milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Cal is not impressed by any of this.

There is an eyepatch on the seat of the chair next to him, and the fabric of his blousy white shirt bears evidence of much exasperated plucking.

Someone wanna tell him to lighten up?

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Cal looks at her appreciatively.

"Your outfit is better than mine," he answers.

"I would have preferred a pretty frock coat."

"I would have preferred a shirt that isn't quite so gay," Cal answers. "Our preferences don't seem to matter right now."

He's not even dealing with the pants right now.

"True."

And then she claims the seat next to him, because she's really, really not used to walking around in heels.

"So you don't know what's going on either, huh?" Cal asks, sipping his coffee. At least the Bar didn't try anything cute there.

Though there were also some strips of jerky accompanying it. Which Cal stared at until they turned into pancakes. Those he ate.

"I was going to ask you."

"I asked the Bar."

Saying "What the fuck?" counts as asking, right?

Cal slides a napkin toward Esfir. "I got this."

The napkin says, Arrrrr.

She raises her eyebrows.

"Yeah, pretty much," Cal says. "Too bad. We definitely can't go running dressed like this."

Cal is obviously crushed by this. Except for the crushed part.

"You never heard of taking off shoes?"

"The shoes aren't the problem."

They're kind of comfortable, actually - solid, sturdy boots that are entirely unlike what he's used to wearing. They also beat the crap out of some of the boots he's seen on other patrons.

"Speak for yourself."

She eyes her stiletto heels with a wince.

"They look good on you," Cal says. He means every word.

"I admit that being over a meter and a half tall is nice. But it's still rather hard to walk."

"I guess you just have to get used to them," Cal says, with the shrug of a man secure in the knowledge that this has never been and will never be his problem.

"So sympathetic."

"Fuck sympathy. I'm wearing leather pants."

Yes, that is a scowl on Cal's face.

"I...don't see why this is a problem?"

"Only jerks wear leather pants. They're even gayer than the shirt." These two sentiments are not, in fact, meant to be related, though it would be understandable if someone thought otherwise.

"But it'd protect you from wind-chill."

Cal winces. "Yeah, but it would chafe."

"That's why they are lined."

The pilot is really, really not being at all sympathetic here.

"Hey, how do you know anything about my pants?" Cal inquires, so very innocently.

"I don't!"

Momentary mental flail.

"I just assumed. Um."

Good thing for Esfir that Cal doesn't know that "pants" is the British term for underwear, huh?

Cal grins, then relents.

"Yeah, they are. But it's not really - running material."