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[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

Now, it's just a right lovely evenin', wouldn't you find yourself sayin'?

One've them where somewhere round about the place there's some fool of a poet tryin' to write up the evenin' in iambic pentameter, or maybe as a sestina. Or a sestina in iambic pentameter, it surely wouldn't surprise me none at all.

Meanwhile, while them poets get into a fight over rhyme schemes, over here by the fire there's that fool of a fellow Rabbit, sprawled 'cross one've them couches, with wood an' knife an' cigarette in hand.

How he manages to balance all three without droppin' somethin', stabbin' hisself in the foot, or settin' his own hair on fire, reckon I couldn't tell you even if he managed to explain it t'me.

Comments

[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

"Then which is it now?"

A reasonable question, surely.

[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

"Oh, I suppose they would be," he says, rather contemplatively. "You gonna offer 'em up, or leave me t'try an' think somethin' up while I'm busy over here workin' on this?"

[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

Well, Ghost does at least get Rabbit to look up and in fact fix him with a Look, no less, so if that's what he's after then I reckon he must be pleased.

"Contrary t'some popular opinion, I ain't about t'start eatin' sticks," is the reply. "An' I got other plans f'these than hopscotch."

[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

"We-ell..."

He's quiet, for a moment, because it's right finicky to try carvin' around the joints.

"Present for a friend," he explains, blowing away nearly-invisible bits of wood.

[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

"Steve I'd reckon is a friend've yours?"

[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

Funny thing, lookin' away. 'Cause while you ain't lookin', all sorts've things might happen that wouldn't if you were.

The knife, an' whatever it was he was carvin', is gone now. The cigarette's still in his hand, but that ain't particularly surprisin', as he stands over by that pale young fellow.

"Looks t'me like you could use a drink," he says, mildly.

[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

"Did I say a damn thing about the door?" he asks, mildly.

[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

"Did I say anythin' about gettin' drunk, kid?"

He smiles, a little.

"You ain't happy like this, near's I can tell, but you ain't gonna be any happier fallin' out've your chair from too much t'drink, an' I don' reckon that's what I'm aimin' for anyroad."

[mahtigwess.livejournal.com]

"Not, technically, that it's any of my business, o'course," he says, idly. "'Ceptin' I'm a nosy bastard, an' you went an' got all quiet-like an' glum just a moment ago."