milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

"Ma?"

He walks in, blinking around, a little confused. A small enough child, lame leg trailing behind him as he turns his head this way and that, obviously looking for someone. The cane in his hands is clutched tightly.

"Ma? Ma? Mister Stroker sir? Ma?"

He's starting to think this isn't home.

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"Most of the people here are very nice and obey the rules. The ones that aren't, well, they go to prison, or they meet me, and they usually learn their lesson. If they don't, they stay in the cells for a good long time."

"Oh."

And he guesses that makes sense.

"Yeah. so. Hungry? Thirsty? We've got absolutely everything you could want." Faith grins. "Promise."

"Food?"

Faith nods. "Sure. Food, drinks, we've even got rooms upstairs if you want to stay a while."

He nods, a little sour.

"I figured so. It's an inn, isn't it? It looks like one. I live in an inn. I know what they're like. But...those things cost money. I don't have money. And innkeepers eventually get cranky about things like that."

"Don't worry about the money," says Faith. "Order what you like, and we'll keep a tab, and you don't have to pay until you can afford to."

He continues to look sour.

"Hm...don't have money now and that's not going to change much."

"Ehhh, well, then let me buy you something," Faith suggests. "I've got plenty."

He looks her up and down.

"How'd you do that? Are you married to a rich man?"

Faith laughs, shaking her head. "No, I'm not married. I inherited some money. From...a friend. He didn't have any children, so when he died, he left me his money. Besides, I told you I work here."

He nods.

"Well, I remember you said you work here but my Ma works at the bar at home and I know that she doesn't make that much money so I was curious, though you can tell me to shut up if you want."

"Curiosity isn't bad. and I'm not gonna tell you to shut up." Faith grins. "So. You gonna eat something?"

He shrugs.

"I dunno. You gonna get me something to eat?"

Faith pulls a face at him. Because...well, because she's Faith.

"I dunno. You gonna tell me what you like?"

"I told you. I like food."

Because at Stroker's, it's not so much what to eat as 'what's left'.

Faith grins slightly. "Food, huh? I think we can manage that."

She offers him her hand. "C'mon. I'll introduce you to Bar."

He hobbles behind her.

"You say that like it's a name."

"It is." Faith leads him to Bar, smiling, and puts a hand on the wood. "Bar, baby, this is Apropos. Think we can get him a burger and fries, on me?"

Faith is a big believer in hamburgers. She's convinced that they're proof of the superiority of modern society.

He staaaaaaaaaaares as it appears.

"The Bar's a weaver?"

"Weaver?"

Faith blinks.

"Well...she did give me clothes once..."

He blinks.

"No. A weaver. Somebody who does magic."

He stares at the Bar.

"Or something, I guess."

"Oh. Yeah, she's magic," Faith says, stroking the bar lightly. "Wicked sense of humor, too."

She considers adding something to the effect that she suspects he and Bar got on quite well, but decides against it.

"Seems kinda wooden to me."

A grin to her.

Faith groans, covering her eyes, but Bar must have found it amusing; there is now a plate of cookies next to the burger.

Faith snorts. "Great. Encourage him. That's a good plan."