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When John Mandrake, Assistant to the Head of Internal Affairs, enters the bar, it is clear he didn't expect to see it again.
He even forgets to hide the startled expression on his face for a moment.
Several days had passed since his first visit to the bar at the end of the universe.
This is not to say that the boy has put the bizarre place out ( Read more... )
He even forgets to hide the startled expression on his face for a moment.
Several days had passed since his first visit to the bar at the end of the universe.
This is not to say that the boy has put the bizarre place out ( Read more... )
Comments 190
With Draco watching the baby, Mia can actually do some semblance of her job. Not that she's dressed for it, as most in the field of witchcraft tend to forgo the striped socks. Call it Business Casual.
"Or you could always jump back there and help yourself, but that's likely a ticket to get roped into tending the bar."
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His expression is very carefully blank, even if his inner thoughts are something along the lines of, 'Bwuh?'
"Excuse me?"
(Something niggles in the back of his mind.)
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She stands up and tucks her pencil behind her ear.
"Miss Bar is sentient. She hears your order and provides it for you."
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And he kind of hates that he hadn't known about this ... Miss Bar.
He'd only been served by waitrats - and there will likely have to be corrections on his interpretations of them as well.
(He believes they're imps and foliots who have taken the physical forms of rats.)
"The bar is ... female? Is there a demon trapped within the wood?"
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John is very familiar with tones like that. He often employs such a tone, in fact, amongst several people in his department when he knows he's right.
It doesn't mean he has to like it.
"Then perhaps you could explain just what sort of bar it is."
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"It's not the sort of magic they have in my world - so I don't really know if it's common elsewhere. But I have been coming here for years, so of course I'm quite accustomed to it."
Kindly: "It isn't your fault, of course, if it's new to you."
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It just looks like a big wooden bar.
But so much of what he'd experienced in the short couple hours here has shown him that it's hard to make any clear conclusions.
(Now he's starting to wonder about those waitrats he'd seen last time.)
"It isn't the sort of magic from my world either," he agrees. "Not unless there's a demon trapped within it, forced to serve all the patrons of this place."
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The question itself is not asked from behind the bar by any sort of trained professional, rather from the young man a few seats over who is drinking, and not slurping, a chocolate milkshake.
Scorpius has, most certainly, never manned a bar before in his life - however interesting that now sounds to him! - but he is mostly nice enough to help anyone that doesn't know how Bar works yet.
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Hm. That looks rather tasty. Being a boy without much of a childhood to speak of (not unless humiliation and trauma by demons count), he has never had the opportunity to try one.
But he would like to think he's past the appropriate age to be seen drinking a milkshake.
He's a member of parliament, after all.
"A cup of tea to start," he says. "It isn't as though I haven't got any money either."
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Too late.
Scorpius, with a shrug, points to the steaming cup of tea now at the other boy's elbow. But Bar is usually good at serving the customer what they want, right?
"You can pay as you go, if you want, but I find it easier to put it on tab. Not everyone carries their money all the time."
He mostly only carries his when it's a Hogsmeade weekend.
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"...
"- how."
It seems that the surprise of insta-drinks, exactly suited to fit his tastes (all the way down to the choice of china) has succeeded in rendering the boy speechless.
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And my.
He wasn't aware people (or non!people) could hang about up there.
"What?"
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He turns his gaze from the strange man to eye the mahogany wood, not exactly sure what he's looking for to distinguish its ... female features.
Perhaps it's similar to ships always being referred to as female.
"... could I have a cup of tea, please?"
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