Technically inside the bar. Despite appearances. Hush.

[river_meimei]

Simon's upset.

River -- if she is -- isn't in the same way. It's hard to tell.

What she is is sitting on the floor near the fireplace, between couch and end table. She has a gold bracelet, spangled with bells, lying on the table in front of her. Every so often she touches it, and a soft lilting melody chimes out.

Comments

[river_meimei]

"Get stilts."

River is sage.

Or, you know. Smug and impish.

(She prefers rafters, on the whole, but.)

[mitt-mittson.livejournal.com]

"They're not fest'val people," he tells her, "they're real tall! Not as tall as with stilts, though."

[river_meimei]

"Bump their heads on the ceiling."

River, with elaborate care, places one block on top of another. To watch the process, one might think that this was a balancing act of extraordinary delicacy.

[mitt-mittson.livejournal.com]

"Yep," he agrees, cheerfully. "I'm going to be tall some day too."

Mitt is, for your information, quite small for his age.

[river_meimei]

"It's a biological imperative."

[mitt-mittson.livejournal.com]

"I don't know what a bilogical peartive is," he tells her, stopping in his building.

[river_meimei]

"Lots."

There's a pause, while River bends over to rest her cheek against the floor and examine her two-block tower that way.

"Means it's a guarantee," she adds, without lifting her head.

[mitt-mittson.livejournal.com]

"Like something won't break when y'buy it?"

He's tilting his head to keep at least in the same direction she is.

[river_meimei]

"Increased reliability."

[mitt-mittson.livejournal.com]

"Okay," he agrees, amiably.

He doesn't understand, but it seems a useful tactic.

[river_meimei]

"Yes," River agrees, satisfied, and pushes herself abruptly upright to reach for another block.