milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Pre-Milliways

The man entering Milliways might be familiar to some of you.

Possibly.

Anyone know Nick Knight?

Yeah. Except bloody, with a knife in his teeth.

Whoops?

Simon Grady is not Nick, but only he knows that, right now.

~~Aheheheh.~~

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He blinks.

"You're not quite right, are you?"

Politely: "I'm sorry?"

"You're a funny kid. You also strike me as fucking mental, so I won't expect you to make much sense."

"Oh." Anthy smiles cheerfully and looks down at her tea. "Of course."

At least she isn't claiming to be in the Man in the Moon's body!

Clearly Anthy does not understand the finer points of sarcasm.

"What is this place?"

Anthy and sarcasm have a very special relationship. It's not the kind advice columnists suggest.

"Milliways." Helpfully, she adds, "The bar at the end of the universe.

"Right."

Yup, she's insane. IZON apparently like the insane ones.

"Look out the windows," Anthy suggests, and taps the glass to change the view from the lake to the stars exploding and pretend she did something else if that contradicts millicanon.

Simon blinks at the exploding stars, tilting his head.

"Huh."

Anthy smiles cheerfully and taps the window again. Nice lake.

"The fried paradoxes are excellent."

"I'm sure they are, miss."

That could be sarcasm, or not. It's hard to tell.

Anthy feels very put-upon. She may well be insane, but everyone says the fried paradoxes are excellent.

It is very tragic.

She goes back to sipping her tea, with a quiet look of . . . put-upon-ness.

He never said they weren't excellent...

"I'm Simon. Simon Grady."

That logic is beyond Anthy's grasp.

"I'm Anthy Himemiya." Cheerfully: "Pleased to meet you."

"I'll reserve my judgement on whether the pleasure's mutual," he mutters.

What? Simon is a bastard.

"What's a kid your age doing in a bar, anyway?"

Anthy looks injured. Well, no, she probably just smiles.

"I was a waitress . . ." she begins.

Waitressing is somewhat normal for someone Anthy's age. He can deal with that.

"Fair enough."

"I'm glad you approve."

Advice columnists around the globe shake their heads sadly.

"Nothing wrong with waitressing. It's a damn sight safer for you than, say, weapons manufacture."

Simon appears to be calming down. Whee.

"I do that too," Anthy says doubtfully. "Sort of . . ."

He narrows his eyes.

"You don't work for IZON, do you?"

Anthy ~~looks shifty~~ blinks.

"What's IZON?"

"I'll take that as a no..."

He relaxes somewhat.

"Pray that you never meet the sons of bitches who work for IZON, little girl."

"All right," Anthy says agreeably, though she still looks confused. "Why? Who are they?"

"A weapons manufacturer. Not a very nice bunch of fuckers, either."