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[necessary_child]

Lazy Lucifer, sitting on a barstool with supper and a piratical purring kitten curled cutely on his shoulder.

Okay, quitting the awesomely awful alliteration now, alas.

Anyway. The eyepatch is flipped up, and the pirate's hat is set at a jaunty angle, not least because Shreddie keeps batting at it fascinatedly. Sam is tolerating this for now, even smiling - well, it tickles. And besides, it's kind of fun.

You live here long enough, you get used to Milliways' quirks. Most of them, anyway. Come bother the nautical Lucifer.




[Tiny tag: Pomona, Cal Chandler]

Comments

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

Someone else is sporting a hat and eyepatch, only she is much more confused as to why. It is not one of those things you expect.

But at least everything else was left alone, and she does not have to wear boots again.

At any rate, Sam may perhaps notice a nymph giggling at his fearsome feline friend's antics.

[necessary_child]

Sam turns, at the giggling, and gives the wood nymph a grin when he spots her.

"Hey, Pomona. The bar got you too?"

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

"It is not," she says bravely, "as bad as it was last time."

She can feel the ground, after all, rather than teetering on shoes.

Her hat has a feather. At some point, it flipped over her face, and she takes a moment to blow it out of the way. "I do not understand why, though."

[necessary_child]

"It's called Talk Like A Pirate Day. It's an odd holiday that the bar seems to like to celebrate."

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

There is a moment of silent contemplation.

"But I am not talking like a pirate."

At least, she does not think so.

[necessary_child]

"Sometimes the bar just dresses you appropriately - hence the silly hats. Sometimes you wind up talking piratey as well."

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

"What is talking," nose wrinkle, "piratey?"

[necessary_child]

"Oh." Sam waves a vague hand.

"Saying 'arrr' and 'matey' a lot, things like that. It's very silly."

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

"'Arrr'," she says, thoughtfully.

It does not feel very piratey.

[necessary_child]

Sam grins at her. "Like I said, all very silly. Want a drink, Pomona?"

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

"Would it have to be piratey?"

[necessary_child]

"Only if you wanted it to be." Shreddie rubs against Sam's cheek, purring, and Sam reaches up to rub between the kitten's ears.

"I wouldn't recommend it, though. Grog is nasty and rum is... well, that's pretty good, but it's pretty strong."

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

"Milk, I think?"

Spending time as a cat is catching.

[isaysimplewords]

Cal has not been in Milliways long enough to get used to it. Or, indeed, to expect much of anything outside the usual routine. You know: get up, shower, come downstairs, get coffee, meet confusing people whose existence he would never have believed in less than a year ago, go upstairs, go to bed.

The sharp-eyed reader will note the lack of eyepatch, loose white shirt, and leather pants in the above list.

Cal is also lacking the eyepatch, but the other items have stayed because he has to wear something. He is convinced he looks ridiculous. He really doesn't. He wouldn't believe it if you told him, though, and so he is sitting at a table looking generally unimpressed at people.

He does look slightly happier when he spots Sam, though. "Hi."

[necessary_child]

"...Hi." Sam looks him up and down. And down again, and then up. And grins.

Amusedly: "I like the new look."

Cal may not appreciate the leather, but Sam does.

[isaysimplewords]

"Very funny," Cal says sourly. This is clearly a massive unfairness. He's been keeping a closer eye on the mirror since Esfir told him, so bluntly, that he looked like shit, and there's been a slight improvement since he started dragging himself out to run with her every morning. There's a little more color in his face, and he doesn't look quite so tired. Turns out that actually expending energy makes it a little bit easier to sleep. He's still not getting eight hours, but the deficit isn't as bad as it has been. And that, in turn, is making it easier to eat.

So, all in all, Cal determined just this morning that he could be upgraded to looking like shit to merely looking like crap, and found this very encouraging.

Finding himself stuck in this excuse for an outfit, looking like a gay pirate? Not so encouraging. At least, in her fucking insanity, the Bar didn't put him in some of the other outfits he's seen around, but that's not much of a consolation.

(Of course she didn't. Bar knows very well precisely how far she can push Cal before he just loses his temper completely and storms back upstairs.)

[necessary_child]

Eyebrow.

"Oh, quit feeling sorry for yourself. There are worse costumes, and that was a perfectly sincere compliment."

Storms are not conducive to pettings: a wise Shreddie leaps neatly off Sam's shoulder and onto the bar, patting off towards a destination unknown.

[isaysimplewords]

"Fine," says Cal, who mostly believes that last point. Mostly. Because obviously he looks stupid, but it is possible that Sam just has questionable taste. "What the hell is going on, anyway?"

[necessary_child]

"Talk Like A Pirate Day. Happens every year, as far as I've been able to tell."

In the bar, 'every year' is relative.

He flicks idly at the feather on his hat. "Some people just get the clothes, some people get the speech as well. Most people old enough get a craving for rum, though, although that may well be just patrons taking advantage of the situation."

[isaysimplewords]

Cal looks baffled for a moment, because he hadn't really expected there to be an actual answer. It is not a helpful answer or anything like that, which just serves to trip him up a bit longer than it might otherwise.

"Oh," he says. Then, "This fucking place."

[necessary_child]

Sigh.

"Lighten up, Cal. As bar-wide celebrations go, this one's kind of fun."

[isaysimplewords]

"Yeah. Good times. Last time I checked, fun was voluntary." Cal takes a long swallow of coffee.

[necessary_child]

"Yeah, well, it could be a lot worse." Sam sips his drink - rum, naturally.

"Enjoy showing off your arse and get over it already."

[isaysimplewords]

Cal slumps in his chair on general principle.

That's about it, really. It's not that there's nothing to say to that. It's that there's too much to say, and he can't even find words for half of it. So he doesn't say anything.

[necessary_child]

Well, Sam's perched on a barstool. Certain features tend to be emphasised in that position. Although it's possible that he is purposely accentuating that right now, likewise on general principle.

(His own trousers aren't leather, but they are a little tighter than usual, tucking into appropriately piratey boots. His shirt is loose and red under a dark, battered overcoat, buttons not quite done up to the top nor quite done up to the bottom, showing a little pale skin at stomach and collarbone.)

"Aw, come on. If you can't handle a slight costume change you'll go nuts on April Fool's."