milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

The Luggage (apparently having never left the bar last night) is on the floor by the fireplace with its lid hanging wide open at the hinges. It isn't moving. It actually sounds as though it's snoring quietly.

Ever wonder where it keeps all that stuff?

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She watches it for a bit, then produces another roll cake. This one she leaves on the ground, a bit away.

She settles back on her heels to wait.

It's been gnawing on the leg of a barstool for a minute now, acting uninterested. Now it stalks toward the roll cake.

It circles.

It snaps up the cake and sits on the floor, perhaps quietly enjoying the treat.

Cautiously, she reaches a hand out to pat its lid, prepared to pull back if it tries again to make a meal of her.

"Is it good?" she asks, smiling.

It claps its lid a few times in what seems like an unthreatening manner.

The hand pats it a couple of times. "Do you belong to anyone, Box-chan? Or are you just here by yourself?"

The Luggage shakes a bit in a wet-dog manner as if to say "Pardon me, madam, but I belong only to myself."

This can, however, easily be misinterpreted as, "Why, yes, I could use a friend" or "I belong to that charming bar stool over yonder" or even "The Amish are coming! I can feel it in my left-left-left-left knee!"

When you're a box that doesn't talk your actions are quite open to interpretation.

She hazards a guess that it's a "No, I'm my own box!"

"So you're a wild box, then? I've never met one before. Do you like it here?"

The Luggage spits up a bit of an old bar stool leg that it must have chewed up in the past. It kicks the wood about playfully.

[I'm off to bed soon, sorry! Shall we wrap this up?]

[OOP: Okey-dee.]

She claps. "Well you look like you're enjoy ing yourself..." With a smile, she stands.

The Luggage opens its lid and spits out an old yellow rubber boot.

It looks like a parting gift of sorts.

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