Visiting post for Autor

[guppy_sandhu]

Because someone took a twenty foot tumble off a flying carpet, Autor has been in overnight for head injury observation.

Feel free to come pester him when he wakes up. Or draw on his face while he sleeps, whatever works.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

Autor blinks at him, then manages to get into a sitting position without aggravating his sore arm. "You spoil me, Bossuet. Remind me to come visit you if you're ever under the weather. Thank you," the boy says, surprised. "I can use the arm--it's no longer broken--but it is still sore. What is sudoku?

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Sudoku," he says, as he sets up a cup of tea and arranges the pain au chocolat, "is a very clever pencil game. You're arranging numbers in a grid, so that you don't repeat a digit within a row or a column, or within one of the smaller grids--oh, it sounds miserable, but it's not really mathematical at all. There's another sort of puzzle, addition, but--"

Erm. He clears his throat and looks sheepish. "I may have discovered a new vice, that's all."

[herr_bookman]

Autor watches him, nodding as he listens. "And you come and share it with me," he teases, half-smile growing larger on his lips. "It sounds fascinating, though I warn you that I might become a bit obsessed with it, as is my wont. The point is to fill up the grid?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"As vices go, I think it's a safe one to try out." His eyes crinkle up in a smile. "Yes, here, let me show you--" Lesgle opens up the little rough-paper book and gives a more detailed explanation. These grids here, see, and this larger grid, and you don't repeat the digits this way or that way, etc., etc. "Er. And I asked the Bar for a book of crossword puzzles in a suitable language. It's amazing how much you can talk with someone here and not know what language they speak."

[herr_bookman]

"Ooh," Autor says, about the sudoku grid. He grins about the language issue. "I'll be amused to see which one she gave you. I speak several, including French, though German is my primary."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"That explains the German, then. They're a word puzzle; you fill in the letters of a word that answers the clue. We didn't have those in my day either. I'm not sure the 1830 revolution would have gotten anywhere at all if we had; we'd all have been busy asking one another word for 'freedom,' seven letters, starts with L?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor snorts quietly, highly amused. "That would have been a sight to see. I suspect I'll be wrapped up in these as well--they sound like a ridiculous amount of fun," the boy says, bending his head. "Thank you for bringing them to me. Crosswords, you said? That sounds like an argument."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Doesn't it, though? But it's a solitary combat, I assure you: you're armed with a pencil, against another grid on paper." He flips open the crossword book now to show the sort of thing. "You're welcome. I hope I wasn't making a mistake, though: you can still write?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor blinks. And blinks again. "I... I should be able to," the boy says, raising his arm with a wince. He wiggles his fingers, and clenches a fist, keeping his expression as neutral as he can. "Yes. I can write."

Not without a great deal of pain, but that's never stopped him before. He releases his fists and lets his arm rest, and leans over to look at the crossword grids. "And the black squares mark where the words begin and end. Hm! How did you find these games?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"It's the very devil, not being able to use your arm. I broke one once. Here, did they give you anything for pain?"

What, Lesgle is totally qualified to suggest painkillers.

"--And I asked the Bar, of course. I came whining to her on a rainy day, Ba-a-arrrr, isn't there anything to do-o-o-o-?"

[herr_bookman]

"They must have," Autor says, slowly waggling his fingers again, "for I'm not a puddle of goo on the floor. How did you break yours?"

Lesgle's description of his asking Bar for games forces the kid to cover his mouth and swallow his loud laugh, his shoulders shaking with amusement. "Oh, Shiva wept, Bossuet."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Well, just so long as Joly doesn't come and scold me for urging his patient into setting back his recovery. He is a terrible scold, don't you know; I live in terror of his slightest reprimand. --Hm, well, it's a wonder I only broke one arm, once. I fell off a diligence, traveling between Paris and Armentières. I was sitting on the top, you see, and we hit a bad patch of the road, and everyone tumbled over onto his neighbor--only I was at an end, with no neighbor to tumble onto, so I had to tumble off."

It's good to see Autor laugh. Some things might be going wrong in Bossuet's life right now, but at least he can still cheer up a friend.

[herr_bookman]

"We all live in terror of Joly," Autor says sagely, completely solemn.

Then he relaxes again, listening to Bossuet's story. "Oh, good heavens, I'm so sorry about that. And they didn't even have the magic or technology that they do here, so you were probably laid up for weeks." the boy says. "I assume your friends cheered you, like you're so kind enough to do for me?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"He is capable of being terrible." Bossuet smiles comfortably to himself. But they shouldn't tease, he thinks. Joly is brave.

He clears his throat. "--Weeks, yes. I was headed in altogether the wrong direction, from Paris to Armentières. But yes, in fact, they took turns coming out to visit. Braving a fierce grandmother and a maiden aunt."

He stretches. "I shouldn't keep you up. But is there anything else I can fetch or carry while you're here?"

[herr_bookman]

Joly is brave, Autor would agree.

"No, thank you," the boy says with a comfortable smile of his own. Bossuet has a way about him that puts Autor at ease, and he can't quite put his finger on why, but he appreciates it. And he does need food, but Bossuet has already been so kind to him, and he can acquire that himself.

"I appreciate your coming, Bossuet. You are a true friend, and I hope to see you bartending again when I am fully mended."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Ahhh--" Bossuet waves a hand in a don't make me get all sentimental gesture, and pats Autor's uninjured shoulder lightly. "I dare say Bar will put me to work again, yes. --Well, well. You rest up, Autor, and try not to break anything else for a bit, yes? I'll let myself out."

Autor, he thinks, is an excellent young fellow.

And possibly almost as unlucky as he is himself.

[herr_bookman]

Autor grins at him, tilting his head in a manner quite similar to a cocky puppy. "Thank you again, Bossuet. Take care, and next time we meet, I'll have finished this book of crosswords."

[OOC: Ah! Thank you so much for this thread! Bossuet is wonderful.]