milliways_bar | (no subject)

Current Mood: thoughtful

(no subject)

There's an OS occupying space at the bar. Also occupying space nearby is a half-eaten bowl of RAM, and some sake.

Perhaps someone would also like to occupy some nearby space, for the purposes of conversation.

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In point of fact, there is a small girl somewhere nearby.

She is attempting to clamber on top of the stool, which is rather too tall for her.

CUTENESS SENSE TINGLING

95 smiles down at the girl. "Ara ara... would you like some help?"

"If you could," Mary says, a trifle stiffly. She's getting better, but strangers still aren't her forte.

She hops down and easily lifts the child up (resisting the impulse to rub her cheek on the girl) before returning to her own stool with a warm smile. "Is that better, then?"

"I can reach the table top, now," Mary says gravely. "I did not know if it would give me tea if I could not reach the top."

"Hm..." She ponders this. "I am not sure myself. I believe she would, however; Bar-san is a very accomodating person."

"Bar-san?" Mary repeats.

"I had thought she was only called Bar."

"Ara... You must be Western, then. -san is something that we add to the end of a name in Japan, to show respect. That is why I call her Bar-san. So if you were Japanese, you would address me as '95-san,'" she explains patiently.

Mary nods solemnly, assimilating this merely as another bit of native Bar dialect.

"I am Mary Lennox-san, then."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mary-san." She bows. "I do not believe I have seen you here before, though you seem to know how things work. How long have you been here?"

"I do not stay here," Mary says, casually. "I live at my uncle's. There is a door in the garden, and I come here when it is open."

"Ah, I see." She nods, sipping her sake. "Is your uncle a nice person?"

Mary takes a sip of her tea as well.

"I have never met him.

I do not think he is, though, from what I have heard."

"You live with him, but you haven't met him?" She blinks. "My, how cery strange that must be. Surely, there is somebody who takes care of you?"

"Martha does," Mary says, indifferently, "when she is not busy with other things. She brings my breakfast in the morning, and helps me to dress, and sometimes she talks to me, or I tell her about India."

"Ah... it is good to hear that. You are from India, then?" She's not familiar with blonde, blue-eyed people being from India, but she's never been there, so...

"I am," Mary agrees. "I do not live there anymore, though. But Martha has never been, and likes to hear about it so she can tell her family."

"How very kind of you to oblige her, then. Is it an exciting place?"

"I was never very excited there," Mary says.

Because clearly that's the sum definition of India's excitement.

"Ara... that's a shame," she mourns, "Perhaps you find this place more interesting?"

"I suppose," says Mary loftily, leery of giving unequivocal praise.

"You don't seem very excited," she teases, "Can it be that even here you are bored? What high standards you must have!"

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