milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Peter enters the bar from the back door -- or rather, Peter has every intention of entering a disreputable looking pub in London, and enters Milliways instead.

Oh.

Here again?

A man won't be safe to use the washroom soon but he's transported here.

Hair plastered to his head, he sheds his soaking wet greatcoat, hanging it up to dry and crossing to the bar.

Hot buttered rum, please.

He fishes a book out of his pocket, looks relieved that it is dry, collects his drink, thanks the bar politely, and retreats to a corner to read.

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Peter looks up, surprised.

Thanks, I think I'll just...drip dry a bit. My clothes are all right, the coat kept most of the damp out. If you happen to see my glass empty, keeping it filled would be splendid, otherwise I want for nothing. Materially, at any rate.

You're new here, aren't you? How d'ye do...Peter Wimsey. Lord Wimsey if you like that sort of thing.

He holds out his hand and smiles.

*Val holds out her hand and shakes his.*

It is a pleasure to meet you, milord. I am Valentine Wiggin, and yes, I am new here. I have achieved my position only about three days ago.

*She smiles gently*

Pleasure to meet you, Miss Wiggin. Congratulations, I suppose. Business must be well if they're taking on more waitstaff -- not that I doubt it. I suppose you're from some distant past or other universe or some such. Nearly everyone is, around here.

He glances down at his book, and a momentarily sad look crosses his face.

Still, it's peaceful, isn't it.

*Valentine chuckles*

I, actually am more than likely from your future.

It is quite peaceful, actually. *She raises her eyebrows* Are you alright, sir?

A wan smile.

Fine, thank you. I suffer a lack of peace, especially peace where one can find a decent drink.

My future, eh? And when do you hail from, then? Do you know the lovely Ms. Vorkosigan?

*Valentine ponders for a moment*

No, I haven't heard of her, actually.

There is a lack of peace in any world, actually. My world is plagued by people who can never have peace due to things beyond their control.

As with mine, then. It would make me a nihilist if I bothered to believe in anything.

He takes a sip of the buttered rum.

And I suppose if I were to stay long enough, Milliways would no doubt prove no different. Still, allow me to keep one or two illusions. He grins suddenly. I shan't misuse them.

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