(no subject)

[never_promised]

Still no Door home. It's getting to be less of a painful disappointment, the blank wall every time he comes into the main room, but Harry's still not happy about it.

Today he takes in the festive décor with a sleepy shrug, and orders breakfast. Eggs. Smoked red herring. Small beer. No, wait, not that, some of that hot chocolate. He's still yawning and shuffling along as he sips his chocolate, and doesn't even notice the small man at the bar until he passes him. Or tries to pass him, and finds himself--impeded.


((A joint EP for the now-connected Hal and Moriarty. Go ahead and bother them, either or both!))

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

Jim, for his part, is very aware of everyone around him, but you wouldn't know it from looking at him. The door reappeared for him in the middle of the night - which was lucky, because he wouldn't want to be surprised into coming here in a good suit - so he'd wandered in in a pair of pyjama trousers and a white T-shirt.

It's for Reasons, OK? It's not what he'd normally wear to bed.

And then, just as he's raising a cup of coffee to his lips, his wrist jerks and said coffee spills all the way down his arm.



...OK. Even he wasn't expecting that.

'Uh. Hi?'

Handcuffs. Right.

[never_promised]

Manacles. Right.

Wait, no, there's nothing right about that. Hal is jerked into full awakeness, first enough for a hasty automatic your pardon as he sets down his own hot drink and tries to sort out the unexpected tangle and spill and stranger and--

He stares down at the man. "What game is this?"

[just_cant_lose]

'It's not your game?'

He smiles uneasily, mopping his arm with a messy handful of paper napkins, slipping deeper into the persona he's been adopting here. So many jokes come to mind, but 'Jim' - the Jim he's been pretending to be - would probably be a bit thrown at first.

Not that he isn't. But it's less omg handcuffs, and more that he knows he didn't put them on, and he knows this guy didn't either. Unless he's really good.

'I didn't do it.'

[never_promised]

He stifles the first impatient response that comes to mind. Not kingly! And we're kings now, Hal! "Ah--heh, nor I. 'Tis not my fashion of hunting, nor--cry you mercy--are you my style of game."

He'd argue about it more, but over at a nearby table some people are having a remarkably similar conversation, and now again at the other end of the bar there's a sudden burst of cursing and accusation. "--The game, I think, is Dame Bar's. Ho, my lady! We have laughed at your jest" --(no they haven't)-- "and now may we be free?"

[just_cant_lose]

Jim raises his eyebrows as high as they can go - which is pretty darn high - and mutters, pointedly, 'well, that's rude.' But FINE.

Internally, he's placing the accent the bar's translator is providing. He's ready to say English, with some Welsh influence, and...French? But it's archaic and God knows what gets lost in translation here. So annoying.

The mode is something different, though. Cry you mercy. Hmmm.

'And while you're at it, can I get a bathrobe, please? Thank you.'

His own accent is English. He looks messy, sleep-rumpled, and his hair is all over the place. He's also jangling the cuffs uneasily, like he's never seen anything like them before.

[never_promised]

His new partner is likewise sleepy and rumpled, and studying the handcuff as if it's entirely unfamiliar. In fact, he's preoccupied enough with it not to be studying Jim at all. Whatever the mechanism is, it looks far fussier than anything he's ever seen, but the material seems to be nothing more complicated than metal.

"Well, I am no great pick-lock, but a file will serve. Dame Bar? Dame Bar, good my lady, a file?"

...she produces an emery board, and gets a narrow-eyed glare from Hal in response.

[just_cant_lose]

He snorts ungainly laughter, and shakes out the robe Bar provides. It's towelling, and striped, and he wants to cry with laughter. He can only get one half of it on due to the handcuffs, but whatever.

'An Englishman in a dressing gown, in the Bar at the End of the Universe. You couldn't write it, eh?'

God, he shouldn't have gone out last night.

'OK, file it. But not with...I mean, obviously not with that. I was told there's a forge here, if she won't give us one? And maybe, uh, y'know...names?'

Maybe? This guy is very tall, and very stately, and very imposing, blah blah et cetera, and Jim is none of those things and probably doesn't deserve an introduction, ISN'T THIS FUN.

(He could unpick handcuffs with a splinter off a chair leg, but there's no entertainment value in that.)

[freedom_is_grey]

"Um."

It's the cuffs that catch her attention first -- okay, second, after she sees the faces of men she already knows.

To some extent 'knows', anyway.

"Is this a new sort of party game Milliways has decided to introduce? It looks -- awkward."

[never_promised]

Oh, great. Hal grimaces at her, and decides that it's beneath his dignity to try to hide the (useless) file and lockpicks. "You should be more gallant to my new companion, Ysalwen! The hours will pass lightly thus, I am sure. This is...Jim. Have you met?"

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen smiles at him, bright and cheerful. She smiles at Jim, too.

"Jim from -- I.T, wasn't it? With the computers."

She's got a good memory, this one.

"It's been awhile. Are you -- learning how to use lockpicks in the most difficult way possible? It's a choice, certainly, but. Um. No one I know that can pick locks would recommend it."

Not even Zevran.

[just_cant_lose]

'Yeah. Yeah...sorry, hi.'

Oh dear, and him in half a bathrobe and pyjamas. How embarrassing.

He glances at Harry.

'I don't know anything about lockpicks, I was just drinking coffee. Harry seems to be on the right track though.'

Lol.

[freedom_is_grey]

"Well, a track, certainly."

She's not judging!

Well.

Maybe a little.

"Shall I leave you to it? Or keep at least one of you company while the other goes to work?"

[never_promised]

"Nay, Harry hath lost his track altogether." He runs his fingers through his hair with another grimace. "But you have some powers at your command, Lady Ysalwen, have you not?"

It's almost a request for help!

[harryhotspur]

Hey, it's Harry Percy! Isn't that just who Hal wants to see right now?

"O, good--" ...why is he shackled to that small man. "--day?"

[never_promised]

"O, Percy!" Yes, sure, just who Hal wanted to see! "Do thou meet my newest companion-in-arms."

Heheh, see, he lifts up their joined wrists. COMPANION IN ARMS. Come on, it's pretty good. "This is Jim, our fellow countryman."

[just_cant_lose]

Well done, Harry. You are very clever.

'...hi?'

This is a very embarrassing situation, and Jim is very embarrassed about it, and now there are two impressive-looking men around him - impressive in different ways, of course - and he is juuuuust a touch flustered.

'Yeah, I'm Jim.'

(Percy? Ohhhh, this only gets better.)

[harryhotspur]

Harry is still openly staring at the whole--situation.

"And didst decide 'twas not enough to be bound in mind and heart to thy subjects, but you must be bound in body, too?"

[never_promised]

"'Tis Dame Bar's notion, and none of ours. But thou'rt in luck, Percy! Hadst been here sooner, it might be thee instead of Jim here. --We have been breaking our fasts with scottish aquavitae; wilt thou join us?"

He beams and leans confidingly close to Jim. "Percy is a very devil when let loose with the scotch."

[just_cant_lose]

'Is he?' he mutters back, the master of discretion.

'Yeah, you should come and have one. Definitely.'

He has to see this.

[clayforthedevil]

If Bahorel has to be handcuffed--as apparently, he has to be, all efforts at picking the lock and breaking the cuffs having been unavailing-- at least it's to a fellow early riser, so he doesn't have to sit around waiting while they come to full consciousness.

(He's also cuffed to a dear friend, which some might consider a benefit, but it annoys Bahorel more. He likes to choose how he's going to aggravate dear friends, thanks all the same, Bar.)

So he can be down in the Bar in time to see the King of England likewise handcuffed against his will, to...someone who probably doesn't deserve it, sorry, unknown person with the regrettable clothing! But Bahorel and Hal can still definitely laugh at each others' discomfort. Here, Bahorel will start!

"And how long have you been waiting on Madame Bar's sense of humor?" Also hi, Hal.

[never_promised]

Oh. Hi, Bahorel.

And...hi, Percy's small French friend. Who seems to be trying to hide behind Bahorel, while becoming very absorbed in a poster on the wall.

"Well met, well met! Let us all be good companions now: this is Jim, of England. These are Frenchmen, Jim, but we can forgive them for it. Bahorel and--good Feuilly, is't not? Thou hast met Percy, Jim, and now thou shalt meet his dear friends. He is partial to the French, it seems."

Maybe the number of empty glasses at their elbows answers Bahorel's question, as none of the above seems to.

[clayforthedevil]

"It's true, Harry's proven himself quite the international diplomat." If you consider starting brawls a form of diplomacy, maybe. Which Bahorel does, so hey! " But come, when have I said anything against the English? Your cooking and clothing and climate, certainly, but that's another matter; I respect the endurance of your people, to survive them all." There has to be a little international taunting, after all. Still it's true, Bahorel has little enough against the English people. And royalty is royalty, and everyone has to endure it. But that's very unlikely to be Jim's fault. Bahorel lifts a suddenly-appearing mug in greeting. "You look to be an Englishman from another era; perhaps your world is different."

[just_cant_lose]

Jim smiles openly. The muscles of his face are a little slack from drink it would seem, and his eyes are ever so slightly unfocused.

'Hi. Hi, good to meet you, yeah. I'm from 2010.'

Ahhhhh, the French. He has been looking forward to meeting this lot. The big one looks fun, and the little one looks interesting. Hiding from Harry even though he hasn't met him before? And he must know that it's impossible not to be noticed in this situation, so there can't be any genuine bad blood or he would have objected to coming over at all. There's no sign of Bahorel actually forcing him, and the man's garrulous personality means that he probably wouldn't. So, awkwardness more than anything. Something of a personal nature?

'Want a drink?'

For the record, Jim is small and unimpressive-looking. Pyjama trousers and a white T-shirt, half a striped bathrobe, messy hair and tired, drunk eyes. A total nobody - not that these people think anyone's a nobody, but you can't have it all.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Oh, Feuilly has met Harry Monmouth. Once. He's just hoping he didn't make any sort of impression then and won't now.

That said, it's rude to just stand here when Jim-from-England is being friendly--and poor Jim! So he smiles, quick kind sympathy, and lifts his wrist a little to show off his similar predicament. "No, thanks--well--um. If you don't mind--coffee, Madame Bar?"

Yes, just going to...be small and unimpressive-looking himself. It's a lifestyle.


---

And yes, Hal notices you being small and unimpressive, Feuilly. Notices and doesn't really care all that much. "Yes, surely you will join us for something fiercer than coffee--or else more substantial?" He gestures to his own now-empty plate, littered with eggshell. "Break your fasts with us, do us the honor: let me be your host!"

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel looks at his own mug of more-than-hot-chocolate with brief amusement, but grins and says "Sure" to the offer of a drink. Why not? He likes a drink, and another drink.

"Which 2010 do you call your own? Are there superheroes and monsters, dinosaurs wandering the streets, or just one of the dull worlds where people from every country telegraph each other by talking to platforms in space?" Jim doesn't seem drunk enough to miss that that's a joke, but Bahorel's ready to reconsider his evaluation of the situation.