milliways_bar | (no subject)

Autor squints at him. He scoops up his tea from the wait rat calmly--not desperately, like he feels--and sips it just as calm. "No, I meant it fully. Just because I felt I ought to doesn't mean I can't also feel remorseful."

Edited 2014-10-14 07:49 (UTC)

"No, no it doesn't." Balthazar agrees, his calm not feigned. Of course, he has quite a few more years of practice in the art of dancing around a topic.

"If I ask you any more questions about yourself, will you answer them?" Autor says, sipping his tea.

"That depends, of course." Balthazar raises an eyebrow at the boy again, "Why are you asking?"

"As is no doubt obvious by now, I am curious about other people," Autor answers, inclining his head. "How they live their lives, or travel from place to place in their worlds, or why they choose to do what they do."

"Ah, but to what end? I once met a very charming young priest with an admirable dedication to his work that I had to be very careful not to tell a thing." And this is completely true - the poor priest had been more interested in law than faith, but that only put him in the perfect position to be part of the juggernaut that took over much of Spain. It wasn't the poor boy's fault that someone had seen him taking down a Morganian.

Autor considers this. For some reason, he reasons out that it wouldn't hurt to tell Balthazar things. "I'm a writer. I look to people for inspiration."

"Inspiration for your writing, or...?" Why yes, Balthazar is a suspicious bastard. You live for over a millennium and let's see how trusting you are.

"Yes, of course," Autor says, blinking guilelessly. "What else would I find inspiration for?"

"This is a bar which is open to an unlimited number of worlds, and an unlimited number of times - the possible answers to that question are endless." Balthazar replies blandly.

"They are," Autor admits, sipping his tea. "But as I said, I am looking for inspiration for my writing, just so. Is that an end you'd mind answering questions for?"

"Perhaps - if you will answer your own question first." What? He doesn't feel the need to be the only one talking here.

"So if I ask a question, I have to answer it myself?" Autor says, blinking. "That's..." His knee-jerk reaction is a big ol' hell, no! but he dare not say that aloud. That would give the wrong impression. "That's the most clever way to deal with me that I've ever seen."

"Why? If you only want to hear the stories, might others not have the same aim?" Balthazar asks in return. "What is it I am not allowed to know about you, when you want to know all about me?"

"Why would you want to know about me?" Autor counters, trying not to fidget overly much. "I suspect you're not a writer."

"No, but I am a patron of a very interesting bar - why wouldn't I want to know about my fellow patrons?" Especially the ones who show such an intense interest.

"You know I'll just ask superficial questions. What's your favorite color, and so on," Autor says, folding his arms. "Blue, by the way."

"Purple." Balthazar replies, teasing another piece of roll free. "Why should you settle for the superficial? It is, of course, your choice."

"Why do you think?" Autor says, and nearly bites his tongue as he realizes that's sort of another question, one which he'll have to answer. "Because I'm afraid people might think me crazy. Name one person you'd die to protect."

He laces his fingers together, watching Balthazar. "Sunshine."

"To defend all that I hold as sacred." Balthazar answers in turn, finding that he actually enjoys this game. "And Sunshine, of course."

"Wow, I like that answer," Autor murmurs, before he hears Baltahzar's second answer. "Wait, what?"

He tilts his head, trying to figure out the man before him. "How do you know her? She taught me how to make croissants, and be a friend, and how to trust."

Edited 2014-10-15 04:45 (UTC)

"I met her when she fed me cinnamon rolls." And thus, his current addiction. They really are good cinnamon rolls.

That grin is startling, and Autor finds himself smiling back. It's a small smile; he's finding he's giving away more than the other man, which is aggravating. He could ask if Balthazar loves her, but the answer is obvious, and so is Autor's. Hmm.

"How old are you? I'm seventeen, I think. Technically I've been seventeen for years, so I don't know how old I really am."

"I am forty-six, I believe, and have been so for some centuries." Balthazar has a pretty good idea how old he is, but he's never sure if he should include the ten years in an urn. They were pretty... dull.

"Centuries," Autor breathes, blinking. "What is your current occupation? I am a student."