milliways_bar | (no subject)

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cato

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Cleopatra lounges on the couch, with a glass of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers.

She seems to be reading over a stack of ancient paperwork, and sighing. It seems that even way back when, there's a lot of paperwork in ruling a country.

Though, the new stack she picks up, she smiles. Letters. Personal letters.

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The acknowledgment is returned with a smile, but he does not interrupt, not yet at least. He has the newspaper and the brandy to keep him busy before seeking discourse.

He may hear her very quietly reading over the words of a letter from Antony. He does have a way with words, and she does love him, in her way.

Marlowe will not listen in; instead, he will wait until she is done to speak up. "Good news, I presume?"

She nods, smiling. "Letters from my Antony... he writes, even though he is not that far away."

She likes that.

"But the rest of this," she gestures to the rest of the piles, "is simply work."

"It shows he cares." Marlowe nods, taking a sip and glancing at the rest of the papers.

He is not fond of paperwork either.

That, and he likes the style she can afford to keep him in. She has no disillusions about their relationship, which is why she has to do what she does for him.

She simply nods as the start of her response. "Yes, it does show that. It shows many things."

She sets it down, and picks up another stack of papyrus.

"It is what I deserve, for ruling a great kingdom. Lots of work to do."

"I have a simpler and smaller job myself, and have plenty of work to do with it." He sips the brandy. "Can not even imagine the amount of worry, paperwork and time needed to run a kingdom."

She chuckles a little, "I have time here I wouldn't have otherwise. It makes for a good place to do work that I would never get done back in Egypt."

"So far I have used this place as leisure only; I do not find a door here often enough to do work." Rare times he is near his office or apartment when Milliways shows up.

"I do not look for a door. I bend it to my will, and open one."

Such it is, to be a queen.

She glances at one of the pages and frowns, sighing.

"This...ugh. Too much money..."

"I am not so fortunate: have to wait until a door shows up."

Marlowe will not ask what a queen considers too much money, he is sure it must be some astronomical amount.

It's for a new monument. She'll get it cheaper.

In fact she makes a note on it in Greek and sets it aside.

"You must be firmer with what you want," she says, quietly, not looking at him, but examining a cracker.

And he just nods, watching the queen while sipping his brandy.

She is... interesting.

She doesn't really get crackers.

What's the point of eating stale, unlevened bread?

She hesitantly takes a bite and chews. Not too bad, but she'd prefer real bread next time.

She'll have to remember to be more specific.

Marlowe prefers his bread toasted and crunchy, with eggs and bacon.

And coffee, of course. "There was a time things like that were for sailors, or other people in long trips."

"Then someone decided to make them thinner and tastier and sell to everybody."

She finishes the cracker and moves to just the cheese.

"I don't know about that," she says quietly, "I have taken long trips on a boat....and did not eat anything so...strange. We had all the things I am normally accustomed to."

Which is, of course, extravagant.

"You are a queen." His tone is clear, who would serve a queen regular sailor fare?

Unless they were starving, of course.

"The Queen," she corrects with a grin. "It's an easy mistake to make."

She eats another cube of cheese.

"My apologies." He does even manage to not sound amused.

But also does not sound impressed. "Anyway, who would serve you sailor hard-tack meals?" And expect to live to see the next day, of course.

He should be.

"I would not expect them to," she responds. "Especially after I have chosen a menu."

That'd be stupid of them to no serve her what she wants.

Unfortunately Marlowe has a wide, general dislike for 'royalty' and people who act like royalty; he gives her a slow nod, tasting his brandy again.

Insert here you favorite crude metaphor about how people are just people in the end.

Well, when you've done everything to make your country the best...

You expect the best.

He could have words about that view, but it is not there and now, and more, it is none of his business.

So... "Philip Marlowe. All around common guy."

"Queen Cleopatra VII Philopator, Living Isis, Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt...and a highly, hopefully, uncommon woman."

She takes another bite of cheese, then a sip of wine.

"Pleasure to meet you." His tone is polite and conventional.

This man is not much thrilled, but he will keep to the limits of good manners.