milliways_bar | (no subject)

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*Meg wanders downstairs and into the bar, coffee mug in hand and tutu around her waist. And everyone subsequently dies of shock.*

*Meg pats his shoulder kindly.* I can't expect you to understand. It's all right, you can't help it.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Because I'm British?"

Because, *Meg says cheerfully,* you're not French.

"So...would 'Ala understand?"

*Meg considers this solemnly.*

I don't know. He may have been brainwashed.

"He's still fairly French, you know."

I'd have to consult with him on the subject, *Meg says soberly,* in order to really judge.

"Be my guest. If he'd talk to someone else apart from me I'd kiss their feet."

He talks to me on occasion, *Meg protests.* When he comes downstairs.

- which hasn't been in a while, come to think of it . . .

"Exactly" Mordred runs his hand through his hair.

Does he just - not want to come down?

"I don't know. He just doesn't."

At least he still talks to you just as much, doesn't he?

"Yes, he still does that. But I'd feel slightly childish ordering him downstairs."

Well, true. Maybe you could coax him down? Lure him with chocolate or something?

Mordred blinks.

"Chocolate?"

Or, you know, something tasty, *Meg elaborates further.*

He's still staring at her.

"I..."

*Meg blinks.* What?

He flushes.

"The only thing I know will tempt him down are books."

Well, use those, then, *Meg says reasonably.*

"How? I leave a book trail leading from our room to downstairs? That's no way to treat books, Meg, they're precious."

Hold the book in front of him, *Meg says cheerfully,* and then flicker it out of his reach so he has to follow.

The whole enormity of the idea crashes down.

So he begins to laugh.

"Meg! The other idea is to get him to talk to other people, not to me!"

Well, *Meg explains patiently,* then you pass the book off to other people and disappear! Like a scavenger hunt, sort of thing.