milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

It is Del!

She is in the Bar!

...

And there are monkeys. Purple ones. With umbrellas.

Just cause.

Well, this is an anthropomorphic personification it's easy to identify.

"Would you be Del, by any chance?" Susan asks as she takes a seat nearby.

"NoT By aNy cHaNcE," Del says thoughtfully.

"Good point," Susan concedes, carefully masking her apprehension about this conversation. "I'm Miss Susan."

"WhAt DiD yOu MisS, hmmm?"

"It's what everyone who knows me calls me," Susan says, before realising that she'd forgotten about Lobsang. Oops.

"ArE yOu VeRy SaD, tHen?"

"Should I be?" she asks. Then shakes her head. "Do you know who I am?"

"My AlMoSt gReAt-NiEcE bUt NoT QuItE." Sings it like a sparrow. "ShOuLdN'T yOU bE?"

"Not quite," Susan agrees. "I'm not generally given to sadness, no.

"Meg said you were in need of a governness."

"YeS!" Bright smile. "FoR mY dErRy!"

Susan nods, smiling politely. "Well, I'm a governness, and I'd be happy to take care of her for you."

"Oh! WoUlD yOu? WOUlD yOU ReAllY?" Beams.

Susan tilts her head kindly. "Of course I would. My mother was adopted. I sort of... owe it to her."

"DeRrY wIlL LoVe YoU, Oh, ShE wIlL, ShE wIlL!"

Now she does smile. "I certainly hope so."

"I WilL gEt hEr!" Del flees to her realm, returning with the baby.

Who, incidentally, now has one green eye and one blue eyes.

Susan has a birthmark from where her grandfather slapped her father. She is used to that kind of genetics.

"She's lovely," she says, reaching for the baby.

Del very, very, VERY carefully hands Derry over. "ShE iS tHe MoSt BeAuTiFuL bAbY iN tHe HiStOrY oF BaBiEs." Firmly.

Who is Susan to argue with that? She takes the baby and looks at her critically, as if assessing her progress for her age.

[*kicks AIM* Yes, about nine months. Seven and a half, I think, in my head, because I'm anal that way.]

Del just beams.

Derry stares back at Susan.

"Is she talking yet?" Susan asks.

"SoMeTiMeS hEr BrAiN GiGgLeS?" Del suggests hesitantly.

"Oh. Kay," Susan says, carefully. "Crawling, sitting?"

"ShE cRaWlS a loT. And SiTS bUt SoMeTimEs ShE tIpS."

"That's only to be expected," Susan admits still looking at Derry.

"So, when would you like me to sit with her?" she smiles at Del politely.