A long long time ago, I can still remember...
how minkhollow requested Neverwhere/Hitchhiker's Guide
And I knew that if I had the chance, I could make those people dance
And maybe she’d be happy for a while…
Hmm? Oh, right.
The marquis de Carabas watched as Richard offered a cup of tea, and the man in the ratty bathrobe burst into grateful tears. He turned back to Ford. “He’s… cute.”
“So’s yours,” Ford said, making a vague gesture in the general direction of the teapot.
“He,” the marquis said, “happens to be Warrior of the Places Below, and the holder of the key.”
“The key?”
“The Key,” the marquis repeated, dropping his voice a register and making it waver ominously over the vowels.
“Then I’m sure he’s very useful,” Ford said, adding, “Arthur is the sandwich maker.”
“Really?” said the marquis. He looked over at Arthur, who was taking things out of his pocket and placing them on the table. It was mostly a collection of lint and pebbles, but the marquis recognized a few vaguely electronic things.
Richard picked out the biggest, most shiny looking of those things, and then he passed Arthur a box of tea leaves worth about an old shoelace at market. Arthur clutched the tea to his chest.
The marquis frowned. “You don’t mean Bob’s sandwich maker.”
“Of course I do,” said Ford. “I wouldn’t bring attention to it otherwise.”
Ford gave the marquis a friendly pat that only staggered him slightly, and then walked over to where Arthur was carefully putting the last few pieces on lint back in his pocket. The marquis sighed.
Later, when Ford and Arthur had gone, Richard repeated, “Ford Prefect,” a couple of times and looked strangely at the marquis. “He introduced himself as your cousin.”
“Yes.”
“Mmm.” Richard poked at a broken tea biscuit. “Is that yes, he *is* your cousin, or yes, he did introduce himself as such.”
The marquis grinned. “Does it matter?”
“It might,” said Richard. “You told me everyone in your family had long since passed from this Earth.”
“Well, perhaps he came back for a visit.”
“Perhaps.” Richard looked down, considering the black object Arthur had traded him for the tea leaves. The marquis stole the larger piece of his biscuit and took a bite.
And I knew that if I had the chance, I could make those people dance
And maybe she’d be happy for a while…
Hmm? Oh, right.
The marquis de Carabas watched as Richard offered a cup of tea, and the man in the ratty bathrobe burst into grateful tears. He turned back to Ford. “He’s… cute.”
“So’s yours,” Ford said, making a vague gesture in the general direction of the teapot.
“He,” the marquis said, “happens to be Warrior of the Places Below, and the holder of the key.”
“The key?”
“The Key,” the marquis repeated, dropping his voice a register and making it waver ominously over the vowels.
“Then I’m sure he’s very useful,” Ford said, adding, “Arthur is the sandwich maker.”
“Really?” said the marquis. He looked over at Arthur, who was taking things out of his pocket and placing them on the table. It was mostly a collection of lint and pebbles, but the marquis recognized a few vaguely electronic things.
Richard picked out the biggest, most shiny looking of those things, and then he passed Arthur a box of tea leaves worth about an old shoelace at market. Arthur clutched the tea to his chest.
The marquis frowned. “You don’t mean Bob’s sandwich maker.”
“Of course I do,” said Ford. “I wouldn’t bring attention to it otherwise.”
Ford gave the marquis a friendly pat that only staggered him slightly, and then walked over to where Arthur was carefully putting the last few pieces on lint back in his pocket. The marquis sighed.
Later, when Ford and Arthur had gone, Richard repeated, “Ford Prefect,” a couple of times and looked strangely at the marquis. “He introduced himself as your cousin.”
“Yes.”
“Mmm.” Richard poked at a broken tea biscuit. “Is that yes, he *is* your cousin, or yes, he did introduce himself as such.”
The marquis grinned. “Does it matter?”
“It might,” said Richard. “You told me everyone in your family had long since passed from this Earth.”
“Well, perhaps he came back for a visit.”
“Perhaps.” Richard looked down, considering the black object Arthur had traded him for the tea leaves. The marquis stole the larger piece of his biscuit and took a bite.