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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"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!"

Autor holds up his hand. "Why, look! I'm not just a monklet, but an oracle, with the power to see the future. Therefore I must repeat that I am immune to you in any form of yours, be you wolf, or lamb, or pointed man, or even the Spotted Apple, Nell."

Then he blinks. "Goodness, Poins, but you are as changeable as the wind. How can any wench lay hands on you, when you slip through their fingers so?"

"Of, if a wench lay hand on me, I shall stay still to let her have my use!" Poins says. "Thou, monklet, wouldst fain flee from such a joy, if I am not mistaken: but I shall sprawl and move not till the deed is done!"

And it's right about here that Autor remembers how to blush. "The only use of the wind is spreading seeds," the kid says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So enjoy your many flower children come May."

"But 'tis not wind I'm passing on to them," Poins laughs.

"Ah-" the boy starts, but finds his lips are burning too much for him to speak. He holds up a finger to request a moment to think.

"And like any good monklet, I'll flee from the very thought, and join another one," he says, seeking a teacup. "The mind's not called for when a-wenching, so as a creature who prefers to live in his head, I'm clearly disqualified."

"Thou must, like any man, live in thy body," Poins says, "for in thy mind alone, thou art naught but a ghost!"

"Then a ghost I shall be," Autor says with a flourish, "and haunt the library forever, guarding the books and fending off spectral wenches."

"For sooth, thou speakest," Poins says, "as if wouldst relish such a dreary life -- nay, unlife, as a ghost is not alive!"

Autor sighs wistfully, and clasps his hands together. "I would, I would--except that I already live it now, and am relatively happy. I even sleep there!"

He gestures to Poins' drink. "Did you want to try something else?"

"And I should find thee when thou sleepest?" Poins says. "But no, I have this drink, and leave the be to tend to thy good patrons, and thy chastity!"

Autor grins. "Pfft, good luck with that," he says, fairly certain he's safe on his flying carpet in the rafters from the likes of Ned Poins.

"Take care, friend."

[OOC: Hee, thanks for the thread! Poins is always hilarious.]

"I shall!" Poins says, and leaves.

[[OOC: Thank you! And now, Poins is tending bar in turn, with a little challenge...]]

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