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There is a not'cat at the bar, discussing with the Bar the fish-shaped cake that had appeared when he had approached her. It is decorated with a colorful candle in the shape of an eight.

"You do know it's been much longer for me, right?" he asks, leaning his elbows on the counter top. "Three times as long, in fact."

The napkin that appears in reply is accompanied by a party-hat. It is even more desperately bright and colorful than the candle.

"And why Earth-years, anyway? Answer me that."

Or.... the bar could just give him a celebratory plate of sashimi to shut him up.

Surprisingly, it works... for now. Come have a piece of cake.

(ooc: Eight years ago today, a snarky, bitter Bright Shiner found his way into Milliways, and I found myself an entire world of friends. There has been TOO MUCH AWESOME to ennumerate adequately, so let me say this: I can't imagine my life without y'all. You are loved.)

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"Eight years old, hm, kiddo?"

Well, Nikola's amused at least.

"Eight years, by the bar's reckoning," he replies with an amused, wry smile, "since I first found my way here. It has been at least a quarter century as my own time is reckoned, from additional time spent in other worlds."

"Funny how that works, isn't it?" Nikola says, dropping a quick kiss to Yrael's cheek before reaching across the not!cat for a bit of that cake.

He assumes he's welcome to.

Of course he is.

"Funnier still that we seem to try and make it mean something," Yrael accepting the kiss with a grin, "in a place where time supposedly does not matter."

"I suppose," Nikola says thoughtfully, taking a quick bite of the cake, "that we must, on some level, see it as an accomplishment."

There should be achievement badges, it's true.

"It merely makes me curious," Yrael says. "If I have been here eight years, which eight years have they been? They correspond to the length of earth-years, but are they meant to correspond to any specific eight years of earth's history, here at the end of the universe?"

"Everything makes you curious, mačkica," Nikola points out, stealing another bit of cake. "I think they should be whichever eight years you choose to celebrate."

"The day nothing makes me curious is a day I do not foresee coming any day soon," he smirks, leaning over to place a kiss on the vampire's cheek. "Whatever year it might be in."

"It's a day I hope does not come at all," Nikola says. He rather likes Yrael's curiosity.

"Likewise. It would, by definition, be a very boring day."

And Yrael doesn't have boring days.

"And we certainly can't have that, mačkica."

Nikola doesn't either, unless they're forced on him.

"We really can't," Yrael agrees.

There may be wine - because Bar is not only sentient but also intelligent. (Though there are also party-hats, because she is mischievous as well.)

"Therefore, we won't."

"I heartily approve of this plan."

He's going to help himself to the wine as well, though he'll leave the party hats alone for now.

Yrael grins, and leans in to kiss the vampire. "There might be all the time in the universe, but how shall we spend this particular un-boring day?"

"I'm sure between the two of us, we can come up with some sort of activity worthy of the occasion." He sneaks an arm around Yrael's waist with a grin.

"If we can't manage it, even with the force of creativity at our disposal, then no one can," Yrael laughs, leaning warmly against Nikola.

Oh, they can manage.

Nikola very much appreciates that warmth.

"That's very true. And what a horrible multiverse it would be if that were the case."

"As a scenario, it's not worth contemplating," Yrael says with a smirk, rejecting that multiverse and substituting his own.

This one.

"Certainly not." He sips his wine contemplatively.

"So did you have any feelings on how you want to mark the occasion, or shall we just take it as it comes?"

"To be honest, I had forgotten to plan for it - time flows by, or doesn't. It goes unmarked by me, beyond the seasons," he replies. "So spontaneity may be the rule of the day."

Though he knows Nikola loves his plans, Yrael's middle name might as well be spontaneity. If he had a last name, of course.

"Spontaneity it is, then," Nikola says with a laugh.

His life at home is ruled by plans currently. He could use a change.

"Ironically enough, that sounds like a plan," Yrael grins, and kisses the vampire soundly.

Nikola was going to respond, but he got a bit distracted, so all he managed was laughing into the kiss.

It isn't a quick kiss. If something is worth doing, it is worth doing thoroughly.

"We should cause some trouble," he murmurs against the vampire's throat, when the kiss is finally broken.

Nikola hums his approval. "What sort of trouble did you have in mind?"

"Greetings, Yrael," Teja says, approaching. "What is the matter?"

"Apparently the Bar would like to congratulate me on having been coming here however long she thinks I've been coming here," Yrael replies with a wry smile. "Despite my first-hand awareness of having known of Milliways much longer than that."

"She gave me cake, and a party-hat."

"Which is of course gravely offensive," Teja says, not smiling at all at the slightly snarky not!cat.

Not at all.

"Gravely. She gave me sashimi to make up for it, at the very least," he grins. "Would you want to partake in some of the cake?"

At first, Teja hesitates; he would not eat cake if it is too sweet, or too fruity, or in other ways too childish.

But then, he decides there is no reason to be wary of cake.

"Yes, please, indeed, my friend," he says.

For all Yrael knows, it could be a fish-cake in substance as well as form. Or it could be chocolate. Or caramel-pecan. Or it could be carrot-cake.

There is only one way to find out.

Yrael cuts Teja a piece, from the front half of the dorsal fin (decorated in blue-green icing) to the lateral line of the fish. "Enjoy," Yrael grins. "If the Bar says it is a day to celebrate, we should celebrate."

"We must ever do what she wishes us to, lest she declare a general call-in of all tab," Teja says, smiling.

He takes a fork, and eats a piece of the cake.

"A'right, a'right, so we're doin' this again? Could you at least give me a decent drink?" Someone is being cranky at the Bar. Someone short, and brunette, and smelling of boom.

Well, there's a voice he hasn't heard in quite a while. And Ace's particular eau de par~~fume~~boom is always unique.

"Bar, be a dear and give the lady a decent drink," he cajoles in his best you-love-me-so-give-me-scritches tone. "On my tab."

"An' you! I know you. Or I should know you. Sommat like that. Cake an' sashimi, really?" Wibbly-wobbly whatever - Ace is just as opinionated, whatever her history.

"You should, indeed, for I know you," Yrael replies, equably, though he is somewhat surprised at being... semi-forgotten. "Care for some cake? A party hat?"

The sashimi is his.

"... Right." She makes a gimme hand at the cake. Somehow it seems right.

"Dig in," he advises with a smirk. She gets a triangular piece of cake - the fish's upper tailfin, decorated in blue-green icing.

Yrael will stick with his sashimi for now. It is fresh and delicious. Nomnom.

She picks at the cake, almost daintily, while she nurses a rum and coke.

"So, I'm guessin' it's a big day, f'you."

"Bar tells me it has been eight years to the day since I first stepped foot in Milliways. Though I tell her it has been over a quarter of a century for me, she does not see reason. Or have any good answer as to why Earth's years - the length of time if not specifically-numbered years - are something used for timekeeping at the end of the Universe, for that matter."

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