milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Logan. Bar. Coffee.

He went home recently. Didn't much like it, so he came back. Things are chaos at the Casablancas house and in Neptune in general, and normally Logan would be thrilled, but his playmate's too busy for him at the moment, and Veronica and Duncan are still super-lovey.

Miliways is a better place to be at the moment.

He's pleased to be here, and looking for a chat.

((OOC: On way to cafe for homeworking, but will be online most of the night.))

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"So am I," he says, and if he sounds gloomy, it's only because he knows it's true.

Time to cheer them both up.

And, so, with a great deal of chatter, Simon Perryvall has just arrived, hopping across the top of the table.

"Logan, have you met Simon Perryvall?" Amy asks, reaching out to scritch the squirrel.

"I have not," Logan says. "Greetings, Mr. Perryvall. How are you this fine afternoon? Or whatever it is, here."

Chatter. Chatter. Simon Perryvall hops over to see if Logan has food or scritches to offer.

"He used to be an acorn shell," says Amy, conversationally.

Logan has scritches and pie crumbs. That will have to suffice.

"Oh?" Logan asks. "How did he go about becoming a squirrel?"

Scritches and pie crumbs are perfect.

"He got alchemized. Right after I arrived. And then Mr Pemberthy and I had to teach him to be a squirrel." Her voice is fond. She's very proud of Simon Perryvall.

"Dude, that sucks," Logan says. "How did you - wait, alchemized? Like, lead into gold and stuff?"

Milliways can make your head ache if you're not careful, and Logan so rarely is.

"Yes, only, acorn shell into squirrel. Have you met Al? He does alchemy using chalk circles. He alchemized a spot of ink off my cheek once. And he used to be a little boy, but he's suddenly very tall and seems to be wearing a suit of armor all the time."

Chatter chatter chatter.

Did you say something about headaches?

That was resolved fairly headache-freely.

"Gotcha," Logan says. "I haven't met him, but I'll be on the lookout for a giant suit of armor. Does he still talk?"

"Yes," says Amy. Al is also on the list of people she's worried about, really.

"He says he's wearing the armor for a hobby, but unless he's taking up jousting . . . I taught him to dance, back before he grew quite so tall. And he taught me how to punch people."

It's a skill she hasn't needed here yet. Of course, neither really is the minuet.

Logan blinks. "Those aren't skills that often go together," he says slowly. "Which were you better at?"

She shrugs. "Fighting and dancing are both about knowing where your body is and what it's doing, and how to stay balanced. I've had years of dance lessons. I was never as good as my sisters, but probably better than I am at fighting."

A pause. "On the other hand, I think it might be more useful here than the minuet."

"Huh," Logan says. "Never thought about it like that. 'Course, I always was a crap dancer and I only do okay in fights when I can use dirty tricks. Still, I imagine both could be handy. There seem to be a lot of dancers in Milliways."

Amy, from a world in which fights are governed by pretty strict rules, blinks.

"well," she says uncertainly, "I suppose if you improved one, you might improve the other."

"Maybe," he says. "My mom had me take ballroom dancing lessons, when I was a kid. Said they'd give me poise or some shit, but all I managed to do was knock things over and step on my partners toes. I think I'll stick with my cheating, thanks."

It's said with a hint of playfulness and no bitterness. Unusual, when he talks about his mother, but not unwelcome.

Amy cannot quite approve of cheating. But she picks up on the playfulness and decides to hope that he is kidding.

"I never did master the minuet," she says. "It's supposed to take three years, and Senor Alejandro gave up on me at five."

She knows all the steps, she just never mastered them.

"Pearl mastered it in two, of course."

"Can you do it without causing great injury to anyone?" Logan asks. "I never could. Someone always went home with a bruise. Usually it was me."

"Pearl's an older sister, I take it?"

"Oh, yes. I know it, I just never mastered it. And Pearl is my youngest older sister."

Hands down, her least favorite.

"Diamond, Opal, Emerald, Sapphire, Crystal, and Pearl. My mother had a theme for our names."

Pause.

"How exactly did you get bruised in a dance lesson?"

Logan winces. "Ouch. And you are?"

"It's a special skill," Logan says. "I stepped on my partner's foot, cursed, and got called out by the teacher and kicked by my partner. The lessons stopped soon after that." He smirks.

"Amethyst."

A pause.

"Amethyst Alexandra Augusta Araminta Adelaide Aurelia Anne."

Another pause.

"So you didn't get bruised by the actual dancing, then."

Logan's eyes widen. "That's just cruel," he says. "To name a poor defenseless baby something longer than she is."

Logan laughs. "No. Might have been less embarrassing if I had, really. Mom would have been less angry, that's for sure."

Amy laughs. "Really, I can forgive them for everything but the 'Araminta.'"

Could be worse. Pearl got Perpetua.

"That makes more sense, though I'm sorry you had a partner who kicked you. It's hardly proper deportment."

"And it shortens so nicely into Amy," Logan says, grinning. "Really, if you had 'pearl' you'd be stuck with it, and it wouldn't suit you so well."

"Caitlin never much cared about propriety," he says ruefully. "Not then, not ever. And so now, I don't dance."

"Thank you," she says, smiling. "I've always liked 'Amy.'"

"Maybe you'll change your mind someday," she says. She's quite fond of dancing. "I don't think most girls kick their dance partners."

"It's a cute name for a cute girl," he says lightly.

"Maybe. Only if I can find someone who doesn't think my shins have bulls-eyes on them."