milliways_bar | (no subject)

Current Mood: mischievous

Entry tags:

ein,
guardian bob

(no subject)

There's a shiny blue-and-chrome two-slot toaster sitting on the Bar.

Where did that come from?

A Welsh Corgi leaps up onto one of the barstools, clambers up onto the Bar itself, and approaches the toaster, nose twitching as he sniffs.

Sniff sniff, sniff sniff...

The Corgi's ears perk up. It rapidly backpedals about a foot from the toaster and starts barking excitedly at the appliance.

"Hey, buddy, what's your problem?" says the toaster in a slightly tinny voice.

Ein briefly stops barking to growl at the toaster. Nobody likes a sarcastic appliance with no scent.

"What d'you think I'm gonna do, spit crumbs at you?"

Ein replies with an indignant whuff noise.

The toaster may have everyone else fooled, but not Ein. He was not born yesterday. A kitchen appliance with no scent and at least rudimentary intelligence must be up to no good.

The toaster says nothing, but its silence is somehow smug.

Ein steps up to the toaster, puts his nose against it, and shoves. The toaster falls over on its side.

"Arf," says Ein, stepping backward and sitting down to survey his handiwork. Or nosiwork.

Take that, nefarious talking toaster!

The toaster rapidly expands into a full-sized humanoid male with blue skin and silver armor. "Hey, what's the big idea?!"

Oh. Wow. That's never happened before.

Ein looks up at the (for lack of a better word) man, twitching his ears and blinking his brown eyes. Obviously confused, he emits a quiet, questioning "Baroo?"

"It's okay, I don't bite." He scoots down onto the nearest barstool and turns to offer his hand to the little dog. (This will probably be less than reassuring, since he still doesn't have a scent.)

Ein sniffs cautiously. Still no scent. But at least he's dealing with a talking sort-of-human-thing now, instead of a toaster. He's also too confused - for the moment - to start barking again.

After a second or two, Bob risks turning his hand over and giving the dog a quick scratch behind the ears.

It wouldn't have been a good idea to try that with an ordinary dog, but Ein is a canine of exceptional intellect, and therefore willing to give the strange blue man the benefit of the doubt.

And, anyway, Ein likes having his ears scratched. His tail thumps happily against the Bar's surface a couple of times.

Bob beams. "See? Everything's fine..."

Upon further scratching, he locates the dog's collar, and squints at the tag. "So you're 'Ein,' eh? Funny name for a dog."

"Arf!" Ein responds with mild annoyance. It's not like he picked the name for himself.

Bob holds up both hands in surrender posture. "I'm just sayin'..."

Ein whines apologetically. Although, as he always tells himself, things could be worse. At least he's not named Rover or Spot or something like that.

"Hey, c'mon, it's not so bad," says Bob, reaching out to scratch at Ein's ears again. "It's just... different, that's all."

"Wan!" Ein agrees. ('Wan,' by the way, is Japanese for 'bark!') The Corgi sits up straigher, puffing out his chest to display his name tag.

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