(Untitled)

[the_old_bean]

"Blimey," Bertie says as he walks through the front door. "This place again, is it?"

He shrugs and makes his way to the bar. "G and T, if you please, madame," he says, adding, "Cheers," when the glass pops up.

tiny!tag: Bertie Wooster

[ooc: It's late, and I must to bed. Slowtimes/fades all around, pls?]

Comments

[theunsmiling]

The too-skinny girl sitting near the bar looks up as he orders.

"You know, it's kind of strange how everyone here orders ordinary things--when you think about it. Isn't it?"

[the_old_bean]

"Is it?" Bertie asks, glancing around the room as he sips his gin and tonic. "What sort of extraordinary libations would you have us order?"

[theunsmiling]

"I don't know."

She doesn't look like she's laughing, but then Michael never does. It's old habit.

"I just keep being surprised that for all the strangeness--some things really aren't. I guess."

[the_old_bean]

"Ah, well," Bertie says, holding his glass up to the light. "Nothing in the world can compare to a good G and T, wot?"

[will_scarlett]

The letters aren't familiar so Will looks up from his fletching,

"G an T, sir?"

[the_old_bean]

The fletching isn't familiar to Bertie either, so he may be giving Will a rather curious look.

"G and T," he repeats, holding up the glass in illustration. "Gin and tonic, my good man. Don't tell me you've never had a G and T?" He looks mildly horrified at the idea.

[will_scarlett]

"Nay, dinna think so though might 'ave made one once."

Will's from a different time so there's always something he doesn't know about it.

[the_old_bean]

"Well, you bally well ought to try one, wot? Nothing like." Bertie smiles in satisfaction as he sips his.

"Let me stand you the first one."

[puckishly]

"My my," somebody drawls, from just outside Bertie's peripheral vision. "Whatever have we here?"

[the_old_bean]

Bertie glances in the direction of the voice. "What ho, what ho," he says, genially, by way of a greeting.

[puckishly]

Puck beams, scintillating.

"Precisely so."

And cocks his head to one side.

"I have often wondered," he says conversationally, "what is saved in time and labor by pronouncing only 'G' and 'T,' and skipping 'in' and 'onic.' Might you enlighten me, sir?"

[the_old_bean]

Bertie appears to think about this. Hard. "You know, I really couldn't say. I think it's...not so much a time saving device as a fashion of the time. I mean, you'd look a right fool saying 'gin and tonic' while all your friends were calling it a 'G and T' now wouldn't you?" The dismissive laugh he gives as he says this would seem to indicate that yes, you would look a right fool.

[gotaheadstart]

Cuddy's fairly exhausted at this point, but the sound of a voice brightens her mood.

"Didn't think you'd be back so soon, did you?" she asks teasingly from down the bar.

[the_old_bean]

Bertie smiles when he sees her. "Not at all. Though I can't say I'm disappointed. Bloody fantastic drinks here, wot?"

[gotaheadstart]

"It's some of the best tea I've ever had, at any rate," she admits, lifting her mug in a silent toasting.

"How've you been?"

[the_old_bean]

"Oh, can't complain," Bertie says. "Though I must say, I do wish the door wouldn't show up just as I'm on my way to the club. Really throws off a bloke's day, you know."

And then he remembers his manners. "And you? Hospital keeping you busy?"

[sous_thief]

[OOC: I'm off to bed shortly, but I couldn't resist. XD]

Steven pauses in this middle of his own pint to stare. "Blimey"? "G and T"? Dressed like that? Is this guy for fucking real?

Maguire told him about different times and whatever, but no one has ever actually acted like every ancient English stereotype rolled into one.

As a Welshman living in America, Steven is the tiniest bit sensitive about English stereotypes. Most Americans don't even know Wales exists.

[the_old_bean]

Bertie is, in many ways, a walking stereotype. Most definitely a product of his time.

At the moment, though, he's quite happy with his G and T, and smiling at anyone who catches his eye. The young man down the bar is no exception.

[sous_thief]

Steven shrugs and raises his glass in acknowledgment. He doesn't usually do the sitting and drinking on his own thing. It's just sad. And a walking stereotype is marginally better than no company at all.

He can't possibly be worse than Jim, anyway.

[the_old_bean]

"What ho," Bertie says, raising his own glass in return.