milliways_bar | (no subject)

Mommy is reading a book and Angela is booooored. Her dish of ice cream is moosh, and she's colored a lot.

For the last few minutes, she's been edging ever farther away from Mommy. Angela is tricksy, she is.

And then she spies someone she hasn't seen in ever so long, so she toddles over. "Hi, 'Athin." She smiles.

Asmodean glanced down from his book and gives her a small smile. His voice has a touch of warmth to it.

"Hello, Lady Angela."

Angela doesn't wait for an invitation, but climbs up into Jasin's lap. "'Athin read?"

He nods calmly, and smiles.

"Of course, I will."

Clearing his throat slightly, he began to recite in a deep, smooth voice. The verses flowed.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more."

He paused and glanced at Angela.

Angela knows not of Mr. Poe, but she would probably think he needed more rainbows in his life.

"Ooh," she says, and shivers.

Angela got a slight hug at the shiver.

"Another poem, dear, or a bit of music?"

"Moosic?" Angela enquires hopefully.

She likes music quite a lot, and she's not very discriminatory yet.

Asmodean pauses for a moment and begins to sing slowly. He needs no accompanyment. His voice soft, and melodic.

My funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable
Unphotographable
Yet you’re my favourite work of art

Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?

But don’t change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentine’s day

Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?

But don’t you change one hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentine’s day

Angela is going to fall asleep, but it was a nice song, so she claps, because that's what you are Supposed To Do.

Asmodean smiled at Angela.

"Did you like it, Lady Angela?"

"Yeth, good moosic. Tank 'oo."

Angela is Polite.

He grinned.

"You are very welcome."

There's perhaps a familiar looking pair of boots hanging over the edge of a booth nearby.

They are attached to two very familiar looking heads.

Zaphod waves. "Hey, man. Keepin' cool, yeah?"

He considered for a moment. The voice is cool and dry as always.

"I suppose so."

"And who's this, Jasin?"

Trillian's grinning.

"Right on, man, right on."

It takes some effort, but Zaphod levers himself up into a semblance of an upright position and grins at Asmodean cheerfully.

"Good book?"

Asmodean turns to Trillian with a small smile, before speaking to Angela.

"Lady Angela, please say hello to Lady Trillian."

He pursed his lips slightly as he thought.

"Yes, I am enjoying it."

Oh, pretty lady! "Hewwo, Twillian," Angela says, with a friendly smile.

"Nice, nice." Zaphod nods, and gives his own magazine a look of purest contempt before folding it up and putting it aside.

"So. Whatcha been up to, frood? Just reading?"

"Well, hello."

Trillian winks.

"Child of a friend, Jasin, or a relative?"

He considered for a moment. A surprisingly difficult question really.

"She is not a direct blood relation..."

"... relative of Nita's?" Trillian guesses.

He considered for a moment.

"That and my music."

He thinks further.

"I suppose you could say that."