milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"But musing what an easy thing it were to mix our opiates in a larger cup," Autor says, patting the counter in preparation to hop over it. "And drink, and not perceive"—and here he hops—"sleep deepening lead his truer kinsman up, like undistinguished Night, darkening the skirts of Eve.*"

After a few minutes of setting up his prior preparations, the boy reaches for the specials board. "Good night, Bar."

Bitter Chocolate Aria
Hot chocolate & one croissant

Submission Sonata
Virgin strawberry & wasabi daiquiri

Ode to Blood
Giga ant eggs, sour apple juice, seltzer water, flavored ice

Fiery Trigon
Grenadine, lemon juice, apple juice, passion fruit juice, & cinnamon

Silent Overture
Free coffee if you can prove that you’re knighted

Note: Virgin bar.

[This post is open forever.]

*Ode to Sleep , Richard Chenevix Trench

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"Tis edible," Poins finally declares. "Quite well and tasty, even though it was not made by Sunshine."

Autor cracks up. "Passable," was what the kid had called Sunshine's rolls, so it seems fitting that Poins would apply a similar term.

"I'm glad it meets your approval," he says, smirking. "Do you cook?"

Poins snorts.

"The world is grateful to its good creator," he says, "that I do not, and never would attempt to poison strangers or to harm my friends."

Autor shakes his head and nibbles on his croissant. "One day you'll find yourself bereft of everything but a skillet and eggs and will most certainly starve."

He shakes his head again. "A tragedy, really, that a man with so hilarious a mouth is unable to feed it with his own hands."

"I could eat apples," Poins says.

"You could!" Autor says. "I hear the worms are good for you, too."

"I'll pull them out afore I eat the apple," Poins says, "and use them then to catch myself some fish."

"Do you know how to cook fish?" Autor says. "Where would you get your line?"

He sips his tea. "Also, there are no wenches in this scenario, just in case you've forgotten."

"I can fry fish upon a fire," Poins shrugs. "Tis easy, and will need no cooking skills at all."

Autor laughs. "Lies," he says. "That is cooking, of a sort. And I can't do that."

"How wilt thou feed thyself?" Poins laughs. "Thou canst not live on pastry all alone."

Autor cackles. "I'd wait for Sunshine to come around with her tray of delicious things, and buy something not-pastry like. Or order from the dear Bar."

Poins laughs. "Thou art no better than I am, for sooth, friend!" he declares.

"Did I ever say I was?" Autor says, grinning. "Like everyone else, your assumptions will surely be your downfall. And you're not the only one who prefers Sunshine's cooking to their own, and for good reason."

Then he gestures with his croissant. "What mischief have you made lately?"

"Mischief?" Poins grins. "For sooth, me? I am as innocent as is a lamb, the colour of new freshly fallen snow, bleating with sweetest voice upon the meadow!"

"And I'm a flat-chested wench," Autor says flatly.

"Oh, may I see?" Poins smirks.

"Pfft, no. If I'm a monklet in one form, why wouldn't I be a nunlet in the other?" Autor says dryly.

"No mischief, then," Poins declares, airily. "For who would fain corrupt a nunlet thus?"

"I know of at least one man who would try, but he doesn't concern me," Autor says. "For nunlet or no, I am immune to his charms."

The boy props his elbows on the bar, grinning. "How is lambhood treating you?"

"Afeared of wolves," Poins says, leaning upon the bar as well, and grinning back. "How good to know thou art none!"

"Hm!" Autor says, pulling back from him. "Now that you mention it, you do have a rather wolfish cast about you. I'm no wolf, but I suspect you might simply be borrowing a lambskin."

"To better lure the monklet, or indeed, the nunlet to my fangs?" Poins smirks.

"Isn't it the lion who lays with the lamb?" Autor blinks, in a manner which he hopes is convincingly innocent. "Or does that not apply if you're a wolf? I don't recall nunlets having anything to do with that."

Edited 2013-05-09 21:09 (UTC)

"Did I propose to lie with thee?" Poins asks, pretending cogitation. "For sooth, I think I did!"