milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Well, this is new. And that's OK! New is good. Unexpected is not, particularly, and that's why this particular young man's surprise at finding himself wandering strange corridors has quickly melted to suspicion, and then anger.

He schools himself out of it by the time he finds the stairs. He waits at the bottom of them, perfectly still apart from large, dark eyes that flit over the whole place, taking it all in with no expression on his face. Only the Window gets a second look, and when he's finished his surveillance he walks over to it and stands there, staring in mute wonder, one hand pressed to the glass.

He can investigate the room later. This is more interesting for now.

[OOC: Open all weekend! <3]

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'Why would I work here? I'm ten.'

And even at this age, working in a bar - without an ulterior motive - is beneath him.

'Why, are you looking for a job?'

"I work for a sign-painter," Jeannot says slowly. It's hard not to think that the work here would be better, even if it's just for room and board. "Do you think they'd take someone, though?"

He realizes he's still scratching his head, and folds his hands behind himself again.

'Probably. If you tell them you need the money.'

People help kids out. It's something he uses to his advantage a lot. He isn't going to mention that there's laws to stop kids working too young, because they obviously don't apply to Jeannot or he wouldn't be working in the first place.

'Why don't you just get some food from the bar, and worry about paying for it after?'

That gets him a sardonic look. "Do you want to get arrested here? --Anyway, I'm not hungry."

It's the most perfunctory of lies. "But are your parents from England? Because you're speaking--" Is he speaking Lyonnais French? Jeannot can understand him, but when he thinks about it something feels strange.

Liar liar liar liar liar.

'Why would you get arrested for something the bar's doing for everyone?'

It's only a matter of standing and watching for a few minutes. It couldn't be more obvious. Jeannot's second question earns a frown though, and he moves on to that as the more interesting of the two conversational options.

'My parents are from Ireland. We just live in England at the moment. I'm speaking English.'

"Maybe they have credit. Maybe they pay every week for room and board." Shrug. Anyway, the question of what language they're speaking is more interesting to him too; he frowns at James's claim. "I don't know any English. But I understand you--you sound like you're speaking Lyonnais French. Well--sort of."

He looks over to the fireplace fish again, and then back to the window, and then to the magical bar, and a little slow smile spreads on his face. All right, that's some good magic.

'I don't know any Lyonnaise French. I know some French. Isn't it the same thing?'

If he's about to learn something from another kid, he might just die of shock.

"Yeah, sure, just ask someone from Paris if it's the same thing." But he shrugs and continues more thoughtfully. "It's not as different as what they speak down south. I've heard some Parisians and I could mostly understand what they were saying. But down in--oh, Avignon? I met a group of carpenters from there--that Provençal is all different--"

He breaks off and flushes red. This is too much like showing off knowledge.

Jim doesn't give a damn about someone showing off knowledge. He thinks it's stupid, because there's far more mileage in hiding how clever you are in order to outwit people more effectively. It's great when other people do it, because it proves they're actually idiots.

'I've been to France,' he points out, in a tone with a chilly edge.

'Everyone speaks French, even in the places where there's still some remnants of other stuff. Why are you saying it's different?'

But he has some suspicions. How could he not, looking at this boy who looks like he came out of history, who has a job at age ten, and no shoes, and is dirty. It's a bit mind-blowing to think that this pub alters time, but it's looking like the only logical conclusion. If only he knew how.

Jeannot may have been embarrassed at being caught talking like a knowledgeable person--but he's even more taken aback at having such simple knowledge challenged. His chin goes up and he scowls. "Then you haven't been in the Midi. Or, or Bretagne. In fact--how could you come to France anyway? We're at war. We've been at war for--years."

'We're not at war with France.'

He stares for a while, then narrows his eyes.

'What year is it for you?'

"...1812."

The stubbornness melts out of his face. "What year is it for you?"

'1986.'

He's surprised, but it doesn't show. Or maybe a little in the slight hesitation before he speaks again.

'Well, look around. Lots of people are from different times.'

It's the only thing that makes sense, even if he doesn't get it at all.

Jeannot's surprise does show. 1986? That's the next century. It's...no, he can't do the arithmetic, not even on his fingers, but it's well into the next century.

"What is it like? 1986? Is it..." He hardly knows what to ask. "Is it good?"

James stares at him. That's not a very specific question.

'It's boring.'

What he thinks he probably means is that it's boring being ten in 1986, as it would be boring being ten anywhere. He doesn't yet know that it isn't going to get much better.

'Good compared to what? There's school.'

Something Jeannot doesn't know much about, if he's got a job already.

No, well, he knows it wasn't a very good question, and he's still not sure how to put into words what he wants to know. The things everyone complains about, have they been fixed? "Are there--are there other wars happening? Is bread very cheap? Are there--are there republicans or kings or--?"

Of course there's school for people like Jim, with his clean clothes and his shoes. There's always school for people like that.

There's school for everyone, and it's so much the norm that James would never think to mention it. He contemplates the questions instead. He knows a bit about the world because his parents watch the news and talk about things, and James reads everything he can get his hands on, including newspapers.

'There was a was in the Falklands three years ago. It wasn't very long, and we won. A big loaf of bread is about 30p. And there's a Queen in England, but not in Ireland. Not in the bit of it I came from.'

But Jeannot is probably more interested in France. James considers what he knows about it, and finds it isn't much.

'There's no royalty in France though. There was a Revolution.'

"Thirty!"

But maybe their money is different; he's heard about money changing in the revolution. Which, yes obviously he knows about. Unless Jim's talking about something else. "--In '89, sure. You mean another one?"

'...yeah. Thirty pence.'

It doesn't sound like a lot to him, but he knows very little about exchange rates. At the question, he shrugs.

'Think so. You tell me. If there's a queen or king in 1812, there must be another one to get rid of them. Or something like it.'

"Napoleon is emperor, not king." But what is the difference? He needs to find that out, doesn't he; but who is there to ask? "So--so, yeah. That makes sense, another revolution."

He wraps his arms around himself, and studies James. "What do you learn in school?" The question comes out abruptly.

He's heard of Napoleon! History isn't really his thing, but the name comes up in so many contexts it's hard not to know it.

'Boring stuff. Reading, and science, and maths, and music, and drama, and history, and geography, and P.E, and religion, and-'

It's all so blindingly simple he wants to pummel his teacher's faces in in frustration. School is a touchy subject for James these days.

'-it's pointless. Don't you go to school at all?'

"No." He considers asking what P.E. is, but apparently it's pointless, so. "What about--isn't there Latin and Greek?"

Everyone keeps saying that Latin and Greek are an essential part of schooling: say it derisively, or resignedly, or--sometimes--angrily, like shouting at a solid stone wall.

'Only in secondary school, and only in a few of them. The schools you have to pay for.'

He'll be going to one of them. State schools are not currently doing him any good, and he'll go insane if he has to be held back much longer.

'Maybe not Greek,' he adds, a moment later. 'Latin gets taught more in Ireland, but it's no use to anyone anymore. Most schools do French or German or Italian.'

He's going to assume that the schools you have to pay for just means the schools you have to pay a whole lot extra for. But anyway, that's interesting, about the Latin, and Jeannot tucks it away to think about. "Why German and Italian?"

The utility of French seems obvious.

((Aaah sorry I didn't see the notification for your reply!))

James replies with more patience than he feels. He's been making a study of responses to perceived helpfulness, when he can be bothered to remember.

'Because we're all in Europe, and there's lots of cooperation. Most people can speak English at some level, but we should learn too.'

He is interested in languages. It seems obvious that being fluent enough to pass as a native would be useful - and anyway, who wants to go anywhere with TOURIST practically tattooed on their forehead?

[OOC: No prob at all! :D]