milliways_bar | (no subject)

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*Meg skips merrily into the bar.

Yes, she really does. A certain something has put her in a remarkably good mood. Could it be the grungy-looking thoroughly disgruntled man in the tutu over there? Nah.*

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Mouse is doing his best to hang out with happy people. Happy people that aren't Shelley. "Hey."

*Meg looks up and waves cheerfully.* 'lo, Mouse. How're you?

"Not bad. There was a fainting incident earlier, but it's all okay now."

And after considering this for a moment, he adds: "I wasn't the one fainting, by the way."

*Meg, who had been about to give him a sympathetic pat, looks curious.* Oh, really? Who did?

Not that there's anything wrong with fainting, *she adds hastily.* I mean, I really don't faint all that much. And usually I only do it on Andrew. Or Anthy. Or -

"This girl Christine showed up and fainted. Twice. Me and Shelley helped her get back to her opera house."

Almost to himself: "She had a very nice... dress."

*Meg's eyes widen enormously. Taking up half her face? Ohyes.*

- Christine?

Opera house Christine?

The dress, it wasn't a collapsible bodice, was it?

"Collapsible bodice?" Mouse looks confused. "Uh, she said she was a soprano. Lead soprano. If that helps."

*Meg feels like she needs to sit down, and looks it.*

"Uh, are you... okay?" Mouse looks a little worried.

*Not seeing a handy chair . . .

Meg faints.

Look, she's had a stressful few days, all right?*

"Jesus Christ, not another one." Mouse reaches out and catches her. Thankfully, Meg is even smaller than he is.

He attempts to fan her awake. He's... not so good at this.

*Meg remains obstinately fainted for another few seconds.*

Je m'en fou - *she says finally, without opening her eyes.*

Mouse gently shakes her. "Is that French? I don't speak French."

It means basically fuck it all, *Meg translates approximately, and opens her eyes.*

Mouse carefully returns her to standing position. "... because of Christine? Is there, like... a thing that I don't know about?"

*Meg brushes herself off, and shakes her head briskly.* No, no, it's just surprise - she's like my best friend from home, and - it's - agh.

"So it's normal to faint when you hear about your best friend showing up, then?" Mouse seems unconvinced.

I was reminded, *Meg says haughtily,* of the Opera House. Everyone faints there. It's a bad habit.

"Right. Any, uh, particular reason? Or is it just trendy?"

Well, *Meg says patiently,* we tend not to eat, really, and we exercise too much, and we wear tight costumes. Which explains it all, really.

"You know that's crazy, right?" Way to be, Mouse. Way to be.

*Meg looks patient.* And a magic bar run by an ex-bomber isn't?

"I don't think I've met the ex-bomber."

Redheaded, Bernard, speaks French like a native - *clearly thisis, for Meg, the most important qualification.* In charge of most things Barlike. You ought to meet him, I think he wants to meet sort of everyone. Thinks it's his job.

"I'll, uh, look around for him, then."

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