(Untitled)
Dan has just come downstairs, to find that it has been quite some time since he was last down here. Months, in fact. To say that he is not thrilled with this news is putting it mildly, but he really can't complain too much, since he's dead and all. Time is bound to get strange in a place where strange times are commonplace
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Comments 46
"Haven't seen you around in a while."
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"Apparently this place saw it fit t'keep me upstairs awhile. I didn't notice how long it'd been."
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She reaches down to scritch Bogart behind the ears.
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Dan motions at the table, since Izzie is more than welcome to join him.
Bogart, however, might make that difficult - snuffling at her hand in an effort to find more apples even though the dish is quiet well stocked or other tasty treats.
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This is the sound one French pirate makes when, leather-gloved-hands gripping the edge of the Bar, he leans far, far back on his stool.
He appraises the softly snorting pig from beneath a ridged brow, lips pulled down in deep, serious contemplation.
"Did you bring your own meat tonight, my friend?"
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Bogart snorts in agreement.
Or disagreement.
We're not sure which.
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"A what now?"
It's a pig.
What else do you do with pigs but cook them?
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Bogart continues to happily munch at the apples, oblivious to any discussion of his purpose in life.
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This is not a joke. Given recent events, assuming that the Dan's companion is only recently porcine seems perfectly logical to Peter.
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The pig in question doesn't really greet Peter, but it's nothing personal, really.
Apples > Humans
Unless you have Humans WITH Apples. Then it would look like this:
Humans WITH Apples > Apples > Dan
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To Dan, he adds, "How'd it happen?"
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He's a little confused.
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