milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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]

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He smiles. "Your wish is my command."

Well, Bar's, anyway, so a glass of milk appears.

A milk moustaches is quickly aquired.

Along with a slightly milky hat feather. It is difficult, working around the feather!

Sam hides a smile with his own drink.

And the eyepatch does not help so much. ._.

(Which is to say, the moustache gets bigger.)

Sam makes a valiant effort not to giggle, and busies himself with petting Shreddie by way of distraction. The kitten, delighted to be fussed, reaches new decibels of purring in response.

There is thoughtful headtilting at Shreddie.

And then, "Would he like some?"

She remembers being a cat, see.

"I expect so. He appreciates that kind of thing."

And indeed, the kitten looks up at her hopefully.

"But if he has too much, he'll get fat."

She considers her glass, which is almost empty. It could be poured into a more kitten-friendly container!

"Would this be too much?"

Sam grins. "I think his figure will survive that much."

Bar is endlessly helpful; a small dish appears on the spot.

And lo, there is pouring and setting before Shreddie.

That is, if it is acceptable to his Kittenness.

It is undoubtedly successful, as can be seen from the fact that Shreddie is quickly acquiring a milky moustache as big as Pomona's own.

Sam strokes the kitten's back with one finger.

"You really like cats, Pomona, don't you?"

"They are very-"

"-lovely."

It is not quite the word, perhaps, but it will do?

"I wouldn't have thought a tree would be so keen. All those claws using tree trunks to mark territory, that sort of thing."

She wrinkles her nose.

"It is how they are."

"I know. But noisy and full of unquestioning loyalty is how dogs are, and it doesn't make me like them better."

He doesn't dislike dogs, exactly - ones that attempt to kill Shreddie and/or Pomona aside - but he doesn't like them, either.

They remind him too much of people he'd rather forget.

And lo, there is petting of Shreddie.

And blowing her hat feather out of the way again.

"They are-"

A helpless little shrug to indicate that dogs are just less likeable.

Sam smiles.

"Yeah."

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