milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It's been a while.

Okay, so it's been way more than a while, but the narration would go so far as to err on the side of diplomacy lest it be included in the general air of 'royal lazyasses' that seems to follow its charges around on a near-constant basis. It is not lazy - it is abused and mistreated.

"- should have seen your face when it started moving!"

"It was a tree. Trees don't move - there are roots involved - it's rather the point, Yvaine."

"So you talked to one, but they cannot move?"

"Yes, but that's an entirely -"

You see what it has to live with on a daily basis?

The couple that appears along with the bickering looks rather like they've been walking a great deal - vaguely dusty, slightly threadbare, and sun-darkened (well, one of them, at least) - but altogether rather pleased, if a little footsore.

"Oh," the star remarks, blinking once at the sudden change of scenery and grinning widely. "Civilization!"

Company would be welcomed. (As would dinner, more likely than not, but first thing's first.)

(OOC: ~~Two for the price of one! It's sort of a discount ... only not at all.~~ AND NOW - for bedtime!)

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He laughs. "She doesn't need to know how old you actually are."

Actually, he didn't really need to know either, but hey. The more you know!

After a very long delay, a pair of waitrats return with Tristran's previously mentioned order that includes the famous pie the two of them have been bickering over.

"Ah, food's here."

He doesn't know specifics!

Which would probably be even more traumatizing to poor, misguided human beings and their spectacularly limited views of lifespans.

She laughs, "Don't let me stop you from getting a proper meal, dear."

"Not even the pie bit?" he asks teasingly. There is a rather shiny slice of it sitting on one of the plates right now.

It is good looking pie. Warm and sweet-smelling and filled with apples.

~~The narration could go for a slice right about now.~~

"Not even the pie bit," she confirms, generously, grinning brightly at him.

Because sometimes she's just completely wonderful like that.

A nod, "Because that would be mean."

He laughs a bit, leaning over to kiss her briefly before starting his lunch/dinner/whathaveyou.

"I did believe you, by the way," he says. "In case you didn't think I did - which would be terribly silly."

"I know, Prince Charming."

She settles back comfortably, shimmering slightly.

"Though you will have to share the pie," she replies solemnly. "As punishment."

"Oh, I don't mind," he says.

He then proceeds to scoop a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Oh, food. It is such a marvelous thing.

She's sure it is - from a reasonable enough distance.

She'll gladly absorb the food-related marvelousness from observation alone for the moment.

"Better than your last couple of meals, dear?"

"Well, considering my last couple of meals have consisted of half-rotten berries from that bush, and the terribly stringy - whatever it was ..."

He trails off.

No more needs to be said on that.

"Poor dear."

She presses a quick kiss to his temple and smooths his hair back behind his ear, grinning at the point before settling back again.

"We'll have to stay long enough for your stomach to recuperate then."

There is some distinct beaming at that. This is one of the many reasons why he loves her.

And he would totally tell her so, too, if he wasn't so busy stuffing his face.

Oh, well.

Her other motivations have nothing at all to do with the previously mentioned mattress either. Or the things that go on the previously mentioned and unimportant mattress. (Namely them. Comfortably. Without rocks in their spines.)

She just rolls her eyes.

... and pointedly doesn't watch too closely.

Food is messy.

No rocks in spines is a very lovely image to have indeed, and after he is fully fed and content, he would like nothing more than to sleep on a soft, comfortable mattress for a thousand years.

He has missed all of this, despite their adventures out in the wild (which he also enjoys.)

More meat is eaten, more ale is drunk, and finally he is ready to get to the dessert.

In the meantime, the star has managed to wriggle herself far enough down in the booth seat that she's able to prop her legs up on the opposite side.

Because they're tired, man.

And luxuriating is serious business.

He watches her interestedly as he draws the plate of delicious pie towards him.

"Tired?" he inquires.

"Comfortable."

The star grins, tilts her head.

"Full?"

(She somehow doubts it.)

(She would be right.)

"Nearly," he returns, returning the grin with one of his own.

"Did you want a bite?"

"Perhaps in a moment or two."

Once she feels motivated enough to sit up properly again. It does smell rather good.

An easy laugh, "Enjoy your time with your pie while you still can."

"I'm afraid by the time you're ready to have some, it'll be gone," he admits with a slightly guilty look.

"Then again, I suppose we could always order more."

He isn't opposed to that.

She lets out an incredibly long-suffering sigh and rights herself, smoothing out her skirts half-heartedly and tugging his arm for leverage.

"Very well then," she replies, free set of fingers held out expectantly. "I will have my bite now."

He lets out a laugh, cheerfully ignoring the sigh.

"Very good," he says, cutting off a small chunk from the edge and lifting it up towards her mouth.

The act is slightly clumsy, but tender.

"I can -" her eyes pause mid-roll and she glances over at him, smiles affectionately. "Fine. We will do it your way."

Such a sap.

The bite of pie is retrieved easily enough and she covers her mouth politely while she chews, eyes crinkled brightly over her fingers.

He grins.

Sap is practically his middle name.

"Good?"

"I suppose."

She nods, smiling back at him.

"Same as last time. With, um -" she waves the hand formally in front of her mouth. "Apples?"

He nods in confirmation.

"Apple pie just so happens to be my favourite sort. Mum makes some of the best tasting apple pie I've ever had."

He takes a forkful for himself.