milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There's a Watcher in the bar.

Specifically, there's an Andrew Wells in the bar, seated in a booth not far from the fireplace. He's ostensibly making a list in his notepad, but right now he's staring into the fire without really seeing the flames or the serenely circling fish, pen resting forgotten on the page.

He's got stuff on his mind.

Any moment now he's going to notice that the tip of the pen's making a large blot and the list will have to be redone.

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"I'm not sure what graham crackers are, but chocolate, yes."

Maybe not in huge doses, but it's good stuff.

"Uh ... mildly sweet crackers made with whole grain flour, usually sweetened with honey?"

He shrugs, gamely. "Sounds all right."

(This is what happens when your universe doesn't have Presbyterians.)

(No, really.)

Andrew leans over and waves to a nearby waitrat. "Can we get a plate of s'mores? And --" To Gaeta: "I'm getting a glass of milk, what's yours?"

"Coffee's fine," he says. "Thanks."

"And a coffee. -- And some plain marshmallows too? In case Gogo doesn't like the s'mores."

Did somebody say marshmallows? Gogo immediately perks up, eyeing the waitrat hopefully. It eyes him back with considerably more nerves.

"Yes, we're getting marshmallows for you," says Gaeta, giving the dodo's feathers another ruffle with his hand. "Because you're such a good bird."

The waitrat squeaks assent and heads off, giving Gogo a slightly wider berth than completely necessary.

Andrew settles back in his seat in happy anticipation.

Wryly amused, "I think the next item on his training list might be 'don't scare the waitrats.'"

"Dodos don't eat rodents, do they?"

"No, everything I've read says they're herbivores. The dodo food Bar's been giving me is...mostly nuts and seeds, I think?"

Beat.

"Gods, I'm so glad some universe somewhere makes prepackaged dodo food."

"-- there's prepackaged dodo food?"

Andrew's face lights up.

"Apparently." He's starting to smile faintly again. "Probably from the same universe that domesticated dodos in the first place."

"Plock," Gogo chimes in, which earns him another absent headrub from Gaeta.

"So cool," he says happily.

Less happily: "... In my world they went extinct."

Gaeta's mouth twists in apology. "Yeah, I heard that from a few other people, too," he says. "It seems more common than the domesticated option."

"If they were all as cute as this guy, domesticating them was a great idea. I wish we'd done it."

He reaches out to offer Gogo another headrub.

Gogo certainly doesn't object!

...well, to the headrub part, not the being-extinct-in-another-universe part.

A couple feet away, the returning waitrat halts with its tray of s'mores, drinks, and marshmallows, as if debating whether to come back later or try to dodge around the giant bird.

"Over here," calls Andrew, waving to the waitrat. "Gogo, let him by, come on."

"Scoot, Gogo," Gaeta adds, and the bird obligingly hops aside to duck under the table. That sparks another tiny smile from Gaeta; Gogo's learning. Good.

That's something, at least.

Pretty soon, everything's loaded up onto the table and the waitrat's dashing clear of the dodo.

"And now," he declares, "s'mores."

And picks up one for himself. (Carefully. They're a little oozy, as the best s'mores are.)

Gaeta claims one as well, eyeing the marshmallow with some dubiousness. It certainly looks very...runny.

And sugary.

But he offers it to Gogo anyway, who eyes it just as dubiously before leaning in to take a sniff. As soon as he smells it, though, he rears back, affronted. There are things in there that are not marshmallow. What did you DO?

"Not a fan, huh," he says sympathetically. Gaeta takes a bite, chews thoughtfully for a moment, then raises his eyebrows with a pleased huh.

Andrew beams, chewing on his own, and swallows. "See?"

(Note for future reference: dodos do not like chocolate.)

"Not bad." He takes another nibble. "...It's really sweet."

"Well," taking a swig of milk, "it's supposed to be. I mean, the marshmallow is basically just sugar and gelatin."

"True," he allows. With a wry smile, "You're always introducing me to the weirdest foods."

It's clear he means it as a compliment.