Millitimed to Way Back When

[talkstohats]

Sophie's latest floral experiment is going to turn out lovely one of these days. She's certain of it.

. . . however, today it still looks more like an odd squashed root than anything else, and so she's sitting at a table in the bar, eyeing it rather balefully as she attempts to coax it into better behavior.

"Come along, now - you must be due

Comments

[joye_of_snackes]

Nanny is wandering around the bar aimlessly - she does this when she wants to meet new people and doens't know who she wants to meet yet.

But there's something about an old woman talking to plants that nudges some sort of elderly sororal feeling, so she ends up standing by the table, looking at the plant curiously.

"I ain't seen one like that before," she observes.

[talkstohats]

"You won't have," Sophie answers, with some pride. "It's new now. I'm making it over."

She looks up, and finds herself immediately presented with mixed emotions.

This may be the first person she's seen in the bar whom she hasn't felt the urge to address as "young lady." On the one hand: seeing people younger than her constantly wandering about gets thoroughly frustrating. On the other, what if she fails at some crucial test of elderly womanhood and the stranger sees through her disguise? Dilemma!

[joye_of_snackes]

"Are you now?"

Without so much as a 'by your leave', Nanny pulls a chair over and makes her ample frame comfortable on it.

"What was it before?" she asks, peering at the plant.

[talkstohats]

Sophie frowns at it, rather thoughtfully.

"I'm not really sure - some kind of root that I found in the shop. Nothing terribly interesting."

There's a 'little did she know' looming in the near future, but for right now Sophie can comfortably ignore it.

"I'm Sophie, by the way," she adds, and extends a skinny hand.

[joye_of_snackes]

"'Allo, Sophie," Nanny says, looking curiously at the hand as if expecting it to do something interesting. "I'm Gytha Ogg. Most folks calls me Nanny, of course."

[talkstohats]

Sophie holds the hand up for a few more moments, and then lets it drop, feeling rather stupid.

"Well, people call me Old Sophie, of course," she announces, not to be outdone. "Or Aunt Jenkins."

[joye_of_snackes]

Nanny narrows her already piggy-like eyes, and peers at Sophie curiously. There's something there she considers interesting.

"And 'ow long 'ave you been working with plants, Sophie?"

[talkstohats]

"Oh, since we bought the flower shop," Sophie says, airily.

Which . . . . is not a specific answer. Sophie is not sure she wants to confess that it's only been a month or so.

"I've been experimenting. They're safe enough to practice on; you see what you get, so to speak."

[joye_of_snackes]

"Right," Nanny says. "Practicin'. I've never been one for practicin', myself."

[talkstohats]

Politely: "Do you work with plants, Mrs. Ogg?"

The 'Mrs.' just seems to come automatically. Gytha Ogg gives off vibes of Mrs.-hood.

[joye_of_snackes]

She does, doesn't she? Nanny's quite prooud of her Mrs.-hoods.

"Oh, occasionally," she says. "Herbs and that. I ain't really got the strength for gardenin' any more, but I likes to keep my hand in. You know 'ow it is when you gets old."

Doesn't she?

[talkstohats]

She does!

"Goodness, yes. I'm lucky enough to be quite hale for my age," Sophie agrees, creakily, "and to have a younger pair of legs to help me.

"- Michael," she adds, hastily. "The shop apprentice."

Just in case this is misinterpreted.

[joye_of_snackes]

Nanny chuckles. "Oh yes," she says with a conspiratorial wink. "It's always good to have a young man about, isn't it?"

[talkstohats]

. . . . she can't mean what Sophie thinks she means, can she?

Sophie is briefly grateful for the fact that, since she's been old, she's been relatively free from blushing. No, surely living with Howl's made her suspicious; Sophie's simply misjudging a perfectly innocent comment.

With dignity: "Michael's a very nice young man who's courting my sis-ter's granddaughter."

[joye_of_snackes]

Oh look how fast those wrinkles brows shoot up when she stmubles over the word 'sister'.

"I'm sure he is," she says. "But there's no harm in looking is there?"

[talkstohats]

"Er - well, he does take a good deal of looking after," Sophie agrees, blinking. And eyes the brow-wrinkles, with some wariness.

"A very nice young lad, as I said, but a little spineless."

On the surface they couldn't be more different, other than age - but all the same, something about Mrs. Ogg is reminding Sophie very strongly of Mrs. Pentstemmon.