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[mattersverymuch]

[It's been so many years since the marquis was young that he'd almost forgotten what it was like. He had been so small, ill-fed and underweight, and so easily broken. Which, really, explains a lot about what he's become - none of which he particularly wanted explained to the Barge as a whole.]

[To distract himself somewhat from this unfortunate reality, he has begun work on a compendium of stories, as he has nothing else to do with his time. Much of his work is done in the library, but much is also done in the CES, which becomes, variously, an abandoned city in a mishmash of styles, a thick, temperate, and foggy hardwood forest, and a riverside. He works mostly from memory and attempts comprehensiveness, though his writings as late veer toward tales of the trickster.]

Comments

[deadly_ned]

[It's a little bit like cheating, when the Piemaker sends his beloved dog Digby down to the library with a picnic basket tied around the golden retriever's neck. The basket has pie, of course, but also sandwiches, chips, and (against the Piemaker's better judgement) a bottle of wine.

He won't seek out the Marquis and keep pretending they're friends.

But he will pretend to be penpals for a while]

[mattersverymuch]

[It takes him a moment to tear himself away from his work, another to recognize the dog. Then he sighs, but since food is food, he removes the picni basket, then extracts all of its contents but the wine and replaces it with a note: I don't drink.. Which is as close to a thank you as it's possible to get from him.]

[The unfortunate fact is that they are, more or less, friends, as far as the definition can extend to the marquis de Carabas. He would hesitate before killing Ned for his own benefit, and will absolutely never admit this.]

[deadly_ned]

[With a wag of his tail, Digby's set off to deliver the near-empty picnic basket back to the Piemaker.

Fifteen minutes the dog is back, this time with a glass bottle of chocolate milk. The Piemaker is a quiet person who avoids confrontations, but he is ridiculously stubborn]

[mattersverymuch]

[Is this really happening, he wonders, sighing and staring at the bottle of milk. Somehow this is the strangest thing that's occurred on the Barge thus far.]

[After a moment's thought, he replaces the milk with exaggerated care and closes up the basket, this time without a note.]

[deadly_ned]

[Satisfied with a mission completed, Digby moves under the table and lies down at the Marquis' feet, just as silent and annoyingly present as his master can be.

No. He won't be moving.]

[mattersverymuch]

[. . . Of course he won't.]

[The marquis sighs again. This is more for show than anything else, though. He much prefers the company of animals to that of people, and so even though dogs aren't nearly as clever as rats, he'll allow this minor power play on Ned's part. Or Digby's. Whoever's.]

[So he eats what's been sent, because food is food, and ignores the source diligently.]

[deadly_ned]

[By and by, Digby seems to inch closer, until his head is lying on the Marquis' knee, watching him as he works]

[mattersverymuch]

[What. No. He glances down at the dog, then rolls his eyes and gets back to his work. He is not going to pet you, Digby.]

[deadly_ned]

[That's okay. Digby will stay still, head still on the marquis' lap. As if you thought he'd move.

From behind the marquis, the Piemaker approaches after a few hours]

Digby, come.

[mattersverymuch]

[By this point, he's more or less done with what he's planned to get done this afternoon and is just looking over his notes. He has also disposed of the trash from what's been brought, and there is absolutely no evidence that there was ever food here.]

[He glances up at Ned's approach.]

Oh. It's you.

[Hmph.]

[deadly_ned]

Yeeeah.


I'm sorry. I.

I thought he'd go back to my room.

[Digby does not, in fact, come. Digby stays right where he is, head in the marquis' lap]

[mattersverymuch]

Did you really.

[He does not actually believe this. Although he's paying more attention to Digby than to Ned right now, since Digby is still touching him.]

What a well-trained dog you have.

[deadly_ned]

He sort of.

Does what he wants.


...Digby, off.

[Finally, Digby listens and trots away from the marquis]

...So, I, um.

How are things?

[mattersverymuch]

That was a terrible segue.

[He brushes off his pants primly.]

In what capacity are you asking this question?

[deadly_ned]

In the capacity of a stern and overbearing warden harassing an inmate's peace of mind for the purposes of interrogation.

[mattersverymuch]

[Okay, that almost gets a laugh. Almost.]

Well, in that case.

Things are going swimmingly.

[deadly_ned]

Good.

Good, I'm.

I'm glad.



....


I....really wanted a picture of your little self.

[mattersverymuch]

[He doesn't say anything for a minute, just drums his fingers on the table.]

You were doing really well for a minute there.

[deadly_ned]

I know. But you would have eventually figured out my true purpose for showing up and then it would have just been worse.


...



You were pointlessly adorable.

[mattersverymuch]

I was just small. Not the same.

[deadly_ned]

Small things are adorable. It's a fact of life. Like gravity.

[mattersverymuch]

You were also small, and not adorable. Only obnoxious.

[deadly_ned]

It was the haircut. I can't make excuses for it.

[mattersverymuch]

No, it was all of you.

[deadly_ned]

I'm sorry.