fake!mixed_muses

[04_after]

A young boy of about eight walks into Milliways, carefully carrying a small violin case. He stops, uncertain, black dress shoes squeaking slightly against the floor.

After a moment of glancing around -- almost no one is dressed like him, in black dress pants and a tailed coat, with a dark red waistcoat -- he decides to take the moment to explore. His sisters will be waiting for him, but there's still another 20 minutes before they need to be in place, and they don't even need him until the halfway point. (And even then, he's pretty sure they could do fine without him. No one winces when he plays anymore, but he doesn't consider himself terribly good.)

Everyone here looks interesting, but he's glancing around for someone he could maybe ask where here is. After all, he's pretty sure his house doesn't have a restaurant in it. Especially a restaurant with -- the creatures that are acting as waiters, here (he ignores them, politely).

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[3nanashi]

Trowa pays attention to every time the door opens, every time a figure darkens a doorway or crosses the room; it's only common sense. The boy's silhouette doesn't catch his attention any more than any other probably-unarmed child's, but there's a familiar feeli--


. . .



Well.

Milliways does like to play with time.

(He has no logical reason to be so certain this is Quatre, so he's still entertaining other options, but -- all the same, deeper than logic, he's certain.)

[mm_tl]

Well, that person's looking at him. Maybe he can start there?

(The heart of the universe says he's trustworthy, which is comforting. Quatre doesn't talk to strangers by himself much.)

Quatre takes in the man's clothing as he approaches (stopping about two meters away), and decides it's probably best to err towards casual. "Marhaban," he says with a slight smile, hesitates, and adds on "monsieur" just in case he's gone too far; casual with people who aren't his sisters is hard.

[3nanashi]

It's Quatre, who interrupted a battle he was winning to surrender as a friendship overture. Younger or not, Trowa's not really surprised to be greeted.

"Marhaban bik," Trowa answers.

His accent is pretty good, although lower-class than Quatre's. If they spoke at greater length in Arabic, Trowa's syntax -- a little too careful, sometimes awkward or convoluted to avoid words he doesn't know, inconsistent with idioms -- would reveal him to be a foreigner. He can get by for greetings and quick business, though.

Or, by preference, switch to French or (better yet) English. English isn't Quatre's native tongue, and might be even less so at this age, so French might be the easiest middle ground even with Trowa's occasional slip-ups in it.

[mm_tl]

Quatre relaxes slightly, and his smile broadens. He turns to glance back at the door for a brief moment, before returning his gaze to Trowa. (He's careful not to knock his violin case into anything.)

"May I ask where we are?" he asks, "Because I didn't expect this to be here."

He's speaking Arabic as his base, likely to be peppered with French if he finds a sentence that better suits it; because so far Trowa sounds perfectly competent at it to his not-so-well-trained ear, and Arabic is more conversational in the lower classes, he thinks. He's pretty sure they use more of other languages, too, but he's not really confident enough in Danish or German to try that.

[3nanashi]

"It's called Milliways."

Trowa gives him a moment to absorb that, then adds, in French, "It surprises most people. Some people call it magic. You'll be able to get home fine."

Sooner or later. But sooner, one hopes.

Being Bound would be awkward. Workable, but awkward. Especially since Quatre, at this age, is very much a civilian; perceptive, but young, and used to safety nets.

[mm_tl]

Quatre studies him a long moment. (His French has the wrong accent-- one of the right accents for French, he knows, but not for L4.)

"We're not in L4, are we?" He asks, in French also, mouth drawing downwards slightly in thought. He's not sure how that works, but he feels like it's right -- and the creatures acting as waiters would be against ordinance on a colony. And maybe the people who look different around here aren't just in costume.

He's still working on 'magic'.

[3nanashi]

To be fair, Trowa never said that he calls it magic.

He shakes his head.

[mm_tl]

Shh, he's thinking!

"Why do they call it magic?" he asks, setting his violin case down on the seat he's standing next to. "Where are they from?"

Do some people on Earth not believe in science? Can you not believe in science?

"I'm Quatre," he says, and hesitates for a moment, before deciding trust the Universe. "Quatre Winner."

[3nanashi]

"All over," says Trowa, unspecifically but accurately. "It's difficult to reconcile some aspects of Milliways with current understanding of laws of physics. Some people find it more useful to be brief than specific."

. . . Yeah, Trowa is really bad at talking down to kids.

He was treated like a miniature adult when he was young; this is pretty much the pattern he works from. With some alterations.

Also: hmm. The issue of names is slightly problematic.

"Trowa," he says.

"Trowa Barton, from Earth."

Not, notably, L3. (It's accurate, so far as it goes, though it's not the only accurate answer.)

[mm_tl]

"Oh, so they don't really mean it." Quatre says, and while he doesn't exactly approve, that at least makes sense.

"It's good to meet you," he says, adding before Trowa can reply: "I've never been to Earth, but your L4 Arabic sounded good. Do you prefer English?"

He can speak in English. He is kind of proud of this. (His accent is moderately strong.)

[3nanashi]

"I'm better at it," Trowa says calmly. "But French is fine too."

Which one of them is going to get to have a conversation that doubles as language practice? Quatre's choice! (Tiny baby Quatre. It's like talking to one of his nephews, except that he's clearly Quatre too. Luckily, Trowa is good at taking things in stride.)

[mm_tl]

Quatre grins. "Where do you live in Earth?" he asks, quickly. "Is there the -- are you near the ocean?"

[3nanashi]

"I travel," Trowa says.

"Sometimes."

[mm_tl]

Quatre opens his mouth, closes his mouth, and gives Trowa a close look. He travels around Earth, and he's picked up an L4 accent for his Arabic?

"Are you a messenger?"

[3nanashi]

Trowa's amusement is completely invisible.

"I'm in the circus."

[mm_tl]

Quatre's not sure if Trowa's amused at him, or not, but he decides not to take it as an insult. "I've seen one," he says, "in a ... documentary. Do you have -- lions?

"I don't have a job," Quatre admits. "But I go with my father places, sometimes."

[3nanashi]

Trowa nods. "Yeah. Three lions, and an elephant."

"They're all pretty friendly if you approach them right. They're used to humans."

Trowa considers this intuitive. Most people do not.

[mm_tl]

Quatre's eyes widen at the mention of the elephant. "What if it steps on you?"

[3nanashi]

Unruffled, "Don't let it."



. . . Yes.

[mm_tl]

Quatre almost opens his mouth to protest this, considers it, and then tries again.

"But you can't go away from danger to be safe, right? You'd still have an angry elephant for everyone else."

He fidgets with his sleeve slightly, and bites his lip. "I'm glad it's not angry, though."

[3nanashi]

Trowa nods.

"That's why the best way is to make sure it's happy. If an animal's content with its world, it won't try to step on anyone."

This is the pragmatic truth.

Granted, knowing Quatre is probably affecting Trowa's phrasing here. (But less than you'd think. There are reasons why they get along.)

[mm_tl]

Quatre will keep this in mind if he ever meets any wild animals.

As is, he just nods solemnly, and relaxes.

He glances back around Milliways. "Why did they build this?"

[3nanashi]

Trowa shrugs.

Beats him. He could guess, but it would be pure speculation.

[mm_tl]

"Well -- isn't it a business? There must be some market niche they're fulfilling."

He makes a face and pulls a pocket watch out of his waistcoat, checking the time, before tucking it back in. "I should probably go to my concert," he says, reluctant.

[3nanashi]

"I don't think there's a lot of competition in this sector."

The bar-at-the-end-of-the-universe business seems to be something of a monopoly, so far as Trowa can tell.

(Business terminology is not his strongest point, but hanging out in the Winner household builds one's vocabulary nicely in certain areas.)

He nods, though. "Good luck."

Trowa is not really sorry that eight-year-old Quatre isn't spending a great deal of time in Milliways. It's not that he isn't finding this conversation interesting, but -- well. Milliways has a lot of people, with varied levels of competence and morality.

[mm_tl]

Quatre brightens. "Thank you," he says. "I don't have to do much, but it appreciates me."

He pauses, running that sentence back over in his head. "I appreciate it," he corrects, after a moment.

Quatre picks up his violin case carefully, and tilts his head to Trowa. "Good-bye," he says, brightly, "have a good day." And he leaves.

[3nanashi]

"You too."

Have a nice day, enjoy the concert, don't get shot for another four or five years at least.










Yeah. So. That happened.