Test Drive Meme!

[hey35andholding]

HOW TO PLAY:

* Tag into this post with a pup you're thinking of apping to the bar with a brief EP set within Milliways and/or its universe. You can be new to the game, or simply want to test out a fresh pup.

* If you already play at Milliways, feel free to tag in with your own characters and interact with the new pups. You can also post your own EPs for these new characters to thread with.

* Mingle, post, and have fun!

Comments

[operates_cobra]

There's nobody over Henry's shoulder--it looks like he was coming out of the mayor's house--but he immediately smiles brightly.

Awkwardly closing the book as he trots over, his eyes are visibly relieved. "Emma! I was just leaving to go see Dr. Hopper and then see you! But then I was here."

[notinthebook]

"Yeah, it kinda happens like that."

She's grinning, though, hands on her hips as she looks down at him.

It only makes sense Henry would find his way here eventually; the only surprise is that he wasn't the first one here. "Come on, want a hot chocolate?"

[operates_cobra]

"Yes!"

He grins back up at her, automatically reaching up to grab one of her hands.

After a moment of looking around, he asks, "But why'd it happen? Is it the spell breaking?" After all, doors magically going somewhere else is precisely the thing that wouldn't happen in Regina's controlled world.

[notinthebook]

It's funny how that can feel so natural. Her fingers curl around his, and she looks down at him with a faint frown.

"Oh...no, Henry. No, I don't think it's got anything to do with the curse." Wetting her lips, she glances around, then crouches to meet him eye to eye, her own wide and earnest.

"But I'll tell you what -- I think this place is magic."

[operates_cobra]

Henry looks back at her, eyes just as earnest and wide.

"Really? Really and truly magic?" He looks so hopeful.

Squeezing her fingers, he adds eagerly, "Well, any kind of magic appearing has to mean something's getting better, right? ...Unless it's black magic." At that thought he looks visibly alarmed. After all, the last thing he wants is something Regina might be able to use.

[notinthebook]

"You tell me, kid. You're the expert."

Straightening, she tugs at his hand with a grin tugging at her lips.

"We'll get you that hot chocolate, and then you can tell me what you think, huh?"

That hope on his face squeezes at her heart, and she can't help herself, she's just got to show off the Bar's -- well, if it's not magic, what is it? -- ability, so she can see that look of absolute delight he gets whenever something amazing happens. "Over here," she tells him, leading him to the bar and letting him get up on a stool.

"Okay. Order something."

[operates_cobra]

"Okay."

After a moment of looking serious, thoughtful, and as much like The Expert as he can manage, he nods. He follows her to the bar, determined to look as confident as he can manage, the way she does. He wants to be The Expert for her, make her proud of him.

"But I'll probably need to hear more about it. It might not be what it pretends to be."

After clambering up onto the stool, Henry regards the Bar dubiously. Finally, he says decisively, "Hot chocolate, please. With cinnamon. ...And snicker-doodles."

As long as he's at it, he'll see what he can get away with.

[notinthebook]

He's sure the best expert she knows, so she nods as she slides up onto a stool herself.

"I'll tell you everything I know. It's not much, but it's enough for you to get a start on it, easy."

He's such a smart kid, he'll probably grasp the whole thing about a million times faster than she did.

But first, she waits, expectant, for the Bar to do her thing, and she doesn't disappoint: hell, she even offers up a hot chocolate for Emma, too, in a way fancier cup than usual, handle curved into a gracefull scroll and thin porcelain decorated with pretty designs.

The cookies look pretty good, too.

She doesn't notice right away, though: she's too busy watching Henry, her own smile impossible to push away. "Pretty awesome, right?"

[operates_cobra]

With Henry, it might be less grasping what's actually going on and more fitting it into exactly what he already thinks about Storybrooke to make it fit.

Then again, he's right about that situation.

His cup is far less decorative than Emma's: pretty or not, he's a ten-year-old and an enthusiast. Instead he gets a sturdy, plain clay mug, but the whipped cream and cinnamon are as exquisite as the other cup's designs.

He smiles even wider. "That is so awesome. How does it do that?"

As he asks, he reaches for a cookie. Yummy.