milliways_bar | (no subject)

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William hasn't found any more doors to Milliways for about a week and he hasn't quite been looking, it was too confusing with good food, nice people and then Wade.

This morning he's only thinking up about saddling up Les and checking the fences now that Mark's off to school. The little healing vial is tucked away in his hiding place alongside the drawing of his Pa that Wade did since he's not sure what to do with it.

When the door to the tack room opens onto the Bar, he stares at it for a while before walking up to the counter and asking for some coffee. He's not quite sure how he feels about being here, but he's here now.

Tiny tag who needs to wake up: William Evans

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Urquhart says something to the bar in a low voice, and gets a stack of books.

They're all from the late 1860, and consist of a 'Short History of the World', a book about natural history, a Spanish primer, an anthology of translated Greek and Roman classic, as well as three popular novels of the time.

"Books," he says, pushing it over to William.

He stares at the pile, carefully looking each one over,

"I can't afford these, don't want get to owing anyone again."

"You need an education, young man," Urquhart says. "They're a gift."

Long pause.

"I was the younger son, and went away to study in Paris. I think you ought to have some chance to do something with that mind of yours. Perhaps Milliways is that chance."

It doesn't seem like enough, these are good books and no one gives away things like this easily.

He traces the design on the cover of the natural history,

"Hell of a gift to someone you don't know and just met."

"Not to me," Urquhart says. "Seven books are not that much. And I'm quite wealthy. There's good money in killing archbishops and the like."

At least an archbishop won't have a wife and kids.

"I just don't know. I'm William Evans,"

His hand hasn't moved from the book, its just it feels like he should owe this man something and that scares him.

"I'm Urquhart," Urquhart says.

"I wouldn't owe you anything?"

"No," Urquhart says. "Nothing. These are just seven books. Not a king's ransom."

"I know, just awful nice of you."

"Nice doesn't enter into it," Urquhart says. "I just see a good mind going to waste among the cows, and I can't allow that."

"Sound more like a teacher than a hired killer."

"That is my work," Urquhart says, "not my passion! I just happen to be good at it. My passion is for learning and discussion, books and knowledge, in addition to good food and drink, and lovely women to serve it to."

"Oh, that sot of makes more sense,"

Not a lot more to William but some more.

"You're not all about cattle, either, aren't you?" Urquhart says. "I saw how you touched that book."

"Its what keeps us fed, but told you I like reading. Can't afford more than dime novels though.

"From here, you can," Urquhart says. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen,"

He hasn't been for very long, but he is now.

"And how old do you have to be to come of age?" Urquhart asks.

"Don't know, round my age maybe a little older. Why?"

"There is a fund for the under-age patrons of the bar," Urquhart says. "It automatically pays your tab. You can probably afford books here."

"Oh, that's nice of them."

"You can get some sort of an education here, at least," Urquhart says.

He'll see to it. Definitely.

"Wouldn't mind doing that, could be useful. With time stopping, I wouldn't have to worry about falling behind on the stuff that needs to get done,"

He smiles, its not a huge smile but its something as he looks down at the books again.

"And there are people here who can show and tell you things," Urquhart adds.