milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

[OOM: Practice talking to girls]

Trapped. That's what Harry's been these many weeks past, and of his own doing too -- that's not to be denied. The more he must smile and bow and expend his manners, the more he wishes for a horse and a sword and a Scottish border raid. When a door in Philippa de Coucy's house opens into Milliways instead of yet another solar full of nursemaids and noble daughters, to say his relief is palpable is only to concede to the limits of language.

So, though his hair is combed and he's trussed up in his finest visiting suit, it's a pretty good time to meet young Harry Percy. He's making a beeline for the Bar, intent on trying some new food or drink that's beyond the scope of his era. Go on. Ask him how his quest for a wife is going.

11 PM CST Oh no, guys! You're wonderful; I have to go to sleep. Will tag up tomorrow!

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It's only now, several swallows of coffee later, that she reflects that maybe Harry was being metaphorical.

"Sorry," she says with a faint grimace.

"It does that. I think maybe forever?"

"So long as such nonsense does not follow me home."

Now he's frowning, though. "What devils can you mean, though? Why do they keep you from sleep?"

"Dude, I don't know," Ava sighs.

She is no longer sure whether they are both on the same page.

"For the record, no actual devil or demon or ghost or anything is literally stopping me from sleeping." She rubs at her temple, then pulls her hand away with an absent frown.

"Then what is?"

He eyes her drink suspiciously now.

Ava snorts faintly.

"You're really curious about this."

He shrugs.

"A little."

Yes.

She sips.

"Why?"

"Why should I not be?"

~~ACTUAL DEVILS.~~

"I don't know. Curiosity's good."

Unless it kills you.

"What specifically are you curious about, though, just so I'm on the same page?"

"If you cannot sleep for want of protection from a devil, I've no means of comprehending that. If it be something a little closer to earth, well." He shrugs. "I love to sleep, and hate to think of it denied."

"Oh, well," she says.

I could help you comprehend that, buddy.

Ava's lips quirk.

"I guess I'm just stressed out. I got into a fight with some of my friends."

"...is that all?" Harry laughs. "God's me, I should never sleep if such things weighed so much on me. Shall it not pass?"

"I guess?" she says. "I mean, I think they forgive me, it's just ..."

A pause.

"Have you ever, like, done something, and then had it really hit you later?"

"Maybe."

(Much more often than he'll allow.)

"Well, this is one of those."

She sighs.

"And it's weird, and I need more coffee."

Someone else might pursue the matter, attempt to talk out the issue or soothe the sufferer with platitudes.

Harry grunts, and peers at a menu chalked on the wall.

Personally, that suits Ava fiiiiiine. She drains the last of her coffee with a faint grimace for the bitter taste.

Then she grins.

"You get in a lot of fights?"

"There's many a man who starts them with me."

Who knows why?

Good thing he ~~always wins~~ doesn't mind.

"I totally know the feeling," she assures him.

People trapped in fights to the death can be so aggressive!

Right?

He eyes her. "Do you get in many fights?"

Seems a bit unlikely, doesn't it?

"Iii've been known to get in one or two."

Dozen.

"I should not have taken you for a brawler, but stranger things, I'll wager."

Because, well. Here they are, aren't they.

"Well, half the time they start it with me, so."

She's half a brawler?

"Only half? You are more trouble than I -- I never enter a fray that has not come to me first."

La la la la.

"Oh, wow," Ava approves, possibly without one hundred percent credulity.

She nods sagely.

"That's impressive."