Breakfast at Milliways

[cook_the_rude]

Among the patrons enjoying a late, leisurely Sunday breakfast are:

• Teja, who has exchanged his usual rough Roman bread, cured meat, and moretum for toast, smoked fish, and horseradish cream cheese this morning and is being watched very intensely by all four cats who are either criticising his choices, or waiting for a bit of fish to accidentally drop to the floor;
• Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who is making omelettes at his table in a small electric pan, with fresh organic eggs, and a few bowls of additional ingredients that he throws into each omelette, while strong coffee drips through his elaborate glass machine;
• Lady Margolotta, who has a pot of tea, with proper cups and saucers, and even a few ginger biscuits handy to offer to people who do eat.

All of them are quite prepared to share their breakfast with you, should you approach them.-

Comments

[herr_bookman]

And Autor, who almost never enjoys anything in a leisurely fashion, glides his carpet right up to the bar--with one leg straight--to grab a dozen quick breakfasts of his own. After ordering an orange juice, he compares a couple of folded handouts with the air of a boy resigned to swallowing a very large pill.

[ostro_goth]

There is a little grey cat that is sitting on the bar and now simply jumps up onto the carpet.

[herr_bookman]

Autor smiles at him, soft and pale, and immediately orders up a dish of tuna.

Count is dead, but not rotting.

[ostro_goth]

At the moment, Count is mostly interested in the flying carpet experience, and sprawls leisurely around Autor's feet.

[herr_bookman]

The boy's shoulders loosen. He gently buries his fingers in the animal's scruff, scratching up behind his ears with one hand and up under his chin with the other.

Then he closes his eyes.

[ostro_goth]

Count can have all the tuna he wants, since the Allpocalypse.

But there can never be too many skritches.

[herr_bookman]

Autor chuckles. He has never met a cat that didn't like skritches, and he's been informed that he's decent at giving them--and he knows how they feel. The boy rakes his fingertips softly down the furry ribs, marveling at how the skin rolls, and then pets flat-palmed.

He will lavish skritches, calm if not quite content, as long as the cat will indulge him.

[ostro_goth]

The cat sprawls over his feet and then turns a little, lying on his back, so Autor can reach his belly fluff.

[herr_bookman]

"I am honored," Autor whispers, blinking deliberately and slow, and brushes his thumb over Count's regal head. He rubs his front paws, and then the back two, seeking permission to pat the offered belly. If Count grabs him, he'll withdraw.

[ostro_goth]

Count doesn't withdraw at all; he sprawls luxuriously and quite obviously enjoys every moment.

[herr_bookman]

Autor gently lays a hand on the belly. And that's all, for a bit. Eventually, if Count approves, he'll continue with the benign cuddling and head scitches. "Thank you," he says, "for caring for me when I was blind, and a kitten."

[ostro_goth]

Count snuggles, not indicating whether he has understood anything at all.

[herr_bookman]

Autor pets the cat with one hand and looks over the handouts with the other, keeping his strokes slow and steady.

[ostro_goth]

Count raises his head and rubs it against the papers. You can't look at papers if there is a cat!

[herr_bookman]

Autor snorts, amused, and tries to drag the handouts--which surely Count is claiming as his own, surely--out from underneath the insistent kitty's head. I wonder if he'll let me eat breakfast once I order it?

He orders one hard boiled egg, a pumpkin muffin, and a banana--finger foods, just in case he needs one hand free for skritches--and waits to find out.

[ostro_goth]

Count curls up in his lap, battle won.

[herr_bookman]

And Autor noshes, petting the triumphant feline.

[ostro_goth]

"One would hope the cat is not molesting you?" a dark, dry voice says from nearby.

[herr_bookman]

"One would hope that I'm not molesting the cat," Autor says, dipping his head respectfully. "Hello, Teja."

[ostro_goth]

"If you were, he would leave," Teja says.

He's looking relaxed and friendly today, wearing a faded black tee-shirt that says GOTH in faded red blackletter type, and actual -- jeans?

[herr_bookman]

"True enough. I like cats for that, among other reasons," Autor says, skritching Count. "What do you think of jeans? They seemed such a strange garment when I first arrived."

[ostro_goth]

"I am going to Vinci today, to ride my motor-cycle once more before it turns wintry even there," Teja says. "These garments are good for that."

[herr_bookman]

"Oh, I didn't know you had one of those," Autor says, rubbing behind Count's ears. "I've spent a little time in the garage but wouldn't recognize one if I saw one. How fast does yours go?"

[ostro_goth]

"Fast," Teja says. "180 km/h -- which is not that fast for a modern car, but it does accelerate very well, as it is light, compared to a car."

[herr_bookman]

Autor's eyes widen a bit. "Seems fast to me. But the only vehicle I've ever traveled with is the carpet, and that's about 80 km/h when I'm well-rested," he says. "Do you store your motor-cycle here, given that you're... um. Did you purchase it in Vinci? How often do you travel there?"