milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Autor leaves a delectable, fist-sized peach with the bar for the Emcee, writing a note: Vielen Dank für die Beratung. -A.

Later he curls up on the couch, adding length to a navy blue knitting project shorter than his forearm in one dimension but longer than he is tall in the other. Due to Margolotta's instruction, the boy's stitches are loose and even, for the most part. His hands are gentle as he absently moves the needles; he no longer stabs himself in the left index finger with every other purl. Nor does he get that odd, occasional dent in his rows.

But the project draped across his legs doesn't get near as much attention as the book propped up on his knees. The boy is consumed by the well-loved text, Fairy Tale: The Life of Herr Drosselemyer.

It might be difficult to interrupt him.

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Gavroche laughs aloud at that.

"Don't let him hear you say that, you might live to regret it. He's been getting into modern medicine, exercise and things like that."

"I know," Autor says, inclining his head. He scratches behind Franz's ear. "We've had quite a few discussions about the condition of the Millidead--his term--and how they don't age. My broken arm also gave him the chance to see the bone fuser in action; I don't know if he has integrated himself into the infirmary staff, but I'd be shocked if he hasn't."

"So would I", Gavroche agrees. "He would have been a great doctor, if he'd finished his studies - and not even a good doctor by that time's standards, just good."

"Well, now he has a chance to learn everything the library and infirmary of the future offer," Autor says, returning to his knitting needles and leaving Franz be. "I think he'll be a wonderful doctor here. He's certainly dedicated to his studies and to the health of people--especially his friends. He told me he has set Bahorel's nose already."

"Oh, yes, I heard about that too." It's a little rueful, but he knows his friends all too well. "It probably won't be the last time."

"No, it probably won't," Autor agrees, knitting one stitch and purling two. "Especially if they run into Gene Hunt again."

"I'm hoping they won't. Or at least, they don't let him provoke them so easily next time."

"I don't know if that can be helped," Autor says, shrugging as he loops his yarn over his needles. "In any case, they appear to be able to take good care of themselves. The French invasion, as I so jokingly call them, are fairly self-sufficient despite the occasional trouble with Security."

"We always were, each in his own way", he says with a nod, entirely counting himself as one of them. "And you're right, they'll be fine. Especially now there's more of us, I know the later arrivals were missed."

"You are all truly fortunate to have each other," Autor agrees, needles flying. "I am so surprised at how many of you came from the same time and place."

Gavroche grins. "It was a significant time and place. Great events... or they might have been."

The boy nods, letting go of his needle to raise a hand. "So it was, and so they were. I wonder if there are any other groups of people in the bar that come from times of great upheaval. I know Rae is the only one from her world."

"But I think in hers, the upheaval's mostly over. It's sort of settled back into calm, if not exactly peace. None of us saw our upheaval end." He glances at the knitting. "What're you making?"

"That's true. Hers has settled into a pattern of sorts, as far as I can tell," Autor says, inclining his head. Then he raises his knitting to offer Gavroche a closer look. "An afghan. It's getting colder now, but I didn't think knitting one would take so long. I suspect it'll take me two to three months."

"It'll still be cold then", he says lightly. "And you'll have it for next year."

"That's very true. I wanted to knit some projects for friends but I didn't realize it would take me this long. I might not have the stamina as a beginning knitter," Autor says, purling away. "I should have started on a project for someone else first, but now that I've started this one I can't put it down until I finish it."

His hands pause, and he tilts his head. "Thank you for asking. You didn't have to."

He shrugs.

"It was right there, and I wanted to know. You might get faster as you go along."

"I hope so," Autor says, wrinkling his nose at his yarn. "Do you have any hobbies like knitting? I know you look after your friends, but that's more an occupation."

"I... draw", he admits after a moment. "Sometimes. I like doing faces."

Autor blinks, wondering why he hesitated. "That's an excellent skill to have. Are you any good? I mean, it's difficult to judge oneself objectively, but still."

"People've said so. Not that I can be sure they were being objective..."

He is, in fact, very good, but it's one of the few points where his confidence fails him.

"Well, if you don't mind me looking, I'd love to see your drawings sometime," Autor says quietly. "It's a great skill; not everyone can do it. I certainly can't, so count me envious already."

He hesitates again, then nods, says a word in the Speech and pulls a sketchpad seemingly out of thin air.

"I keep it where I can get it out any time" he explains. "Here."

Many people feature in the book, faces familiar and unfamiliar to Autor.

Autor blinks at the randomly appearing sketchbook--another skill he's envious of, he realizes--and takes it to look over the pages. He whistles softly. "You're good, Gavroche. You're very good, and I'm not just saying that," he says, flipping through. "These are lifelike. Have you shown this one of Rae to her?"

"Not yet. I haven't really showed it to anybody, except Karou once and she knew I was drawing her."