http://sir-apropos.livejournal.com/ (
sir-apropos.livejournal.com) wrote in
milliways_bar2005-03-20 01:23 pm
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Sir Apropos of Nothing is in the bar. He is dressed up, tunic and hose and all assorted finery. Where he got them is anyone's guess, but he looks rather good for him. His hand is wrapped firmly around his walking staff, knuckles white. He is looking for Gil. He is Not Pleased.
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"I'm leaving the kitchens."
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"That flaming eggplant of a deity which you choose to refer to as Asar-Suti. I'm quite certain that if I ever see him again, I will manage to destroy the entire bar and since I'm sure that Bernard and the rest of the patrons will be rather upset with me, I'd rather be poor and avoid it than moderately well-payed and stranded at the end of the universe on a patch of scorched earth."
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He has very little temper to speak of and though a cracking cook, isn't too bright in other respects. However, he can spot a man with a grievance when he sees one.
"Actually, I usually call him Sooty," he says thoughtfully. "Asar-Suti is his name - like my real name is Gilbert Whimple and yours is Sir Apropros of Nothing, plus a whole load of other things if you're being formal. I'm sorry if Sooty has upset you. Can you tell me exactly what it was he did?"
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If not, my hand is a lot harder than I thought.
"I'm not one to anger quickly, Gil. You know that. Annoyed, surely. Considering the general level of intelligence present, it's a wonder I don't spend every day with a migraine. But..."
And I still, because if I don't, I'll do something regrettable. Perhaps not as regrettable as the 'scorched earth' I mentioned earlier, but regrettable nonetheless.
"I'm not going over the whole thing, Gil, because if I do I think something unfortunate might happen, but...since he feels as if it's amusing to kick the metaphorical crutches out from under the lame man and I lived with that for long enough already, thank you...I'll just be leaving the kitchens."
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He studies 'Po for a moment or two.
"How can we overcome this problem? I understood that you are unable to leave Milliways, though I may have been misled, and Sooty spends far more time in the Bar proper than he ever does in the kitchen. I'd have thought there's less chance of you seeing him and being annoyed by his continued existence in the kitchen than in the Bar itself."
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My hand tightens on the staff again.
"I'm well aware of lacking tact. I've told you; I ran a bar myself for three years, the best of my life. I've seen more drunken people than can be counted and none of them would have known this 'tact' thing had it jumped up and bit them in the ass. This wasn't a lack of tact.
"This was cruelty. I know cruelty. If there's anything in life that I know well, it's that. I've seen it in many forms and from many faces. I can identify it from a thousand paces."
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He looks levelly at 'Po, his face white where it isn't red. "I really don't want to lose you and I want to help you in any way that I can. I value you, 'Po. I hope you know that."
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Gretchen. Polly. Zedd. Charlie.
I'd thought I would care. I thought that I had reasons now, things to keep me from that white hot apathy, that desperate uncaring that was more deadly than the most passionate hatred. But I hadn't. And I didn't. And I'm more Sir Apropos of Nothing than I am Po right now and I don't think he understands that and there's not way for me to explain.
Because I won't.
"I don't know."
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And I can't talk to him because he sounds like my mother, that same gentle, reasonable tone telling me things that tear and hurt and rip. I remember that floating, I remember that whiteness after the explosion, before the slice from my ear.
I remember my mother, warm and soft and crazy as a loon with destinies for me, but always gentle. Always there until a thundering night.
Blood on her hands. Cold.
"I have to go."
"I ruin everything."
And he hobbles to the front door, opens it, and walks out.
Exit Apropos.
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He covers his face with his apron for a moment then emerges blinking and goes to carry on with his work.
He'll be washing up as well this shift.