multiversallogs | (no subject)

Who: Vimes and YOU?
What: Orly tries to get back into the game by having Vimes wander around.
Where: Around Aspic
When: Today, in the afternoon
Notes: n/a
Warnings: None yet.

In theory, he was off-duty. In practice, he hadn't really managed it. Defaulting to something resembling an on-duty state was one of his oldest habits, and it had been one of the first to reassert itself when he'd ended up here (after becoming mostly nocturnal and before risking smart remarks at superiors). It felt a little like a betrayal of his family, but his family wasn't here, and any old habits that could increase his chances of getting back to them were things he couldn't quite make himself feel guilty about. As long as he didn't go back to learning rude songs so that he could pass out in the gutter singing them, he should be alright. Relatively speaking.

He paused every now and then in this tour of Aspic, stopping on his unofficial beat to twist his feet against the ground. He was still learning the streets here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ivan is in the process of deciding what to do with himself, when he's not hunting or spending time with Ilde. He's decided to just wander a bit this afternoon, watching and learning.

Vimes catches his eye for the odd combination of purpose and idleness he combines. Ivan watches him, discreetly, for a bit, then observes, "You look like a man who needs a hobby, a drink, or both."

The last thing Vimes needs is a drink. But he bites back the urge to snap at the stranger, instead giving the other man an appraising look.

After the moment's pause Vimes shrugs. "I wouldn't say no to a good mug of cocoa." He wouldn't, actually, come to think of it. They don't even have proper tar-black tea at the Sheriff's office, only some horrible variation on Klatchian coffee. And cocoa had been the beverage of choice in the bad old days.

Ivan is almost startled, but then he laughs. "...why not? There are worse things than cocoa." It was unexpected, and he was seldom surprised.

Vimes raises an eyebrow. He hadn't quite been expecting that level of amusement. Or something resembling encouragement. "You know a place?"

"I've been to a coffee shop or two that serve cocoa," he allows, "but I can't say I've sampled it. It's not my typical vice of choice. But I was just making an observation."

Vimes fishes his silver cigar case out of his pocket and removes a slim cigar. "It's harder to get right than you'd think," he comments as he drops the case back into his pocket.

"Most things are." Ivan considered him a moment, then said, "Of course, personal taste also does play a part, I find, in most crafts."

Vimes pulled out a pack of matches and lit the cigar. "That's true enough." He reflected mournfully on the belief some people held that there should be detectable vegetables on BLT sandwiches.

"Right." Ivan considered. "So, what shall I call you? 'Man with a taste for cocoa' is descriptive, but not conversationally efficient."

There was a slight hesitation as he reminded himself he wasn't a Commander here. "Sergeant Vimes."

"I'm Ivan." No title, no surname; he could make one up, but he didn't see the point, here. "Well, Sergeant Vimes, I've nothing in particular to do this afternoon; if you'd like me to show you a likely shop, I suppose I could do a good deed."

Mainly because it amused him, in theory.