milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

moist von lipwig

(no subject)

A bored Moriarty is - ...

Well. It's not a terrible thing. There aren't any fires or anything, although that could change in time.

He's carved out a little corner of the bar for his anxious pacing, where there is, amongst other things, no less than ten sixteen-by-sixteen Sudokus pinned to the wall, three Rubiks Cubes, a half dozen newspapers with various words outlined seemingly at random (and various notes attached - one edition of the Times has a massive 'INVESTIGATE DEMONIC ACTIVITY' scribbled on it in red), and a quarter empty bottle of whiskey.

Moriarty himself doesn't look too great. His coat is flopped over the back of a chair, his waistcoat undone, his cravat who-knows-where, his shirt missing several buttons near the neck, and he has a reddish cut over his eye that's probably an hour or two old.

Botherable.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Who," Moriarty says, picking up the book carefully, "would even make a book that bites people? Obviously they're a genius for thinking of it, but still."

"... People who sell book bindings?" Oswin replies, sensibly, keeping a good foot away from the book at all times. She's seen that thing jump.

"I'm sure the book binding business is booming enough as it is," Moriarty says, turning the book over in his hands carefully.

It appears to be a very old book with a very fuzzy cover and a heavy leather belt latched tight around it. The teeth are just visible under the belt leather.

"Yeah, but you're not the one sending poor Book Binder Junior off to school."

Moriarty pulls out his pipe, prodding in the general vicinity of the teeth.

"I would've thought Book Binder Junior would be taking an apprenticeship with his father."

"Classist." Oswin snorts, leaning (somewhat unwisely) against the opposite bookshelf. "Maybe he has higher aspirations than dealing with leather his whole life."

"I think his peers amongst the educated elite would turn their noses up at his humble, book-binding upbringing," Moriarty says sagely.

"Must be tough to be them." Oswin snarks, "Because if he's that motivated, he's going to take to honors."

"I imagine they have a startling ability to self-delude. It'll shield them from acknowledging his motivation and book-bindy wiles."

"Yeah, right up until they find themselves working for him - money and idiocy only take you so far." Oswin and her hacking skills have never been a part of that. Ever. Really.

...

>.>

Wryly: "That'd never happen in my world. You're either born respectable, or everybody remembers that you're not, no matter what you end up doing."

"Oh, so there are some things my universe is better at. Come up and see me sometime." Well, no, not really... outside that door is the very definition of not better, but still. Even androids can rise to the upper class with a bit of determination and skill.

"I would warrant your universe is better in a whole host of ways," Moriarty remarks. "Mine is foggy, bloody and wound up so tightly in custom and hierarchy that it can barely breathe."

To say nothing, and indeed to actively avoid touching upon, the Royals and their offspring.

"Yours kind of wins on default on account of lack of Daleks." She shrugs. It's a thing. A very real, very tangible thing, and that's... well. Not fine, but she's come to terms.

Kinda.

Sorta.

Not at all, but she fakes it well.

"So, bitey book."

"Bitey book," Moriarty says firmly.

"Hard to get a full appreciation, with it all tied up." She points out cheerfully. Because yes. The first thing she did to the book that was noted specifically for its ability to bite was to turn it loose.

"You raise a valid point," Moriarty says.

He turns the book away from him, throws a wide grin in Oswin's direction, and then unties it.

Evidently the 'Monster Book of Monsters' isn't so much about monsters as it is about self-preservation - Oswin has already learned the smartest place to be is behind Moriarty.

A place which she has moved to with great haste and a not-at-all-terrified squeak as the paper starts to fly and the book starts to snarl.

Moriarty, apparently born without any kind of programmed fear response whatsoever, just peers in fascination at the book, keeping it wedged shut as best he can with his hands.

He might let it open its jaws a little. Just to get a better look at those teeth.

It makes the most infuriated noises. Oswin peers around her human shield to eye the book curiously.

"I still don't understand how anyone's supposed to read that thing."

"Well, if you're strong enough, you could hold it open safely, I suppose."

"Well, good going, Goliath." Oswin huffs, because... yeah. She got chased by that book. And had to stomp on it to get it closed again.

Serenely: "It's not my fault you're tiny."

Beat.

"It's a spirited little thing, though."

She sticks her tongue out at him, because... well, unless she wants this to get horribly and theoretically incestuous, then no, no he has nothing to do with her being tiny.

"Spirited, evil, opinions differ." She's going with evil, but a very entertaining and fascinating evil.

"It can be both," Moriarty points out.

After a moment's thought, he sets the book on the ground and pins it there with his foot, before picking up the binding and carefully tying it up again.