(Untitled)

[river_meimei]

River comes in from the lake area looking windblown, slightly chilly despite her long duster, and entirely cheerful. (Boukephalos is a friend who deserves catching up with, just like any other. Unlike friends who aren't horses, 'catching up with' means 'joining for a gallop around the lake

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[doesntsaymuch]

Teller eventually grew bored of Penn, and started to wander around a bit. Eventually, his wandering took him to the bar, where he fetched up some Rocky Road ice cream (his favourite, lately).

He likes it right out of the big, paper bucket. It's best that way.

He also has an extra spoon. Because ice cream, no matter what flavour, is best when shared.

[river_meimei]

River is, at least apparently, concentrating on having a sip of hot chocolate.

mmmmm hot chocolate.

She's being less messy than someone who doesn't know her might think, but all the same she's acquired a very thin chocolate mustache.

[doesntsaymuch]

Oh, look! A familiar face!

Teller decides to join River, offering her one of his spoons.

Try some of this. It's also chocolate, and it is delicious.

[river_meimei]

River accepts the spoon distractedly.

She spends a long moment scrutinizing the ice cream -- more as if she's working out what it is than as if she's paranoid or dubious about the flavor -- before she nods decisively, and scoops herself out a spoonful.

"Thank you," she offers, careful and deliberate as a child remembering her manners, before she pops it into her mouth.

Ice cream: also an excellent thing!

[visible_sariel]

There's someone aiming for the opposite end of that couch.

That someone has her own mug, though if anyone gets a whiff of the steam, they'll smell mint tea rather than anything chocolate.

There's also a plate of cookies. Did we mention those? Surprise.

[river_meimei]

River beams at her.

It's not really for the cookies, even though cookies are awesome. Hello friend!

[visible_sariel]

Sariel smiles right back - not quite a beam, but definitely bright. That's not about the cookies either, for the record.

One of those is offered, though. It's a star, and it's got green sprinkles. Blame Bar.

"Good evening, River," is the greeting that goes with the cookie. It's a touch formal, but it's not stilted.

[river_meimei]

Ooh.

River leans forward to set her hot cocoa on the coffee table, and then accepts the cookie carefully. (A couple of crumbs fall on the couch anyway, which may or may not have been what River was being careful about.)

"Yes," she says cheerfully. And then, in the same tone, "Thank you."

[bushel_o_apples]

The old man in ragged pirate finery is walking across the Bar from the lake door when he stops, sniffing. He turns his narrowed eyes towards the couch and heads over, stopping a polite distance from the crosslegged girl to bow slightly.

"Excuse me, miss. Is that xocolatl I smell?" There is a glint in his dark eyes, perhaps of amusement.

[river_meimei]

River blinks at him.

...

"No capsaicin," she says, politely, and clearly meant to be a useful answer. In illustration, she holds the mug out to him.

The hot chocolate sloshes inside, melting a little more of the whipped cream bobbing on top.

[bushel_o_apples]

Barbossa is pretty much used to people in Milliways saying all kinds of things what make no sense, so he takes her comment in stride and looks into the mug with a satisfied little smirk.

"And to think not once in all the time I've been a patron did it occur to me to ask the Lady Bar..."

[river_meimei]

"She's very friendly," River contributes encouragingly.

And only a little scoldingly.

"He'll neglect the social center."