milliways_bar | (no subject)

Trillian would bet Ford said that while she was sitting there on purpose.

She'd most likely be right.

"Hnh," is all she says, taking another sip of her wine.

"Yeah," Zaphod says, happily oblivious to Trillian's non-commital stance on the subject.

"Nice girl. Been a while since I've seen her, though. She gets more media coverage than God." Also true. "So she's always pretty busy. Sends me clippings from the mags sometimes, though."

Maybe he did, but it would be more to razz Zaphod than to make Trillian jealous. He's not that tactless.

"Why shouldn't she? She's got a lot more going for her than God. Glad to see she's still keeping in some kind of touch, though. She told me to tell you hi last time I caught her show. That was about... four months before I showed up here? Something like that."

"It'd be nice if the media focused on something sensible," Trillian says in just above a mutter, taking another sip of wine.

When she becomes a reporter, it'll be better.

This conversation may be encouraging her to do so.

"Media and sensible do not mix," Zaphod says wisely. "How do you think I got to be President?"

He's been asking that quesiton a lot. So has that magazine.

"If it makes you feel any better, some girl tried to get a real interview with me last night." He shakes his head. "Should send her over to Eccentrica. The real reporters know I'm noit doing anything newsworthy right now."

"Well, apart from aiding in a revolutionary uprising that overthrew the government of the planet Antar."

He considers this.

"True. Trill, you, should put that in your letter. Get you some media coverage."

"Technically, not the government itself. The system didn't really change, just become slightly less tyrannical. And, um, restoring the actual royal line. But see, he can't admit to having done that, Ford."

Trillian does know what she's talking about, really.

"Because then it would show that Zaphod had alleigance to a particular side. This would therefore show bias, and a President can't have bias toward a side that is not his entire jurisdiction, but a faction within - and it would lose votes."

Ford staaaares.

"... ow, Trillian. Just ow. Political science before breakfast is just... ow."

Zaphod stares right along with him.

"......"

It's likely he never knew any of that.

"Right. Well." He blinks. "That reminds me, better go find that chick and finish the interview before she starts stalking me." He stands and waves at them both, grinning. "And Ford? You know that thing, from before, with the ship and the ropes? We aren't ever going to speak of it."

"Yeah," mutters Trillian, glaring at her drink, "yeah, you ought to. Don't need another girl following you around, after all."

Once Zaphod's gone, she continues to glare for a moment before murmuring something along the lines of, "The dreams of my mind and my heart pass, and nothing stays with me long."

Then, louder, "Ford, hell, who am I kidding?"

Hear that grinding noise? That's Ford's mind trying to shift gears without engaging a clutch first.

"Kidding? You? I've never known you to kid anyone."

His brow furrows.

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Ugh. Just. Ugh. That is my brilliant statement."

She gestures at where Zaphod was sitting.

"I? Am a scientist. A brain. Not celebrity-quality-girlfriend. Definitely not appealing. And he's hounded by people all the time, anyhow. I should give up."

This is where all of Trillian's friends want to kick her. hard. But she tends to ignore it.

Ford, he realizes, is probably not the best person with whom to have this conversation.

In fact... "I'm probably not the best person with whom to have this conversation."

"Y'know? Yeah. I see your point. Sorry."

Actually, she doesn't entirely. Trillian plans on discussing it with Val and Lilly, though. They are, as a rule, safer advice givers.

"Let me get you breakfast, then, as an apology for the pol-sci?"

He can tell from her tone that she still doesn't understand the full extent of things. Maybe one day he'll be able to tell her.

"Breakfast sounds good."

She's dense.

Well, no. Trillian's really very intelligent, but about utterly different things.

"What d'you want? Antar covers my tab, now."

"It's good to be the consort," he says with a grin.

"So. Breakfast." He claps his hands together, trying to clear the unpleasantness from his mind. "How about some sausages and black pudding, then? That and a pint will do me just fine, I think."

"Oh, you speak for yourself," Trillian teases, sparks coming out of her fingertips just briefly.

She gestures at Bar, and all of the above appear on the table.

"Thanks, dear," she says, giving Bar a smile.

"Hey, looks like you're getting that more under control. Good for you, love."

He starts to tuck in, but pauses. "Nothing for you?"

"Well, sort of. I'm not supposed to really just use it rampantly - the others certainly aren't keen on it, I'll say that - but it goes away after a minute."

Beat.

"No, I'm fine, I ate with Val."

"Fair enough, then," he says, to both counts, then begins eating.

Unlike his usual manner, however, he is using a knife and fork on the sausages instead of picking them up; he is not chugging the pint; and he is taking reasonably-sized bites of the pudding.

"Sorry about my political rambling. Like I said, I ate with Val. I don't know how well you know Val Skywalker, but she's the type of person who rubs off on her friends. Quickly. We had a rather heartfelt discussion over politics, the media, scandals and incest, so I'd already been in that mode of discussion."

Trillian really doesn't realize just how odd that sounds, quite yet.

She does realize Ford's a bit neater than usual.

She doesn't say anything about either count.

Amazingly enough, he waits until he swallows the food in his mouth before he responds.

"'S alright. I just wasn't expecting it so early. I don't think I've never actually met Val, but I know a little about her from our recent trip. She does seem very passionate about what she does."

"She's a very dear friend, and a genius of a political writer. Max made her Minister of Legal and Public Affairs, and I can't have imagined a better choice. Not that he asked me. He is supposed to ask me, being an advisor -- oh, well, no matter. Val's perfect."

Trillian toys with her hair a minute, as it keeps falling in her face, and shrugs.

"Bloody tabloids. We have a Plan."

One can almost hear the capital letter.