milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

cato

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

"The pleasure, of course, is mutually shared."

She will also keep to good manners.

The detective smiles a bit, regarding the Queen with renewed interest, pondering she might have some redeeming qualities after all.. "Is it? I never imagined a queen would get much thrilled with meeting a common guy."

"It takes all sorts of individuals to make up the world," she says quietly. "Some that claim to be common...or of the people, are really the most magnificent."

Some of the finest men in Rome are not patricians by birth.

That makes him nod only, for a bit, before speaking up again. "There's not much you can build without the work of the common people."

She grins a little. "The greatest monuments in my lands have been built in that fashion."

"Monuments to the pride of a few, made from the sweat of many." Dryly spoken: Marlowe does not like the idea of hauling thousands upon thousands of stones to build a monument to metaphorical penis envy.

"And the next monument must be larger and more impressive, because the next king or queen must go higher than the previous."

She looks at him completely straightfaced, betraying no emotion.

"You seem to be from the future. From what I've been able to gather, some point in the twentieth century, correct? They've lasted that long and will last a lot longer. That is a testament to the endurance of those that built and had them built. I could think of no better monument to the ingenious of my people."

She takes a bite of cheese and picks up the stack of paperwork again.