milliways_bar | Happy Hour!

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Happy Hour!

There are many things Ned has yet to check off his proverbial Things To Do Before I Die list, and bartending at any sort of bar is one of them.

(But why not add a couple of extra points for uniqueness? Throw in a bar at the end of the universe, too.)

The Happy Hour specials are written in very precise, neat handwriting and reflect his day-job. It's hard to stray too far away from pie-making, it seems.

Tonight's Specials

Apple Pie in a Glass
American Pie
Mud Pie

He quickly gives the bartop a wipe-down, then turns to the bar space at large.

"Okay. What'll it be?"

[ooc: And the brains have officially decided they've had enough. Slowtimes for all, please! And thanks for tagging!]

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"You could say that," Ned allows. "Back home, I make pies pretty regularly."

Try every day.

"- I actually own a restaurant."

He adds the Blue Curacao and gently slides the drink towards Puck.

PASSED.

Puck looks at Ned in what can only be called incandescent delight. Even the drink is only an afterthought. (An afterthought he picks up, sniffs, and sips with good cheer.)

"Do you really?"

He smiles.

Delight in pie makes him happy.

"I do," he reaffirms. "I've been baking pies for a good deal of my life."

"I expect you are marvelous at it."

Well, he has no idea. But Puck usually chooses to make assumptions that fit in with his sense of personal narrative convenience.

He looks rather bashful in response to the compliment.

"I'm not too bad, no, if my customers have anything to say about it," he says humbly. "I'm hoping I'll be able to host Pi Day again in the new year."

Puck takes a swallow of his American Pie drink, and feels that really, it's no proper pie at all-- even making allowances for its liquid form.

"... Pie day?" he repeats.

WHAT.

Ned's smile appears again as he nods.

"March 14: 3-14. It's just an excuse to eat and celebrate the greatness of pie," he explains cheerfully. "Last year, I made a whole lot of pie in honour of it."

Puck's expression is torn between :D and D:

"... So I must needs wait until the Ides of March?"

"If you want a slice of pie?"

He shakes his head.

"No, not at all. I ... could always bring you some next time I'm here," he offers.

He's done it before, after all.

He beams.

Incandescently.

"Oh, that is terribly kind of you. I should be utterly in your debt."

He waves a hand.

"That's all right," he says kindly. "I'm always happy to spread the love of pie around."

"I insist," Puck insists.

A smile.

"Else I should feel I was taking advantage."

It takes him a moment, remembering that there so many different sorts of people and different cultures, before he finally nods.

"Well, okay. If you insist. Thank you."

He smiles.

"Now, is there a flavour you like in particular?"

Puck beams!

And contemplatively drains the rest of his glass.

"I am hardly particular," he says brightly. "I am partial to berries, and chocolate--"

And lizards.

"And cream. I suppose I should not half-mind a meat pie, either, though left to my own devices I am rather inclined to sweetness."

"Ah - yeah. I actually don't make meat pies," he admits. "I have a thing against meat."

Which - yes. Makes him a vegetarian. For very particular purposes that involve alive-again dead-again things.

"Berries, though. I could work with berries."

"--Why?" Puck asks, sidetracked.

"Has meat done aught to offend you?"

"I'm a ... vegetarian?" he offers. "Meat hasn't outright offended me, called me names, that sort of thing. I just can't eat it."

Figuratively and literally.

"So, I try not to work with it either."

Puck's mouth drops into an oh of surprise.

"A vegetarian," he repeats, perplexed.

"How peculiar."

"Is it?"

Ned finds nothing peculiar about it!

He's known a few vegetarians in his lifetime.

"I myself have never heard of such a thing," he says, owlish.

"Oh. Well, it's not exactly common, I guess, but some people choose not to eat meat."

Most of those people do it because they believe in protecting animals, and the like. Ned has other reasons.

"They stick to eating fruits and vegetables, and things like that."

"I suppose I do like fruit," Puck allows.

"Fruit is good. It gives you nearly everything you need, nutrition-wise."

He shrugs.

"I'm guessing you're a fan of meat."

Puck laughs.

His teeth are, ah ...

Sharp.

"I am a fan of nearly anything, as it happens. I find preferences so dreadfully tiring."

Eyebrows shoot up.

Sharp, indeed.

"You have a point," he says. "You're fortunate you don't have to avoid certain things, of course. I know it's a choice for some, but for others ... not so much."

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puckishly.livejournal.com - 2009-12-21 21:54 (UTC) - Expand

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