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Somebody behind the scenes was pointing out that Lesgle could just do his darn job! It's been a while! and that somebody was quite correct.

Lesgle's strong work ethic has of course been keeping him on a routine schedule of busing tables and cleaning the kitchen, and here he is right now, bustling about in a way that is so far un-disastrous. Do interrupt him!

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"It's quite an undertaking! Is anyone else working with you?"

"Ah, hello! I was looking actively for employment; I admit the position may have been created just to keep me out of the real barmen's hair. But the rats have been very gracious. Mostly. --Would you like a fresh cup of tea?"

"Not as yet. It doesn't seem to be a thing people do in later times, as a rule."

Joly laughs. "If Hugo does show up, we can all lodge our complaints. And I'll have to admit I haven't read the book!" He rubs his chin with his free hand. "Time is a question, isn't it? Can a person eat a loaf of bread here before the wheat for it is even planted?-- And you know, I think they might. But I don't know how at all! But all our times are-- they're all happening at once, here, I think. Which gets very complicated, very fast! I'm sure someone has studied it; maybe I'll try to find someone who knows a bit about the subject."

The laugh gets a much warmer smile--and the warning does, too. "Thank you, sir. I've been warned already, luckily, but I appreciate it. But sir, you still have the advantage of me. We've not been introduced."

"I'm not sure most of the bread here has ever been wheat. But you're right, of course, even without the little quirks and habits of the place itself, we have monks popping in and out of the eighth century to chat with the twenty-first. And then, don't people who come and go generally find that no time has passed at home while they were here?"

"Good, then! You've settled your Christmas gift well, assuming Mlle. Minx accepts jewelry. He gave me a book, which is now in the library, hopefully making itself useful."

"I am Death," he said.

"No..." He scratches his beard thoughtfully. "I don't like to volunteer people for work without their knowledge, but I know a person who paints fans. It's..."

Lesgle waves a hand vaguely. "It might be the same sort of work?"

"It might be similar!" he agrees cheerfully. "What's - his? - name?"

"Feuilly." Lesgle has begun to look sheepish. "I may be entirely mistaken. I know just enough about his trade to know that it's much more complicated than I ever thought. But he does paint. I'll mention to him that you're working here? --That is, if you even want help."

"Oh."

Right, well. Laigle looks him over, and finds it plausible enough in a place with Demeter. Which...raises more questions than it settles, come to think of it. "Which one?"

"It would cut down the time it takes to complete", he says easily, "if he feels able to do part of the work. I've never done a whole one alone before - please do send him my way."

"Death," he said, "The horseman, I and God are both so old we have forgotten who is older. Probably not the Death of tour world, though."

"So I've heard! It was that way for you, wasn't it? But you know, I've also heard from many others that they've been able to take back all sorts of equipment with them, and of course some say even people-- if anything, it's surprising Milliways hasn't more clearly influenced more stories!" He laughs a little self-consciously. "But then I'm not really the one to speak about stories, I suppose. There could be all manner of tales that make note of strange outsiders-- well, come to think of it, there are, aren't there?"

"I have," Eric agrees. "And Lector may never be the wiser for it. I do not think that Buffy will wear her cross. She just likes that sort of thing. And the supernatural connotations."

At the mention of the other gift, his eyebrow moves up.
"The story wasn't to your liking? "

"It seems somehow unlikely." He's not sure why it seems unlikely, but--having met his own death, surely he'd recognize her (it, him) despite not remembering the encounter.

Lesgle finishes his coffee, quickly (though not so quickly as to be rude).

"It was a guidebook to somewhere I won't be able to visit. For once there was someone working at the library--I had no idea we had a staff!--who assured me that they accepted donations there. More dignified than dropping it on a table and sneaking away, no?"

"I did not know that," Eric replies. "And I have been there often enough."

"Indeed! Angels dropping in with unwanted judgments, gods and fairy godmothers, ghosts--"

Well. Bossuet smiles ruefully. "Ghosts."

"Huh, when I was Bound here I worked in the forge but doing this wouldn't have required as much training. Yes, please."

"I'll let him know. --And while I'm here, is there anything I can bring you?"

"Hm." He thinks about it, leaning back and stretching. "I think I'd like a hot chocolate - and bring something for yourself."

Edited 2015-01-13 21:23 (UTC)

Lesgle tries and fails to picture Eric in the library.

"Mademoiselle Ava, Angel of the Library, had a stamp and everything."

Eric reads!
A lot!

"Hmm. Is she pretty?"
The most pertinent question. Always.

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