milliways_bar | (no subject)

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A very damp hobbit wanders in the front door. His hands are pruny, and his hair is still dripping, and his lips are slightly blue. It's possible he's been swimming for too long.

He orders something warm and gets hot chocolate and a towel. He dries his hair vigorously for a moment, then picks up his hot chocolate and starts looking under tables and in corners, probably disturbing a few people as he goes.

After all, it's not every day a hobbit peers under your table and walks away for no apparant reason.

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Shannon looks down at him, literally, and probably figuratively as well. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for a dog," he explains. "Have you seen one? It can write."

"A kid back at the island has a dog, and that's the only one I've seen for a really long time. And it can't write."

"This one cries over cheese," Smeagol says, looking behind Shannon's chair. "I think I scared it the other day, and it sort of ran off. If you see it, will you tell me?" he looks at her hopefully.

"Sure, whatever."

"Thanks," he says, and then remembers his manners. He holds out his hand in greeting. "I'm Smeagol, by the way."

She shakes his hand gingerly. It's been awhile since she's done that. "Shannon."

He bows over Shannon's hand, quickly and politely, and lets go equally quickly. "I'm going to go look some more. If you see him, make sure you tell him I'm looking for him, please."

Shannon smiles a little, or at least stops looking so annoyed. This whole thing with people bowing at her is something she could get used to. "I guess I'll do that."

"Thanks," says Smeagol, and wanders off to look under someone else's table.

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