend, I think," he says, then adds, a bit hastily: "I also almost died in my sleep."

A lot going on indeed.

Roger doesn't really know where to start, and his expression is sort of going between this (:D) and this (D:).

They're not exactly statements that are often paired together.

"As I am not sure which part of that I ought to be addressing first, let's start with the bad news, and move to the good from there. Dying in your sleep -- I did see a few notices on the board about that. You are alright, now, though? I mean - did you get hurt?"

"I'm fine, now," he says, "though I did get hurt."

He takes a breath.

"I was stabbed in the shoulder. I'm okay, though."

He moves his arm up and down to demonstrate this.

Roger's been getting the general gist of the Old Kingdom happenings just from watching people and reading the bulletins, but it still shocks him somewhat.

"I'm glad," he says, nodding. "It does worry me a bit -- seeing so many tired faces after having been out of the loop for so long."

He pauses, looking out at the bar at large before turning back to Byers, smiling.

"So. You think you have a girlfriend. Explain."

FIDGET.

"Um, yeah, her name's Niki and we spent Valentine's day together."

(The events of the day are yet to be determined, though, as the mun waves little slowtimey flags.)

"I. Don't think that particularly requires an 'I think'," Roger says, grinning.

(He would say, "Unless it went horribly," but things like that ~~don't happen~~ are inconceivable in Disney-canon-land.)

Byers starts blushing.

"Yeah, well..."

He has no real response to that, except for more blushing.

Roger is too nice to make fun.

"Well, I am happy for you. I haven't met her, which really doesn't mean anything since I haven't been here for forever and a month -- is she new or am I simply obtuse?"

Two months is so forever. Stop acting like it's not.

"Very new," Byers says. "Just-arrived-last-week new."

"Oh, that is new."

He isn't entitled to say anything in terms of, 'That was fast,' given that Roger and Anita, well. It took a very short time for them.

"She's adjusting well?"

"As far as I can tell, yes," he grins.

"She's an actress."

"From your own time period?"

"No, she's from the 50s."

"Not too far from my own time, then," Roger says thoughtfully.

He was alive during the fifties!

"What's she like?"

Is Roger looking for an elaborate explanation? Because... he isn't getting one.

"Amazing."

He thinks that sums her up best.

This would probably be Roger's response if anyone asked him what Anita was like.

He simply grins, adding the pedal to his improvisations.

Pongo does the dog equivalent of a giggle.

Niki's an actress. Niki sings.

Byers has an idea.

"... so, um -- want to check on my progress?"

Roger has a brief moment of, '... what?' before he (rather abruptly, admittedly) nods and gets up from the bench.

"It's all yours."

Byers takes a seat and has to resist cracking his knuckles before he shows (and tells) Roger that yes, he finally has all his key names properly memorized!

Roger pulls up a chair, resting his elbow against the piano.

If anything, he looks proud.

(He hasn't given lessons before.)

And Byers looks very, very nervous -- his fingers haven't tripped yet, though!

This is true.

If it is any comfort at all, there isn't much of anything that could remotely perturb Roger at the moment.

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