milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Enter Faith, through the front doors.

Alone, tan, her hair grown out to her backside, looking not at all surprised to find the bar instead of...wherever she's coming from.

Outside there's sand, and palm trees, and beyond that, ocean as far as the eye can see.

Vacation's over. Time to get back to work.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well...who's the Antarian nobility? Maybe Max can take messages."

Faith has no clue.

Maybe, *Meg says, dubiously.* But as it is now, I'm stuck with the title, and the stigma, and no benefits for it.

- except the cash, that's kind of nice.

"Money is good. And how is it a stigma?"

Well, you know. Nobility. Inbred and lazy and overprivileged and snobby -

*Meg is not prejudiced, no not at all!*

Faith's eyebrows go up.

"Interesting bias you've got there."

. . . they're better than the bourgeois? *Meg offers, after a second.*

Just. When you see people lolling around in so much money they can afford to buy - just about anything they like - including you, if they feel like it, and sometimes they do - and you live in a place where, you know, people can't even afford to buy doctors -

*Meg's got personal reasons to be anti-nobility.*

"Ah."

Faith nods, sympathetically.

"Well...you've got money now. Use it to change stuff."

*Meg nods.*

- I plan to.

Got to be sneaky about it, though, because if I start throwing money about at home, there's going to be questions about how I got it -

Faith nods understanding.

"Well, you know if you need my help at all, you've got it."

*Meg grins.

And says, hopefully,* You wouldn't want to try and explain it to my mother, would you?

*She's joking.

. . . mostly.*

Faith snickers.

"You really want me to meet your mother, Meg?"

*Meg considers this for a moment.*

- only if I was far far away when it happened.

But with someone there with one of those things that makes movies so I could watch afterwards.

Faith giggles.

"You think if I wore the tutu she'd like me better?"

- no, then she'd just criticize your form.

And try to make you practice your arabesques for her, and you know, now I really want the little man with the movie-thing there to preserve this for posterity.

"What's an arabesque?"

Er - it's one of these, *Meg says, and hops off her stool to demonstrate.*

"Oh. Well, I can't do that."

I could teach you, if you liked, *Meg offers, helpfully.*

I bet you could, with the Slayer reflex things -

"...maybe. I mean, I probably could. But. Lessons maybe."

I'm good at teaching lessons, *Meg points out.*

- for a certain value of good, but I have done it a fair bit.

"I'm sure you are. I'm not a very good student. Impatient and all."

So that's why it's good to get practice, *Meg says cheerfully.*

Faith shakes her head.

"You really want to teach me?"

It'd be good practice for me, to start teaching again, *Meg says, with a grin.*

And I honestly think you'd be good at it.

"Alright. Alright, if it'll make you happy...not like I don't have the time now."