(Untitled)

[cant_kim]

The door cracks open. Kim peers around, and lets out a relieved sigh when the room beyond proves to be Milliways. Slipping inside, she tucks a piece of wire into her pocket and heads for the fireplace to warm up. It's damn cold in London, but at least it's not raining

Comments

[i_got_vision]

There's a cowboy over in a chair by the fireplace--well, it's cold outside, and it's not like he's going to do outlaw business here, so what is there to do on a quiet evening but settle in with a favorite old book and some hot cider?

You take the quiet moments when you can. Kim gets a glance and a polite nod, when she approaches the fire.

[cant_kim]

She eyes him sidelong and gives him a nod in return, tucking her jacket a little closer around herself as she warms herself up.

[i_got_vision]

"There's some cider if you want it," he says, nodding toward a pitcher on the table nearby. "Should still be hot."

He's not pushy, just being friendly. Folks wouldn't come over by the fire if they weren't cold.

[cant_kim]

She shakes her head.

"Ain't thirsty. Thanks."

[i_got_vision]

"Suit yourself," he says. "It's there if you want it."

No matter how much he may like his book--and he does; Oliver Twist is the first book other than the Bible that his mother ever read to him from--people are more interesting to him than reading, generally speaking.

[cant_kim]

Kindness from strangers is still strange -- but she's been relying on charity more than usual lately. She nods again, touching her cap.

"Thanks, guv'nor. Is it boosed?"

[i_got_vision]

"Is it what?"

He takes a sip from his own cup of it.

"Nice and hot, and with some spices in it, if that's what you mean. Can't drink bourbon all the time, you know?"

[cant_kim]

"Is it boosed," she repeats. "Does it have liquor in it?"

[i_got_vision]

"Oh," he says. "Hardly any. I can't even feel it."

Which may not mean much, given his usual taste in drinks, but it is really weak, even for cider.

[cant_kim]

She gives him a look, trying to judge whether or not he's the kind of bingo boy that can't feel a lot of liquor.

[i_got_vision]

He's cleaned up more nicely than he would be out on the trail, but he's still a bit rough around the edges--clothes clean but worn and mended, boots scuffed, hands rough and callused from handling horses. Not a man of leisure, at any rate.

[cant_kim]

He doesn't look like much of anyone in Kim's London; it's hard to judge.

"Not feelin' the brandy don't mean there ain't plenty, for some folk," she points out.

[i_got_vision]

"Well... you could try a sip, see how you like it?" he suggests. "If not, I'm sure those rats could bring you some that's got no alcohol in it at all. They have tea and coffee and things like that, too; I don't go in for that sort of thing much, but I know some folks do."

[cant_kim]

"The tea here's good -- better'n anywhere else I've had," she volunteers with a quick smile.

[i_got_vision]

"My mother used to drink tea, when she could get it," he says, idly scratching the back of his neck. "She was English though, she grew up with it. I grew up with coffee."

It being cheaper, of course.

[cant_kim]

"S'pose I'm English as they come, too. Where're you from?"