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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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"Ah, I haven't had the good fortune yet to meet any Buffys. But I'll keep an eye out for girls with brown hair and cute noses." He has met a girl about that tall, brown hair, spunky personality (at least, from Milliways' translation of the phrase into French) and a cute nose as it were. But that is an Ava!

"Someone else with a good sense of humor, though, who can take care of herself?"

He's genuinely concerned here.

"I would say yes. At least to the last part."

He smiles.
Demon-girl.

"And she was no friend of Lecter's. She knows about him. And she knows the trinket came from him."

"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 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 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."

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.

"Certainly." He glances sideways at Eric, amused. "About this tall, brown hair. Good sense of humor, cute nose."

Eric returns the amused smile.

"Really?" he says.
"What are the odds?"

Buffy works at the library. With her brown hair and cute nose.
Buffy is a lying cunt named Ava.

"But then - this is Milliways."
Still smiling.

He's conflicted.
He hates being lied to.
But he likes people with balls.

"Indeed."

Ah, damn. Has he made trouble? He hadn't been thinking; now he raises an eyebrow at Eric. "And it's a sensible place for someone to take a nom de guerre, wouldn't you say?"

"I would say it is a sensible place to pick one's battles," Eric replies, blandly.

He could be referring to Leigle. He could be referring to Buffy /Ava. He could even be referring to himself.
Who can tell?

"Oh, quite," he answers just as blandly. He's not interested in tangling with vampires, not in the slightest. But he'll have to tell Ava about this.

And maybe ask her about it too. He shakes his head and laughs.

"Did I say something amusing?" Eric asks.
Pleasantly.

"Oh, no. But you don't find it entertaining? At least a bit? All these clever good-humored girls with brown hair?"

"Oh yes. We are practically swimming in them," Eric purrs.

"It keeps life interesting. Or death." He spreads his hands and shrugs: what can you do? "Do you know who else was afflicted with Lecter's holiday sense?"

"Have I come across others? Hmm, I'm not sure."

Lesgle nods, not really expecting anything. "I was just wondering how many more people are wanting to stuff necklaces down his throat, et cetera. Happy Christmas."

"I'm sure we will be able to find room for everyone," Eric says. Smiling again.

It is a nice thought.

"People can form a line."

Ah, well. Again, he probably shouldn't be cheerfully encouraging violence towards a patron while he's on duty. Lesgle sighs, and gives Eric a little bow. "I should probably return to my work."

"We could sell tickets," Eric mutters.
"For the ones too squeamish to take matters into their own hands."

The small bow gets an eyebrow movement in return.
Eric doesn't do bows,

Eric would turn a nice profit from selling tickets, surely.

...Oh dear, Lesgle thinks to himself, though, as he gets back to busing tables. He'll certainly have to give Ava a warning.

{ooc: ahaha, perfect}

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