Happy Hour

[wizard_howell]

It's a tired and subdued wizard who straggles into the bar tonight, rests his head on Bar's surface, and is presented with the option to tend. Never one to resist a challenge, regardless of how weary he might be, he nods resolutely. A wave of his hand later, the specials are up on the board.

Baby Aspirin
Morgan's Mountain
Witch's Brew #2 (#1 is busy)

At the very bottom, in tiny golden letters:

Bydd y dyn hwn yn talu am bopeth!*

It's only money, right?




*Drinks are on Howl's tab tonight.


ETA: and we're closed to new threads. Thank you, everyone.



Tag: Alba DeTamble

Comments

[morethanprops]

"Is that language from Lancre?"

It looks vaguely familiar, that's not one of the one's Moist knows yet. Today he's looking relaxed in a comfortable old sweater and corduroy pants since he's still waiting on Urquhart.

[wizard_howell]

A slow smile breaks over Howl's face.

"We say it's from God's country, although that's certainly up for dispute. It's Welsh, my friend. The most beautiful and lyrical language in the known worlds."

Despite his obvious lack of sleep, he's cheerful enough. "What can I get you?" His fervent hope for tonight is that no one asks for anything in a bottle. Granting wishes got old very quickly.

[morethanprops]

"Which god? I could do with a MacAbres', thank you,"

It still looks like it should be from Lancre but Moist isn't going to argue the point.

[wizard_howell]

Eyebrow raised, he holds out his hand for one of the rats ("Fetch the MacAbres', diolch yn fawr") before leaning forward on both elbows. "That's a grand question, and one people have been debating for centuries. I have no idea."

He's not a religious man himself, despite his upbringing. The only god he worships is... well, he doesn't. The glass is at the ready when the rat returns, pushing a bottle -- bottles! heaven forbid! across the bar with its nose. With a flourish, he pours the precise amount and slides it to his customer.

"Neat, I take it." One rarely wants to sully a good whiskey with ice.

[morethanprops]

Moist watches the whole production with a smirk,

"Yes, thank you. I tend to not say, so far its kept the lightning away."

[wizard_howell]

Well, he could certainly cause a little lightning right now if he so desired, but he's appreciating the relative peace and quiet of this place at the moment. It's a nice change from home, although he simply wouldn't trade that for anything. Still, the statement makes him smirk.

"A wise way to hedge one's bets, friend."

[morethanprops]

"I've found trouble is unpleasant enough to want to avoid it. Though I'm curious, why didn't you find the bottle yourself?"

[wizard_howell]

"The bottle and I," he says without the least hint of remorse, "are on holiday from one another. Put it this way: I spent a little time in one, and I'm loathe to get too close to another one lest it happen again."

Of course, he means this literally but interpretation is such an individual matter.

[morethanprops]

"Inside a bottle? Did someone curse you?"

Moist is from the Disc, he always imagines the worst in creative forms.

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

Rubbing her eyes, she blinks at the specials board.

(She doesn't even know the language written on the bottom of the board.)

"Those Poetic Eddas have me seeing double," she mutters as she sidles up to the bar, setting her empty coffee cup down on the counter. "May I have one-eighth of Morgan's Mountain and the rest filled with black coffee. . .?"

[wizard_howell]

"Poetic Eddas? Somebody's studying epic Norse works, I see." (He does hold a doctorate. It might be in Spells and Charms, but he's fairly well-educated as a rule.)

He starts up her special request drink the usual way but then, as if he's suddenly gripped by an idea far more useful (he is), conjures it with a wave of his hand. That will certainly make things go more quickly. "One-eighth Morgan's Mountain -- he'll like that -- and seven-eighths black coffee. Let me know how it is."

It's certainly nothing he would drink, but to each her own, he's always said, unless it infringes on his territory in which case it's to each his own.

"Here you go."

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

"Yes. Brushing up after meeting epic Norse goddesses," she adds with a somewhat bleary (and still genuine) smile in return.

Although, one will have to overlook the way that she drops suddenly into a stool to watch the conjuring up of her drink (magic - real magic - is still a novelty for her) with a slightly slack jaw and widened eyes.

The time to ask the obvious is now:

"Wizard?" A pause, taking a sip. The idea of the alcohol is present, but not overtly strong in her coffee. It's perfection. "Thank you very much."

[wizard_howell]

"Ah, I was wondering if you'd run across one here. It's entirely plausible."

His own eyes sparkle at her obvious interest in his drink-making technique.

"You're entirely welcome. And yes, you're right in one. Howl Pendragon at your service. Whatever you do, don't tell my wife I'm here. She'll likely have my head for it." His smile is utterly brilliant at that one.

Of course, he wouldn't have left unless everyone at home was sleeping. The single most important luxury of this place is that when he gets back home, it will still be the precise moment at which he left. Whatever he does in the meantime simply can't be argued as actually leaving.

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

"Brilliant. You're the third true magic-user I've met here."

Another sip.

"It was about last week when I took a very educational field trip with Skaði. I cam back with ideas. Which, as one knows, are very dangerous things to have percolating in the mind. Oh, Alba DeTamble. It's nice to meet you, and I promise that I won't say a word."

She grins.

"I had to send my younger selves away before any of them wondered what I was up to--" she shakes her head "--because I can't ruin the timneline like that."

[wizard_howell]

Honestly, he has very little idea what she's talking about but he's running on so little sleep himself that he simply nods in acknowledgment. Some sort of time-traveler, if she's talking about ruining a timeline, he supposes, and of all the troubles he's had, being in two places at once has never been one of them.

No, he's more than enough trouble only being in one place at a time.

"Hello, Alba DeTamble. Personally, I'm all in favor of ideas. The more the merrier, and the more convoluted, the better. Some of my favorite trouble in life has come from one idea too many. I highly recommend them."

He will never tell anybody to stop thinking creatively. It would be the death of them all, and he has absolutely no intention of dying. He promised Sophie he wouldn't, right after she threatened to kill him.

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

She laughs quietly, "Trust me. It's all just such a tumble in my brain right now I don't even think it can get any more complicated than it is right now. I don't think it's going to stop, either."

Briefly, wondering herself if she told him that she was a time-traveler.

It doesn't matter at this point, she's going to continue on the assumption that she has -- even if she can't recall.

[wizard_howell]

His gesture to Milliways at large is broad and encompassing. "My dear girl, nothing can get any more complicated than this."

It defies reason, and any problems or specific worries he might have from home pale in the face of the universe ending and being reborn, or at least that's his opinion. Everything else straightens itself out in the laundry.

That isn't to say that there aren't discrete and unique differences between them all. "Sometimes, however, it pays to let the words and thoughts out. Sometimes, someone new can have a rather untested perspective on one's complications. I'm game, if you want to try me."

At the very least, the world's best barmen listen. That in itself can be a wonderful thing.

[gorgonfondness]

Mia sees that look.

Mia knows that look.

And she sits at the bar and smiles at Howl, her own baby at home with his father until she gets there after this unexpected after-work visit.

[wizard_howell]

"Mia." The grin on his face is weary but heartfelt. "And how are we tonight?"

There might be dark circles under his eyes, but he wears them with the utmost pride. "And what can I get for the loveliest of lovely ladies?"

[gorgonfondness]

"What you can get is a coffee or a nap for yourself. You'll appreciate either one more than you'll ever know."

She's pretty sure she's got the same circles or close enough.

"I just got back from work and found myself in here on my way to my quarters. Once here, I figured a break wouldn't hurt, particularly now that Cepheus is cutting teeth."

She's thrilled. Really.

"I'll have a tea while you tell me everything."

[wizard_howell]

"I'll have a tea with you, since a nap is out of the question at the moment." As if it's necessary, he gestures to Bar. It's no secret that for the moment, he's in charge. Setting out two teacups, he taps a nearby teapot impatiently and waits for it to whistle.

"I hope you're in the mood for Earl Grey. To make a long story short, we've got a son. His name is Morgan. He's got Sophie's lungs and good looks and my eyes and I'm certain he's got both our magic."

Proud as proud can be, he pours out two cups of tea and slides one across Bar's surface to Mia. "Cream? Sugar? Lemon? Something else?"

[gorgonfondness]

"Earl Grey happens to be one of my favorites. And you'll have to tell me the rest of the story sometime but I'll take the short version for now."

She smiles wide at the news she has partly guessed at.

"Morgan," she says, testing it. "But I'm sure he'll end up being a charmer like his dad. And I'm eager to see him. I'm tempted to let you take my camera so that you can take a picture of him but I fear I wouldn't get it back."

She breathes in some of the steam from her cup of tea.

"A little of the cream and sugar would be wonderful in this.

[wizard_howell]

With a wave of his hand, a filled creamer appears, along with a bowl of sugar cubes and a small set of tongs.

"Oh, we'll bring him round to meet everybody. As soon as he's a little more settled."

Of course, that might never happen; he does seem to be at least as strong-willed as Sophie. Whether he inherits the ability to slither out of things as well as his father remains to be seen.

"And you? How's the family?" Never let it be said he's not polite to his friends, even when exhausted.

[gorgonfondness]

Mia doctors her tea up the way she likes and takes a restoring sip. Ahhh, lovely.

"So whenever he likes to be around, right? Perhaps I'll think to bring my lute when that happens and I can play for him and my Cepheus at the same time."

Though who knows how that would work out with Cepheus's 'singing' back to the lute.

"Draco and I have been learning about and Mother has been reacquainting herself with the joys of teething. With Cepheus over half a year old already, hard as that is for me to believe, I've been easing back into teaching at the Magic Guild. I taught a class today and have another to teach Thursday."

[wizard_howell]

"Well done, Professor! And has it really been six months already?" It's hard to imagine. He knows how quickly time seemed to pass when his little niece Mari was an infant, but he's certain it will simply fly by with Morgan.

At least he's stopped acting like a kitten... for the most part. A vague wave of guilt washes over him, but he shakes it off. Who wouldn't want to be able to run and play?

That's neither here nor there, however. "We've not got to teething quite yet, thankfully. There's already no sleep in our house. I can't imagine getting less."