milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

George wanders out of the staff quarters, a number of rolled up scrolls tucked absentmindedly under one arm. He pauses by the bar and considers ordering something to eat. After a few moments deliberation, he decides that he isn't hungry after all. He simply orders a glass of wine, which he takes to an empty table.

He opens one of the scrolls, and begins reading the contents. Well, attempting to read them. He's restless tonight, and can't really concentrate.

[[ooc: bored and restless. Feel free to say hi.]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's an Alex at a table not too far away, reading a book with a bowl of soup sitting in front of him.

He may or may not know George is there.

George glances around the bar, searching for distraction in the form of a familiar face.

Recognizing Alex, he chastises his sub-conscious for not being specific enough to look for familiar friendly faces.

He's not feeling antagonistic tonight, so he debates drawing attention to himself..

Nobody ever said Alex was unfriendly...

He turns the page in his book, and light flashes off a gold ring on his index finger. That's new.

George decides to risk it.

"Evening, Alex."

He looks up and smiles. If it's a little cautious, that's to be expected really; George is Alanna's friend, after all, not Alex's.

"Good evening, Rogue."

It's said as a title, not an epithet.

Interesting.

He's cautious himself.

"What are you reading?" he asks, curious - admittedly, there are more creative ways to break the ice but he's figuring it's a safe enough question.

He holds up the paperback; it's a faded copy of Nancy Springer's The White Hart.

"I asked Bar for a book, and she gave me this; it's... interesting. The world's a little like ours, with magic and the like."

George nods. "Reading a book from another world seems fitting somehow, considering our new location.."

"It's not a bad book, really."

He closes the book and looks at George.

"How have you been? Were you here for that... nightmare incident?"

"I've been keeping busy." he answers honestly. "I divide the bulk of my time these days between tending bar here, and Jon's court."

He shrugs, deliberately not going into detail what kind of work he's doing for Jon. Instead he answers the second question. "Thank Mithros and the Crooked God, no - I missed the incident."

"I seem to recall hearing you weren't so lucky?"

"I didn't exactly escape unscathed, no. Though apparently I was luckier than some, which I'm grateful for. I gave Nick enough of a scare as it was."

Damn. He hadn't meant to mention Nick.

"Nick?" George repeats the name casually.

His eyes glance quickly down to the ring on Alex's hand and back again, although his expression doesn't change in the slightest.

The ring is a plain gold band on Alex's index finger, not the sort of ring one would associate with any particular attachment.

"A -- friend of mine. He worries about me."

George judges the situation, and decides it's best - for the moment at least - not to pry.

"Ah yes. Friends are very important." He smiles as he says this, no trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"Alanna and I have sorted things out between us, by the way. We're friends again, which is something I'm incredibly thankful for."

He's not sure why he's telling George that.

"Yes, Alanna mentioned that to me. I note you're calling her Alanna now, not Alan. That's a nice change."

Changing the subject slightly, Goegre continues. "I hear you had some fun with a tutu the other night. Coming to Thom's rescue to save him from the femine wiles of Alanna and Meg. Knowing Thom, I can just imagine the fuss." He laughs.

"Rumours tell that you rescued him. You kissed Meg - and when that failed, you kissed Alanna..

"What can I say, my mind is fucked-up. Some days she's still Alan to me. I'm working on it."

He shrugs.

"Yeah, well, you use what weapons you have, and I wasn't about to go stabbing them, was I? I've got no interest in Alanna or Meg, lovely as they both are."

"Indeed. One should always use whatever weapons are at one's disposal.." George agrees.

"It was kind of weird, though. I mean, it's Alanna. I grew up with her, I don't exactly want to kiss her."

Thinking back to the number of times he's kissed Alanna, George ever the diplomat, says nothing.

"To each their own.." he says, nodding.

A slight laugh.

"You see it differently, clearly. But you didn't know her as Alan for eight years."

"This is true. I knew her secret from the beginning, so she was never Alan to me... I can imagine it's far more difficult to accept for those who knew her as a boy."

"S'not so much that it's difficult to accept as it's still a little odd to think of her as anything but the squire I grew up with. I didn't want to kiss Alan, and I don't particularly want to be anything but friends with Alanna."

George opens his mouth to comment, and instead finds himself yawning. He decides it might be time to seek his bed.

"I'd best be heading to bed. It's been a long day.." He offers a hand to Alex. "Truce?"

He shakes George's hand.

"Truce. Now go, sleep. You look half-dead."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only