Imagine if you will, the sparsely yet sumptuously decorated abode of a young member of the idle rich. A spacious sitting room containing pristinely polished wooden tables and meticulously buffed leather armchairs and so on and so forth
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Momiji (who happily happens to be nearby) makes a flailing grab for the tray as it tumbles over - a relatively ungraceful one, to be honest, sending his schoolgirl's cap flopping right off his head.
But breakfast keeps off the floor for the moment, and that's a perk, right?
"That would've been messy," the teen snickers, holding the tray back towards Jeeves.
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We should all the grateful Jeeves has no frame of reference for that particular piece of headgear, or he would be most distressed. However, breakfast is saved, which is most auspicious.
He'll just place it somewhere safe, like on a nearby table. Where his not quite steady hands can't cause anything to spill over.
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"No problem!"
The rabbit-boy hops back a step and smiles brightly, casting a curious glance to the food he'd rescued.
"I guess you weren't expecting the Bar, huh?"
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His chin tilts incrementally to the side, as do the corners of his mouth - in opposite directions - and his voice raises a tad in query. Formality, Momiji will come to realize, is of utmost importance to Jeeves.
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The pointless-but-enthused wave that he offers is not exactly formal. Nor is the way he sweeps his arm around, once he's done, indicating the Bar like a carnival showman.
"And this is Milliways! It's like - well, it's kind of a bar where all the customers come in from really different places. Like, I always come in from my house in Kyoto, and then there're other people who're here from the moon and stuff!"
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