EP - tiny!Emcee

[i_am_your_host]

The door works in the strangest of ways.

So when a certain someone is holed up in his room, his younger self, his much, much younger self, enters the bar.

Small and pale and undernourished, the elfin ten-year-old boy (who could be mistaken for even younger than that) is dressed in secondhand school clothes from a distant era: knickerbockers and knee socks, a cardigan and cloth cap. He stares at his surroundings with large brown doe eyes.

Has he been here before? Perhaps in a dream? Why does it feel so familiar, when the door shouldn't have led here at all?

But this is a pub, and the little boy knows pubs. He goes up to the counter, peeking over it on tiptoes, to look for the barman. But there is none. How odd.

Even odder is the glass of milk and the plate of cookies that suddenly appear out of thin air.

This must be a dream.

Comments

[cottoncandypink]

The same someone can be heard saying "Fuck!" quite loudly from across the room as the dog quickly devours the biscuit from the floor. It's gone by the time the man with the pink handlebar moustache can get there in time. So he settles for glaring down at the dog instead.

Buster doesn't even have the decency to look guilty. He knows what he's done, and he's pleased with the outcome.

"He'll never leave you alone now," Wilford warns the boy. "As long as you live, he'll be bothering you for more."

Buster wags his tail happily.

[i_am_your_host]

A couple of things:

1) The man is speaking sternly in English at him. He knows it's English, but he's understanding it in German. This is very strange.

2) The man has a pink mustache. Is he a clown? He's too angry to be a clown.

The boy processes these things in silence while pressed back against the bar, the rest of the cookie still in his hand.

"He seems like a nice dog, so I thought he would like a treat," he says politely (in German). "I don't mind if he bothers me, but I won't feed him anymore if that is what you prefer, sir."

[cottoncandypink]

Why are all the kids around here so well-mannered? It's creepy.

Wilford might not think the kid was so well-mannered if he knew about the clown comment, but maybe it's good that he doesn't.

"He'll puke on your shoes if you feed him too much. I don't think anybody likes that."

If he's being stern, he doesn't notice it. He's just sick of getting chewed out over his dog being here and making messes. Buster still doesn't seem to care. There's more cookie in sight, and that is all he cares about.

"This some sort of cosplay thing?" Wilford asks, noticing what the boy's wearing.

[i_am_your_host]

The boy has learned the art of tact at a very young age, thus the clown comment goes unsaid.

"Then I wouldn't want your dog to become ill," he says reasonably. The boy is also very reasonable for his age.

Sorry, doge.

He blinks up at the man.

"What is cosplay?"

[cottoncandypink]

Buster is still silently pestering the boy, so he gets dragged out of the way before he gets impatient enough to steal the cookie right out of his hand. There's some complaining from the dog, but then he sits with his back toward both of them.

"It's when you dress up in a costume for no reason."

Under his leather jacket, Wilford is wearing a t-shirt, and some well-worn bluejeans. His shoes might seem a bit unusual as well, for someone who's never seen a skateboard in their life.

[i_am_your_host]

The boy watches the man drag the dog aside, and decides then that he should eat the cookie to remove the temptation. Or at least some of it.

"I am not wearing a costume, sir," he says a bit humbly. These are the nicest clothes he's ever worn in his life. All the ladies chipped in to buy them for him.

"Are you?" he adds.

His sass is disguised by his innocence.

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford makes an incredulous noise. "No."

For a moment, he thinks about going to fetch his drink, but then he decides against it. It would mean leaving the dog here again, unguarded with more cookies nearby, so he chooses to sit at the bar instead and flag down a waitrat to go fetch his drink for him.

"What year is it, then?"

[ooc: I need to go do some shopping real quick. Should be back within the next half hour or so.]

[i_am_your_host]

The boy climbs up onto a bar stool so he can better get to his milk and cookies.

He then pauses in thought at the man's question. He considers the last newspaper one of the ladies read to him.

"It is 1910, of course."

Isn't it?

[cottoncandypink]

"Of course," Wilford says, with maybe a touch of sarcasm.

Mostly, it just makes him think. He knows someone else from around then, and time can be extra stupid around here. Just maybe he should behave himself, lest that someone else suddenly remembers the annoying prick with the pink moustache who went out of his way to make things difficult.

"You probably don't want to go assuming stuff like that around here though. Not as a general rule anyway.

The rat returns with his coffee, keeping a wide berth from the dog as it drops off Wilford's drink. Wilford watches the rat, and then the dog that's stubbornly ignoring him.

"You can pet him. He doesn't bite. Just make sure to shove that cookie in your mouth first."

[i_am_your_host]

"But that's what the newspaper said," the boy insists, though now he's unsure. He can't read yet.

He looks over at the dog. Also unsure.

"I don't think he wants to be petted."

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford simply points at the window. The kid can probably figure out on his own that something's not quite right about this place from that alone.

"Dog always wants to be petted. He's just being an asshole right now."

Buster's tail might be wagging, just a little bit.

[i_am_your_host]

The boy munches on another cookie as he turns to look up at the window. And for a moment he stops chewing. Because although he has no idea what he's looking at, it's both beautiful and frightening at the same time. He doesn't take his eyes off it until the man speaks again.

And again, he glances down at the dog.

"What's his name?"

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford wonders if he'll figure out what that means on his own, or if he'll need to be told. He hopes it's the former, because he really sucks at the whole 'helpful stranger' thing.

"Buster," he says.

Again, the dog's tail just a little bit. Even though he's still totally ignoring Wilford.

[i_am_your_host]

"Buster?"

He's still kind of hesitant, but he turns on the stool to better reach the dog, and he holds a hand out, hoping Buster would want to make friends.

"I've never really petted a dog before. Only cats."

[cottoncandypink]

Buster turns his head to sniff at the offered hand. And then he licks it. It tastes like cookies!

"No? Well, this one's friendly. A little too friendly sometimes, if you ask me."

That tail is just whipping around now.

[i_am_your_host]

He makes a surprised noise when the dog licks his fingers, jerking his hand away a little bit. But then he smiles and strokes Buster's head between his ears.

"Can he do tricks?"

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford doesn't understand what people seem to find so intimidating about his dog. It's clearly dumb as a bag of rocks.

"He climbs trees. That's about it."

[i_am_your_host]

He looks up at him.

"He climbs trees?" he repeats, incredulous. And then he giggles, scratching Buster behind his ears. "I've never heard of a dog doing that. He must be very special."

[cottoncandypink]

Buster is loving this attention. He twists his head sideways until he loses balance and falls over.

"Yeah, special's one word for it," Wilford agrees. "You don't have a dog at home?"

[i_am_your_host]

The boy laughs at the dog's silliness. And then he shakes his head at Wilford's question.

"No. There are some alley cats that come to the kitchen door for scraps, but the stray dogs are chased away."

[cottoncandypink]

Another world that does things backwards, apparently. Wilford isn't even surprised anymore.

"Dogs are great to have around, especially at your age. Keep 'em fed, and they'll fuck up anyone who tries to mess with you."

Well, maybe not this dog. Now that he's upside down on the floor, with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, his missing front teeth have become very obvious.

[i_am_your_host]

He looks doubtful.

"Mama Lily won't allow it. A dog might spread fleas."

A whorehouse with fleas will ruin her business.

[cottoncandypink]

Yeah, probably.

"Cats get fleas too."

Also, they are cats. But that's another matter entirely.

Wilford watches his dog soak up the attention like the idiot it is, and shakes his head. "Is it just you and your mom, then?"

There's something odd about the way he referred to as this woman, but people might have had two moms even back in then. There are all sorts of things like that, which never make it into the history books.

[i_am_your_host]

"She doesn't let the cats in the house either," he says with a little shrug.

He's starting to see how Buster is too nice. Because eventually he has to stop petting him and turn back to his food, as he's still hungry.

"She's not my mother, but she looks after me. And so do all the other ladies."

[cottoncandypink]

Yeah, Buster has that effect on people. When the boy leaves him, he sits up and whines quietly. Wilford ignores him.

"Other ladies? How many are we talking about?"