milliways_bar | (no subject)

"This bar would seem to have far too many names, and none of them that of the establishment I entered."

I'm afraid that happens around here, Mr. Crane.

You get used to it.

"I hope I won't have to. I hope I'll wake up in a moment."

You're not dreaming, Monsieur Crane, *Meg says, patiently, and pokes him to prove it.*

Ichabod squeaks.

*patiently* Meg, don't poke the Constable.

*Meg looks sulky.* Why not?

Because he's clearly having a difficult day. And he's new here.

"Difficult," he says, fervently, "doesn't even begin to describe it."

You'll get used to it, *Meg says airily.*

Really. Don't try to figure it out. It'll just give you a headache.

"Not today, I'm afraid."

He smiles, slightly, and departs.

*Meg blinks at Andrew.*

Well. That was bizarre. I wonder if he knows another one of my relatives?

*Andrew has begun to make that odd snorting sound that means he's suppressing a laugh.*

I'll explain later...

*Meg eyes him suspiciously.*

I did meet someone yesterday who we decided was probably a great-great-great-great-great-great-grand-niece-cousin-thing.

Oh? Who?

Violet. Invisible girl. The Flash said she wants ballet lessons, *Meg explains cheerfully.

Only at Milliways.

She adds, rather thoughtfully,* I'm a bit worried - we started talking about the resemblance and relations and things, and she got all, 'I want to be exactly like you,' which probably isn't healthy for her.

*a bit carefully* ...how did she want to be like you?

In every way, I think, *Meg says, a bit glumly.* I warned her about the eating thing, and she said no, she ate lots, so that's good, but otherwise -

*brightly* -- well, maybe you can teach her to dance, and she can teach you to eat ice cream.

I do eat ice cream, *Meg says, a trifle indignantly.* And I had a whole - quarter of a thingy yesterday.

Oh? *curiously* What kind?

It wasn't ice cream, *Meg explains,* it was something Mexicanish. Roland bought it for me. Before the conversation went to doomish things.

*Her tone has gone from actually light, to deliberately light.*

Doomish things, huh?

The usual kind, or something special?

The usual hot-button topics, *Meg says, dismissively.* Possession, messing with people's heads, changing the past . . .