(Untitled)

[fairytaleknight]

It's been -- weeks? months? days? a single day repeated over and over? -- since Fakir last came to Milliways. The weather of Goldkronedorf has been sunny and indeterminately warm, except twice when ominous clouds hovered over the clock tower just for the sake of variety. Mr. Cat has led lessons on pointe technique and pas de deux and demonstrated

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[hadyougoing]

One Ava Wilson, in smart slacks and a decidedly slouchier t-shirt, is carrying a small stack of books down to the Bar. She sets them down, hastily scribbles a note-- Rue: Hope you like them, they're due back in three weeks (more or less), Ava-- and orders some curry (not the body-swapping kind).

Unfortunately, a busy waitrat causes her to nnnearly spill said curry onto--

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

(Nothing has actually spilled, but it was a scarily close call.)

[hadyougoing]

Ava doesn't read too much into that expression, aside from inherent teenager-ness, and nods helpfully. "Vegetarian curry."

She points her spoon in the direction of her own bowl, for the waitrat's benefit. "This is what I got when I asked for it, anyway. I could have been more specific."

[fairytaleknight]

"Mmm?" Translated out of Grunt, Fakir's reply probably means something like Oh, really? Please elaborate.

Fortunately, the waitrat is experienced enough to know that Fakir wants whatever Ava has. He, she or it returns a minute or two later with a fresh tray.

[hadyougoing]

Ava's expression brightens.

"You're already miles ahead of me," she says, "at, um ... probably whatever your age is, actually."