milliways_bar | (no subject)

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And the number of dead, snarky princes in the bar has gone up by one.

Mordred's at his normal table by the front door, carving something.

He might even tell you what it is.

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"Sadly, I don't think anyone is going to give me one."

He notices the faded smile, yes he does.

"Why not?" he asks. "You seem like you'd be an asset to any biker gang. You're handy with sharp things and not afraid to take risks."

The smirk's firmly back in place, and it's not going to slip again. Really. It's not.

Mordred smirks.

And considers his boyfriend's reaction to a bike.

And begins to snigger.

Logan raises an eyebrow. "That's funny cause why?" he asks drily. "There has to be reason. Unless I've got spinach in my teeth?"

"It would break my boyfriend's mind. He's sworn to be my Champion, which means he has to follow me and make sure people don't kill me."

"It's just...Galahad. On a motorbike..."

Logan grins slowly. "Not that I've met him," he says. "But I'm imagining the Galahad of myth and legend on a motorbike, and it just...doesn't quite mesh, does iT?"

Cheerfully,

"Nope!"

This is going to amuse him for a while.

"My 'Ala...quiet, French. Scholar and solider. But...very, very Dark Ages."

"We really might have to see about getting you that motorcycle, then," Logan says, grinning. "I'm sure it can be arranged."

He steeples his fingers fingers.

"Eeeexcellent."

Logan snorts. "That's a pretty good Mr. Burns you've got there," he says.

A blink.

"Who?"

Logan sighs. "You knew about cars," he says. "I couldn't help but hope you'd watched at least one Simpsons episode. It's the best sitcom of the 90s. Brilliant stuff. TV, right?"

"There is a town on the edge of my battlefield, it's not that hard to watch cars. And I know what TV is..."

"Kinda. Prefer movie theatres, though. Easily to get into."

"Makes sense," Logan says. "But I bet Bar could procure one for you. And a Simpsons DVD. You've got to watch it. You'd love it."

A little bemused,

"Sure."

Sounds like Logan knows what Mordred's Christmas gift will be!

"So, anything exciting happening for you?" he asks.

"My not'wife is considering bringing my not'sons here to live so their Mordred doesn't get 'em killed."

All spoken so very, very deadpan.

Logan...blinks. "Um. Well. That's...good?"

"Considering. Thus, she'll give it a trial run for a month of so. It's...fucked up, actually."

Logan's on much firmer ground when it comes to all things fucked up. "Yeah, sounds a little wonky," he agrees. "But if it keeps them alive, it's good, right?"

"She'll take 'em back." He rubs the bridge of his nose. "She's married to Mordred, and they are his sons...she'll take 'em back."

"Did..." Logan pauses. The whole situation's so weird, there's no good way to ask the question. "Did you have kids? Before you died? Or is everything totally different in that other world?"

"Not that I'm aware of? There's a possiblity, considering I used to sleep around a lot before Galahad. But, not that I'm aware of, no."

"And it's...not totally different. Her Mordred married married, but in my world our fathers had a falling out and the thing was called off."

Logan lays his head on the table. "These multiverses make my head hurt," he says. His voice is a bit muffled by his sleeve. "And I'm not even involved in one of them."

"And my brother, Bran? He is from yet another universe."

Yep, Mordred's a sadist.