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 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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