milliways_bar | (no subject)

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So first the gates of Hell open.

Then the Weekly World News shuts down.

Then it turns out the Winchester brothers, Señor Muttonhead and Muttonhead Junior, are the ones responsible for bullet point A up there?

Man, this is the worst fall ever.

Sulking, he scoops up a bite of waffle -- okay, more like a tiny island of cooked dough in an Atlantic-sized sea of maple syrup -- and eyes Milliways at large. Maybe he should tie a couple of metaphorical shoelaces together or something. Pranks always make him feel better.

(Hey, don't judge. He's a trickster. He's allowed!)

[OOC: as per usual, slowtimes are highly likely, but! Post is open until it scrolls.]

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Pretty soon he's going to have to start using a spoon, from the looks of it.

For now, though? The fork's working just fine.

He swishes a tiny fragment of waffle through the puddles of syrup, pops it into his mouth, and closes his eyes in pure bliss. Yeah, it's not as good as a well-timed prank, but it runs a pretty close second.

Elle dimly thinks this is an inefficient way of eating the syrup.

But it's not likely she's exactly known for consuming food efficiently.

"Bar'll probably give you bigger waffles," she points out.

(But it can't be said she sounds like she has a very strong opinion on this.)

With mock horror: "And dilute my syrup? Naaaaah."

(Somebody's gotta have a strong opinion on the subject around here.)

He points to the plate. "This? This is the perfect breakfast right here." Beat. "Or dinner. Maybe lunch too."

It's a lot of syrup.

But as this doesn't bother her, what she ends up actually saying is, "You're not getting a lot of it like that."

"Syrup," he says, weighing the word with a gravitas usually only reserved for cathedrals, "is meant to be savored. Little bit at a time. Lasts a nice long while that way."

"... do they not have syrup where you're from?"

Of all the things that perplex her about other people, attachment to liquid sugar doesn't tend to be one of them.

"No, they do, they do! Thankfully. Ugh, I don't even wanna think about what it'd be like if they didn't."

What a depressing place his Earth would be without maple syrup. Almost as depressing as an Earth without the Weekly World News.

Wait.

"You could always come here," she answers, sounding a little distracted as she tries to come up with some logic in his answers.

(She fails.)

(Some people would consider that kind of thing a grand success.

He's totally one of them.)

"And come here I do!" he says, as if they've finally reached the same conclusion after long hours of debate. "You ever noticed how everything just tastes better when you're on vacation?"

"I don't go on vacation very much."

The pause is after resting with an all out 'No.' But she can't help feeling that it could, and she just didn't notice.

He sucks in a wincing breath between his teeth.

"That," he informs her, "is a tragedy. What, work doesn't give you time off?"

Or maybe she's just one of those people who likes working all the time. Weirdos.

"It didn't," she agrees, using the past tense without thinking as she wonders if sushi with X and Bela counts.

It had tasted about the same as working-sushi.

Ah-hah. He pounces on the past tense like a cat on a mouse.

"But...now it sounds like working for the man every night and day isn't on your plate anymore?"

Perfect time to go vacationing!

Her vague understanding of 'the man' keeps her from becoming completely perplexed by this.

But it only helps her enough to try -

"Now I just don't have a boss."

"Are you on vacation?"

Somehow, the Bar has gotten to the point in her mind of seeming a little mundane for a vacation.

Bright, completely unperturbed, "Every day of my life."

Not like anybody's paying or expecting him to shell out the special on Just Desserts. That's half the fun.

"But this here, this in particular?" He taps a (more gentle than not) finger against Bar. "Just enough out of the ordinary to be like a week in the Bahamas."

"The Bahamas are warmer."

Given the number of people like her in the Caribbean in her world, she won't dispute the out of the ordinary part.

"... is it a vacation if you do it all the time?"

She's unfamiliar enough with it that she asks this instead of, Then how does anything taste better?

"Absolutely," he affirms. "Why wouldn't it be?"

He's genuinely curious! Really!

Well, since she has no choice -

"How would anything taste better?"

"Better," and he taps his fork first on one section of his plate, then another, "than before I started the vacation. Believe it or not -- "

His voice has shifted to sound like he's delivering a late-night infomercial.

"I, too, used to be slogged down in the workaday drudgery of the working man."

Elle decides with a little more certainty that most things in her world are as good or as crappy as they were when she worked for the Company.

"But you... quit?" she ventures.

Edited 2010-06-07 03:41 (UTC)

"I did!" Beaming. "You should give it a try. I highly recommend it."

And we're pausing for more syrup-and-waffles. Om nom nom.

"And now you just... come here and eat syrup?"

It's dimly how she imagined the concept of 'retirement.' But she never thought she'd have to worry about that.

"Nah, sometimes I shake it up a little. Get cake or pie instead. The pie here? Is equally excellent. Have you ever tried it?"

"Yeah."

It's not that it's nothing to write home about, but -

"I'd still get bored."

A suspicious squint.

...Possibly a kind of pitying squint, too, just a teensy bit around the edges. Some people have no appreciation for the finer things in life. Sigh.

"And...what do you do for fun?"

Anything? Bueller?