milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Enter a very tired-looking gunslinger.

He's left the Whitman upstairs tonight. He's got a notebook with him instead, and a leaky fountain pen.

Roland sits at the bar, drinks coffee, and idly scratches some things down from time to time.

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"A connection is likely, but not certain." Roland's thinking of his own rose, of course.

"How can you find out more?"

It seems an awfully big coincidence if they're not. And I don't like to trust coincidence

*Meg shrugs.* I've asked people to watch him and tell me what they see - the people who are looking after him. 'cause, you know, it's in his best interests too, to get - whatever-it-is out of his head.

Roland nods. "But there's got to be a way you can use it against him. Maybe if you knew precisely why he wants her."

He drinks more coffee.

He said the friend - the Shadow person - is sick, and he wants to use her to help.

*Meg looks worriedly down at her own coffee.*

Which may be true, for all I know, but still doesn't make sense.

"Can she help with things like that?"

I never heard anything about her being able to.

I mean, she can't die herself, but I've never seen her heal anyone else -

"She keeps her dead brother in her chest," muses Roland. "She keeps her dead brother in her chest, and the one who has possession of her is in love with one who is dead, and yet somehow is here, if only in his mind. And roses."

Roland looks down at the bartop for a moment. His eyes are narrowed. "There are several possibilities that I can see."

*Meg looks at him.*

Well, your old and slow head's working better than mine - care to share?

"The most immediately obvious one is that he intends to use her as a vessel for this Shadow of his -- she already keeps one within her; perhaps he figures that he can bind this Shadow in her and thus he will be restored to him, in a way."

*Meg takes a breath.*

I - dunno if that'd do him much good. I've never seen her brother do anything that would indicate he isn't really dead, it's not like it lets him come out and talk to people -

*She stops, suddenly remembering something.*

Roland watches her.

*Meg is silent a moment longer.

And then says, almost reluctantly:*

Well.

He's not entirely inactive, Anthy's dead brother person.

"Does your enemy know this?"

*Meg thinks back, and notes with some relief:* Unless he saw the last duel - not the last one, the last one, from ages ago when I duelled Todd - then no. I don't think he could.

"Any way you can use that to your advantage?"

Maybe.

*Meg hesitates.* That'd depend on him thinking logically, though. Which he, you know, doesn't.

Roland's quiet for a moment.

"If I were you, I'd make a list of what your enemy knows, and what he doesn't need to find out, and what he doesn't want you to find out."

That . . . sounds like a very good idea.

And one I can actually follow.

*Meg grins ruefully.* See, I knew there was a reason I always carried a few pens on me.

"Just make sure he doesn't find the list."

More coffee.

Not unless, *Meg says dryly,* he's planning to rummage about in my tutu, while I'm wearing it, which somehow I don't intend to let him do.

"I should certainly hope not." Roland sounds faintly sententious.

*Meg can't restrain a giggle at that.*

Don't worry, Roland, I'm generally pretty capable of protecting my, er, personal space.

"Who said I was worried?"

Coffee is good at this point.

*Meg grins.*

You've overused that phrase.

"Meaning?"