milliways_bar | (no subject)

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What just happened?

As Fakir reaches the Goldkrone smithy, he's thinking it through: I saw Rue. I wanted to ask her what she did to Mytho. I grabbed her by the shoulders.

Fakir holds the doorknob, lost in thought.

Then Duck tried to stop me. And then Mytho was pulling me, and I reached back--

I didn't mean to hit him. But I did. And the whole school saw us.

I don't care what they think of me. I deserve it anyway. I've hurt him before.

Fakir opens the door and walks in before he notices that he's come to Milliways instead of his foster father's house. Good. At least the people here at Milliways don't go to school with him. (With a few exceptions.)

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Certainly, almost no one here goes to school with him...but he does wear a distinctive school uniform. One that Punie's seen before.

It takes her a moment to determine her means of approach. A second later, she has a vase with an arrangement of cut lilacs in her arms. It's a rather large bouquet, and she's not a tall girl, so it's hardly surprising that in the act of crossing the floor in the direction of the bar, the flower-filled vase gets in the way of her line of sight -- and she manages to bump against the young man who has just entered.

"Oh!" she exclaims, and quickly backs up a step, lowering the vase so she can see over the top of it. "I'm so very sorry -- I didn't splash you, did I?"

"It's fine," Fakir answers, ignoring the cold water on the shoulder of his uniform.

"Do you think you should sit down?"

He supposes he ought to help her find a table.

"I knew I shouldn't have filled it so full...." Fortunately -- or rather, as planned -- there's an empty table just behind her. She sets the vase down on the table, and quick as a flash she has a clean handkerchief in one hand, and holds it out to him. "Please, do use this."

(The handkerchief is not nearly as pink as it might be. She doesn't want to scare him off entirely.)

"No need." The water will dry, after all, and at least the vase looks properly balanced now.

After a moment, Fakir remembers what social skills he has. "My name is Fakir." He does not offer a handshake, nor does he bow. His social skills don't stretch that far.

She's acquired his name, at least. That's more than she got out of Autor after more than one meeting and several instances of physical violence. Perhaps this will go more smoothly than she had expected.

Punie smiles as she drops a small curtsy -- court-perfect and automatic -- and then folds her hands in front of her. "Mine is Punie. And I wish I'd had a better opportunity to introduce myself before I got your clothing wet. I don't always see many people closer to my age here."

"Stop worrying about it," Fakir answers. "I told you, it's fine."

She probably won't stop unless Fakir changes the subject. Fakir supplies, "What are the flowers for?"

Punie runs a hand along the top of one of the blossoms. "They're in bloom outside on the grounds, near the lake. I was collecting some for myself earlier, and I thought I would make an extra bouquet to place on the bar. There's enough magic in here that I'm sure they'll last a little longer than they would elsewhere -- though I don't know how long they'll last when I'm back in my own world. The magic's a little different there."

Not the most subtle of openings, perhaps, but this one's much less inquisitive than the other.

Fakir looks faintly curious, but neither startled, nor shocked, nor particularly attentive. Sorry, Punie, try again.

"Your world has magic?" Fakir asks.

Faint curiosity is enough to start with. She's patient. And persistent.

"Mine does, yes," she says, nodding. "Right now, I'm living in a place where there isn't much magic, but I was born and grew up in a land that's very magical." She glances around the bar. "It's nice to come here when I can -- it feels more like home to me, in a way, though I know that's not the case for everyone."

Fakir raises his eyebrows. "You left your home, then?"

I've never been further from home than Milliways.

I've never left home at all, other than to go to Milliways.

Funny, why don't I ever think of it like that?

That's a good question. Why don't you ever think of it like that?

"I'm a transfer student at a new school. I'm the only one from my school who comes here, at least that I know of." She tilts her head a little, smiling up at him. "But I think I might have met someone else from your world. Or someone who wears clothing that's very like yours, I should say."

Her expression is all innocent interest, but she's watching him closely.

The girls' uniforms at Goldkrone Academy are quite different from the boys' uniforms, which means -- Either Mytho or Autor.

Fakir's mouth twists a little. Either way, it's not good news.

Controlling his expression again, he raises his eyebrows in polite inquiry.

The twist of his mouth is rather informative. And at his raised eyebrows, Punie actually blushes a little, and lowers her eyes in modest embarrassment (or possibly embarrassed modesty).

"His name is Autor." She twists her clasped hands. "We're...sort of friends." Her hesitation suggests that it's a good deal more than friends, at least on her end.

Fakir's eyebrows fly up even higher. Autor has a girlfriend?

His voice, however, sounds uninterested. "I see."

"Do you know him at all?" The shyness gives way to hopeful cheer. "I haven't known him for very long, but he's been very nice to me since I first came here."

It would not be helpful to add and he's tried to kill me on more than one occasion, even if it is more truthful.

Fakir's eyebrows come down again, in unsubtle disapproval. "We've met. Briefly."

This surprises her less than perhaps it ought to. At the very least, his disapproval does not seem to register with her.

"I can understand. I certainly haven't met everyone at my own school, and if your paths don't often cross there then there's no reason to think that they ought to cross here as well." For such a bold-faced lie, Punie tells it well, and with sincerity. "I was mostly curious, because he doesn't often talk about where he comes from. And I don't want to pry, because that's not nice, but I would like to get to know him better."

If Autor isn't telling this girl all about Goldkrone, Fakir himself certainly won't. Instead, Fakir shrugs. "It's only a small town."

That's true, of course, but severely incomplete.

"That's what it sounds like." From the very, very little that she has been able to glean from him, that is. Closer to the anonymous Japanese town she lives in now than to the great capital city of Magical Land. "I can see why he likes coming here, to be able to meet new people and ask them about where they're from. Or read about them in the library."

A shadow crosses her face then, as she murmurs to herself, "I wonder if he ever found out who was cruel enough to damage those poor books...."

Fakir's posture tightens. He stands taller, chin raised, eyes intent.

You've caught his attention now, Punie.

"Damage books? How were they damaged?"

She doesn't smile. That would give the game away.

"He said that they were vandalized," she says sorrowfully. "I didn't get a very good look at how they were damaged, but whatever had happened to them sounded like it was done deliberately. And it wasn't just one book, or even two or three. There were stacks of them." A pause. "He was looking through them in the library not too long ago. I can understand why it would have upset him so much."

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