milliways_bar | (no subject)

Something fluffy brushes against the man's leg.

The only reason that there is not an instant and instinctive kick is because Marsh has been here long enough to know that there are waitrats. His voice, flat and free of emotion, states, "Thank you, I need nothing."

Wellington is two and a half feet tall.

He looks up.

"S-sorry sir, didn't mean to startle you."

And furry. Marsh has no idea how large waitrats can get. He doesn't look up from his book, stating, "I am not startled. I simply have no need to order anything."

"I'm not a waitrat, they're smaller." Wellington says patiently. "And they have tails."

"Then you have no cause to be under my table, or to touch me." Marsh says, in the same flat tone.

"I didn't do it on purpose sir, sorry. And I hide under tables out of force of habit."

Shy smile. "It's all right, I don't bite."

"If you did it would break the rules." Marsh states, "This table was already occupied. Hiding under an occupied table is counter indicative. It would be reasonable to suggest that you were interested in contact but did not want to own responsibility." It is impossible to pick out Marsh's feelings on this - his face and voice are as blankly neutral as always.

"I'm agorophobic sir. We aren't supposed to show ourselves to humans at home, so I tend to stay under cover as I move around. I was just passing by."

Little smile. "I won't intrude sir, nice to have met you anyway."

He disappears off to the next table.

A hand settles on his shoulder.

"You have but to summon me," she says quietly.

Without shifting more than his arm, Marsh's hand settles on hers, "I am in no hurry, Rider, and I do not feel comfortable with summoning."

"It saves time," she says with a faint smirk on her lips, the long strands of her purple hair flying free for the moment. She is dressed in her clothes for battle, the tight black tube of a dress, the high boots.

"Time does not pass there when I am here." Marsh points out, releasing her hand and standing. A bookmark is placed in his book, and he quietly hands it to a rat to be re-shelved until he returns. "I knew that you would find me eventually, and when you did that you would be ready to go."

"I would prefer you summon me," she says lightly. "I'm quite ready to go."

"I have this feeling" Marsh states as he opens (http://calledironeyes.livejournal.com/1752.html) the door, "that we are going to have another fight. I am not comfortable summoning you as though you were a possession."

"Perhaps I am mistaken," she says smoothly. "I don't recall fighting with you."

But then she stepped through. (http://calledironeyes.livejournal.com/1752.html)

It doesn't take more than a minute or two before they step back again, Marsh holding the door for Rider. He closes it behind himself with a click.

Her hand settles on his hand, still on the door.

"I am sorry."

Marsh shakes his head "Do not be sorry, Rider. I am not." The faint hint of a smile touches his voice and lips alike, "Had it succeeded then I would not have had chance to see your eyes."

She thinks of Shirou.

It is the past.

"No, you wouldn't have," she agrees. Then she shifts one finger, still on his arm.

His other hand comes over and rests on hers. There is still a power imbalance, there may always be, and because of that he only rests his hand on hers. "It is not the victory hoped for. I still came out ahead."

She has many things she could say. There are many things she considers saying. Finally, she decides on something.

"Sherbert," she says quietly, "with plum wine. It's very good."

It is neither invitation nor dismissal of what had been said in his world. It was extension.

"Thank you." Marsh says - acknowledgment of both her words now and the actions not taken. He flags a waitrat down and orders two bowls before slowly moving back toward the table.

Slowly so that it is her choice to rest hand on his arm or not.

She keeps her hand on his arm.

"I was given such by a friend."

Sakura. She hasn't spoken of Sakura.

"It is my favorite dessert."

If she could have such a thing.

She can. At least as far as he is concerned she can.

"It pleases me to hear that you have had friends." Marsh says quietly "Thank you for sharing it with me."

By the time they sit the two bowls are waiting for them.

She sits next to him. Her hand is still on his arm.

"A friend," she says. "We shared... many things."

She won't explain the Mato household. It was not to be spoken of. Not that she is bound any longer by them. But it was still not to be spoken of.

After another moment he rests his hand on hers again. He doesn't need to eat right now. Getting to know her matters much more.

"I do not recall the last time I called someone a friend." Marsh admits. "I have been a recluse for many months."

"She was the first.

"In millennium."

She pulls the spoon from the sherbet and lifts the bowl to sip from the sweetened wine.

A moment later, she holds out the bowl towards him.

Marsh takes the bowl from her and after a second places his lips where she placed hers to take an equal sip. "It is very good Rider. I am sorry that you had to wait so long between friends."

She shakes her head, the soft lavender strands moving with her.

"The first."

In ever. Her sisters did not and never would count.

He stills at that, and sets the bowl down to brush a straying lock of her hair aside. "I am sorry."

She stills as well, at his touch. Then, with visible effort, she swallows nothing at all and nods.

"Truths do not require apologies. Especially not from you."

"Perhaps not." Marsh says quietly "But I feel sympathy anyway and wish that your life had been easier."

"And yet, I would not be myself. Nor would you be yourself. And it is no longer true."

"This too is true." Marsh says quietly.

She picks up his bowl and sips the sweetened wine from the edge. Then she holds it out to him.

He takes it in his turn, sipping and passing it back.

There's a Muldoon nuding a salad around and growling to himself. Giving up meat is nessescary, very nessescary, but there are days when he'd kill for a good burger.

Which is probably what makes him rise and head toward the table, intending to ask for something a little more substantial from bar. If he's not careful, he's gonna bump into your table man!

Marsh hooks one foot around a table's leg and moves his table out of Muldoon's way with a casual gesture. He does not look up from his book and says in an utterly flat tone, "You may wish to watch where you're going."

Muldoon's only response is to look up in surprise, ready to mutter an apology based on the fact that he's upset about his salad-only to-

Sneeze.

Loudly.

The motion is surprising enough to him that he almost drops the bowl, catching it with unnaturally quick reflexes before he turns to the guy and rubs his nose, "....Sorry. Didn't see you."

"I guessed." Marsh states without change in inflection. His scent is spiked with mild amusement - but his face? Flat and stern.

Muldoon is nowhere near the expert that spoon and wells are, something makes him picture this man amused-trying to find laughter in those very serious eyes.

It's hard to picture him doing anything remotely amusing. Muldoon can really respect that.

Marsh's eyes are as coldly blue as his face is stern. There are the shadows of lines beside his mouth which suggest that he can smile - but they are faint enough to suggest that it doesn't happen often. The tang of amusement increases slightly as Muldoon stares at him. "Yes?"

"...I uh..."

Fumble for a lie! fumble for a lie!

He draws himself and tries to put on his own stern expression, failing miserably, "...I thought I saw-y'know-spinach. Something..."

There's a pause, "Kind of zoned out there, my apologies Mr...Mr..."

"I am Marsh." Marsh says flatly "I have no titles. No Skaa has titles."

"...Skaa?"

An eyebrow is raised, "...human?"

It's the nicest way he can say "alien?" without asking if the guy's an alien.

"That is under debate." Marsh says without emotion "The Steel Ministry states that we are subhuman and fit only to live and suffer until such time as we die or are killed."

"Yeah, I know that shit." Muldoon snorts, "Less then human and all that BS. Fucking politicans. You know what I say to that? Kill um' back. No good ever came of politicans."

Marsh says, quite mildly, "Only noble blood carries magic. The Skaa rebellion has been failing for a thousand years."