milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The door opens and Jean-Phillipe scuttles in, occupied in counting the coins in a purse that looks much too rich to belong to him.

Sensing the change in his surroundings, he glances up and beams, then heads straight for the Bar.

"Pastries, s'il vous plait. Lots of pastries, as many as this will buy."

The gamins of Paris will be having a feast tonight.

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"Children eat free here," is the comment made by a quiet, resonant baritone. Its owner happens to be sitting at the Bar and glances down at the boy with some amusement.

"Besides, that's rather a lot for one of you. So what do you need to use that purse for?"

"For the others", he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "That aren't here."

It's what he'd have done if he'd found a baker at home willing to turn a blind eye.

"They may not be, but you're the one placing the order." And for hungry children, at that. "I believe that is the salient point, yes, Bar?"

He smiles down at the counter faintly.

The purse and its contents steadfastly don't disappear, however much the boy eyes them.

"So it's this fund, then?"

"Bar has a deep sense of fairness," Tavi says in a tone of agreement. "She isn't going to expect children or those who are Bound here with no recourse to make money actually suffer for it."

"But I've got recourse to make money."

Well. Steal it from the rich.

Tavi shoots him an amused, sidelong glance.

"How old are you?"

"Don't know", he says cheerfully.

He could be five, at most, and an underfed five at that.

Edited 2014-10-20 21:27 (UTC)

Well, Tavi always looked younger than he was as a child (thanks Isana), so he's not always the best judge.

"Well, I'm sure paying a tab won't be something you have to worry about for well over ten years."

"I pay what I owe", he says with sudden fierceness. "Every time."

Well. That's interesting.

"You'd have to talk to Bar about that," Tavi says lightly. "She's the one who determines tabs, really."

Because that kind of dedication is not something Tavi is going to insult. Bar, however, has the final say. (Except in what he can quietly do without being asked.)

His personal system of morals is still forming, but it has a core, and that core is: Would my father do that? Then don't.

"I will, then."

Negatives work for a start--but in Tavi's experience, positive rather than negative directions form a firmer foundation long-term.

And he's not sure what started this for this boy, but there's someone he's reacting against, that much is obvious.

But for now he just waves a hand at the counter for the boy to proceed. After all, that's a fairly large purse at stake, for a kid like this.

"Look, Bar", he starts. "It's my money... now..." with a sideways glance at Tavi "so why should I dip into the fund? I'd've gone to a baker but you were here first."

Bar seems to consider this, and eventually the purse disappears.

...what she's done with it is another question, as the older Gavroche has never been one for running a tab for long.

Edited 2014-10-21 09:54 (UTC)

Tavi just smiles quietly. He'll deal with the rest of this after the kid's gone.

That kind of heart and ingenuity merits reward, after all.

"Pastries is a fairly broad term," he says instead. "You might want to get more specific."

"But there's so many kinds. And I want different ones."

"Well, why don't you specify your favorite, and make the rest an assortment?"

Because there's nothing quite so disappointing as wanting a large selection, getting it, and realizing the one thing you wanted isn't in there.

"...good idea." He grins. "St Honore cake, then. And pain au chocolat."

Edited 2014-10-21 22:26 (UTC)

"Chocolate is one of those things I very much envy Earth for having," Tavi comments with a wry sigh.

Tavi knows more or less where chocolate would be in Alera, if it exists--but if it does, he can't get to it. (Sometimes, when he has nothing better to do, he debates the ethics of importing it...)

"But you can get it here", he points out cheerfully. "Unlimited supply."

"Something I take advantage of with frequency," he assures the boy. "It would still be nice to have it at home."

"You could get plants." He's irrepressible, generally speaking. "It grows from plants, doesn't it?"

"Yes--but a rather temperamental one, if I understand it correctly. Figuring out where it would grow might take some doing, and not something I've had a chance to do yet."

Yet.

"People grow things in glass houses, don't they? If they need it warm?"

"Growing it isn't the point. Explaining where it was found is rather difficult." And the kind of thing that gets people locked up for being crazy.

"But if it's just seeds? One seed looks much like another 'til it grows... don't you have any unexplored parts?"

"At the moment, none that are accessible." Tavi's expression darkens with anger. Crowbegotten Vord--although it was true even before them.

"At the moment? But there might be one day?"

"Maybe." Tavi stretches a little, eyes distant and wistful. He knows traveling and exploring those places probably won't ever be something he'll get to do personally, at least until he can hand the Crown off. "But likely not for two or three decades at the very least."

He takes a long view of these things.

"That's still in your lifetime", he points out cheerfully, ignoring any possibility of a curtailed lifetime.

Assuming we all survive the next two weeks.

But the kid is so young, he doesn't need to know about that. "And it does give me time to do the research. It just won't be any time soon." Alas.

"Until then, you've got Milliways to do what you like in."

There may or may not be some extra pastry added into the already-enormous pile.

With his favorites right near the top.

Never let it be said that Eponine has or will ever forget what her brother likes.

He gives her a sideways glance and a crooked grin. "Thanks. Take one for yourself."

Edited 2014-10-24 09:35 (UTC)

She waves him off with a smile. "Already ate my fill, but I think you oughtta have two!" Yep. Someone's in an indulgent mood.

"I'll have plenty later", he says easily. "But maybe one now."

"And which kind are you going to have?" she wonders. There are, it's worth noting, many kinds of pastry set out before him.

He surveys the spread, then makes a sudden and possibly whimsical decision and grabs one.

"That."

What he picks appears to be a slice of mille feuille, dripping with custard.

"Good choice," says Eponine. And Bar is terribly generous to throw cake into the mix.

He bites into it, messily considering the custard, and makes a muffled but approving noise.

At that she laughs. "Try the violet one next. Never thought flowers'd taste so sweet."

"I can't eat them all", he says with his mouth full. "Got to share."

"With this much, sharin's what it's good for," she observes, stuffing an eclair between her lips.

"That's why I've got it. For the other gamins."

"Get 'em as much as they can carry - they'll need it. Winter must be coming."

Eponine never wants to remember the winter, what it can do to young bones.

"I got a good score, and then the door showed up. Must be fate."

"Or a little magic at work," Eponine teases.

He snorts.

"Magic? In our world - or d'you mean from here?"

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