milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

*Petunia's in the bar. Feeling less comfortable with the weirdness for some reason, she heads for a more secluded table*

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Tiffany notices Petunia, mostly because her table is secluded. Tiffany watches these things. She watches Petunia for a moment, sizing her up for fairydom.

*Petunia is entirely, utterly normal. Not that she'd mind otherwise, but not that she'd admit to that, either*

Sometimes you can't tell, with fairies. They're sneaky bastards.

Tiffany wanders by, frying pan in hand, staring openly at Petunia.

*Petunia doesn't notice, unfortunately. She's rather focused on the knitting that the mun forgot to mention earlier*

Oh, well, knitting is a very attention-consuming occupation. Tiffany tilts her head, wondering what Petunia is knitting and whether she got the wool from Tiffany's farm.

*it's a blue sweater, and for all Petunia knows it just might be. She got the yarn from Bar*

Upon closer inspection it appears to be, if not from Tiffany's farm, then at least from some Lancastrian strain - Tiffany approves. It's good to be approved of by a witch with a frying pan.

*the mun is uncertain if Petunia would be happy to know this. On the one hand, she doesn't seek out the approval of witches. On the other, she knows enough to avoid annoying the many powerful bar patrons*

Tiffany isn't very powerful yet. ~~But she will be. Muahahaha!~~

*But Petunia doesn't know that. Also, frying pan*

Frying pans are very persuasive.

*indeed they are. Even Petunia knows how to weild one*

Tiffany is, perhaps, noting that Petunia, while otherwise thin, has the arm for the art of wielding a frying pan.

Or not.

*decent arms, yes. General housekeeping, obsessive clenliness and cooking lots of meals(considering her overweight husband and son), this is an acceptable claim*

~~Perhaps Tiffany should seek Petunia's guidance in the sacred Way of the Pan. She has talent.~~

Tiffany wanders off, frying pan and all, satisfied that Petunia is not violent. ~~For now.~~

~~Petunia's no expert, but she can swing when needed~~

A tall, dark, and handsome bard slowly walked towards Petunia with a harp in hand. He paused and studied her with a tilt of his head briefly before speaking in his cool, dry voice.

"Good evening, my lady"

*her head snaps up*

Er. Good evening.

A charming smile, and an odd glint in his dark eyes flash as he speaks.

"Would you care for some music, my lady?"

He gestures gracefully at his harp.

Um. I'd prefer not, if it's all the same to you.

A brief bit of dismay flashed across his face, but was quickly gone.

"Would you prefer a bit of company instead?"

. . .I don't see why not.

Asmodean smiled.

"May I sit?"

Of course. *she indicates the chair opposite her, but shrinks back slightly*

He sits down. He notices her unease but says nothing.

"Would it be too much to assume that you are well this evening?"

*she's quite nervous, all things considered*

I'm perfectly fine, thank you for asking.

Asmodean nods. He smirks slightly.

"You seem ill at ease. Is something wrong?"

I-I'm still getting used to Milliways. That's all.

Asmodean nodded. He was fairly sure that she was not telling the truth, but that did not matter much.

"It does take some time to get used to. Anything that bothers you in particular?"

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