milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Mike returns to the bar, having changed his ever present orange Hawaiian print shirt for something a little more subdued. You know, a blue one. Draped over one arm is a flowered wreath which appears to have been made with Two-Ply Facial Tissues. In the right light one can see that it has been sprayed with glitter. Placing the wreath down on the Bar, Mike sets about crafting the specials menu for the evening's Happy Hour in script is stylized, yet tasteful.

IN MEMORIAM
Lake Water
Rubber Duckie
The Vibrator

When the wreath is finally set in a place of prominence, Mike mixes himself a Rubber Duckie, and holds it aloft.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Milliways. The Bar is now open. Let us drink to the memory of Senior Squeakins. May he delight those whom he meets, from now until the end of all things."

He downs the drink, and turns the now empty glass over, mouth down on the Bar.

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Kaylee's smile widens, and she looks down. "It ain't a b.s. answer. Really."

And she drinks.

"Thanks, Mike."

"For you schweet heart? Anythin'.
Does Simon like Snickerdoodle?"

"...don't know. What's in it?"

Kaylee doesn't know. Oh dear.

"Cinnamon. Lots and lots of cinnamon. And butter. Lots of cinnamon and butter."

Ooooooooooooh.

"Hell yes."

Beaming.

"Oh...did I forget the sugar? There's lots of sugar as well. Is that okay? The sugar?"

See, now he's just egging her on.

And I suppose next he's going to say there are eggs, right?

She's grinning. "'Course. That's the best damn part."

"You know, there might be some pre-made in the back. Just like a cooking show. I don't suppose you'd want to try a couple...."

"Might could convince me." Shifty.

"Okay....cover me."

And with that Mike makes a mad, flailing dash towards the kitchen. There's even a well placed cloud of napkins that gently falls to the ground as he flees.
When the last napkin comes to rest, he returns with a plate on which rests a single cookie.

It smells like heaven, and has a small five fingered paw print dead center.

"I think you might need milk for this."

If there were a crowd, that crowd would totally be breaking out in applause.

As is, Kaylee is simply torn between looking amazed and looking adoring.

"Damn straight. Bar? Can you?" A glass appears.

"Here goes."

Sampling.

"...oh, I think I'm in love."

"It is a cookie that defines a generation. Now I can't promise that this is the cure for all that ails anyone, but from where I'm standing, it's as good a start as anything else."

"I believe you." Sincere. "Just...damn, Mike."

She is delighted.

"So two dozen? Three? How many should I ask the rats to bake up? Or would you rather just the dough so you can make them piping hot yourselves? Or...you know, claim you baked them."

"Wouldn't do that." Grinning. "Can I get three? Everybody'd want some, I know."

"I think three is doable."

Everyone knows the New Yorker Cabbie Call. That shrill whistle that can only be brought forth through the power of one's thumb and index finger. Mike uses it now to summon some wait/kitchen rats.

"Hey guys? This is Kaylee. Kaylee, these are the guys.
Think we can get this pretty lady three dozen snickerdoodles? Actually, make it four, but don't cook the last bits, leave those dough so she can either eat them raw, or bake them up at her convenience. Sound like a plan? Sweet, there's a wheel of blue cheese in it for you. On me."

Turning towards Kaylee.

"You just have to know their language."

"My hero."

Beaming. Also, not kidding.

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