milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Pam was feeling pretty bored. Not anymore.

Bar's seen fit to provide her with a canvas and a set of watercolors, so she's sitting in the corner, doing the best she can to capture her surroundings with the paint she's been given, occasionally pausing to take a sip of the drink resting beside her.

Any interruption would be welcomed, of course.

tiny tag: pam beesly

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"Yew paintin' suthin'?" asks a . . . man sitting nearby.

"Yeah." Pam scoots over a little so he can look on if he wants. "Or trying to, anyway."

"Neat!" Wilbur grins. "I'm Wilbur Whateley, by the way."

"I'm Pam," she says, holding out a smudged hand, and then realizes it's smudged and -- look, there's a rag, magically appearing from Bar.

So she wipes it clean and holds it out again. "Let's try that again."

"Ayuh, sure." He grins.

A tentacle attempts to join his hand in shaking hers, but he swats at it and it retreats.

Oh, tentacles. Those are interesting. Not what she's used to, obviously, but she's seen much worse from Dwight.

So she turns half her attention to her canvas, still looking up politely every now and then. And by up, she means up. He's pretty tall.

"Sew, how long yew bin comin' here?"

"Couple months," Pam answers, dipping her brush in some water to clean it off before starting on another color in her scene.

It's a few minutes before a trenchcoat starts to take shape.

"I bin here fer about a month. Bound, but thet's awlright--this place es fun."

"Really?" She's heard brief mentions of it, but never talked to someone who is. "What's it like being here all the time?"

Occasionally, she looks over to him, in order to get the details right in her painting.

"I suppose et's like bein' here et awll, jest more sew."

He grins. "I gawt my own room upstairs. Yew kin't miss et--et's the 'un wit the Escher poster an' the sign thet says 'Kip Out Ef Yew Value Yer Sanity' awn the door."

"True." Pam suddenly feels very silly about it all and blushes a little, but another sip of her drink should take the edge right off.

"I've never stayed in a room here. Are they nice?"

"I like mine wal enough.

"But et would probably give most people a mental breakdown."

"To each his own, I guess."

She smiles, and when she pulls back from the canvas to reveal that Wilbur himself is illustrated in the painting.

"I like thet!" Wilbur grins. "Yer good."

"Thanks!" Pam smiles. "I'm a little out-of-practice, though. I haven't actually painted anything in a while, but it's fun."

"Et looks fun.

"I'm more o' the book type, though."

"Nothing wrong with that," Pam answers. "There are some days where I definitely like to curl up with a good book."

". . . yew've never read the Necromnicon, have yew?"

"Can't say that I have," Pam says, putting a few finishing touches on the painting before signing her name in the lower right-hand corner.

She pauses before attempting to lift the canvas and hand it over to Wilbur. "I want you to have it. Put it up in your room or something."

"Thank yew." He takes it.

He chuckles. "Wal, I like ter read thet--an' thin's like et. An' et's a Black book o' Thin's Thet Mankind Es Nawt Meant Ter Know. Thar's plenty wrong wit readin' some books, trust me."

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