Littlefinger, [repeats Rincewind, incredulous. He'd kicked off his sandals so he could bury his feet up to his ankles, a paradox sat sprawled in floral-print beach shorts and an oversized, dusky orange knit sweater. There's a near-empty bottle buried in the beach next to him, its peeling label the current fascination of a small but tenacious fiddler crab.] You're serious? You're not just having a go at me?
[oh, he's going to remember that one, the wizard determines privately. Even if the rest of tonight manages to get pissed away with the liquor, he's holding on to 'Lord Littlefinger'. Absolutely.]
Mm, but no, never. [a beat, and Rincewind lets his gaze drift down to the shoreline where the Luggage is chasing after seagulls, leaving an army's worth of footprints and prompting a cacophany of screeching squawks.] ...Unless murderous boxes count.
Not that I think it's a loss, mind you. I can't even think of who the Porter would think to bring. And to be honest, most of the ones I can think of I'd rather not. Everyone I tend to know either tries to kill me or drag me into danger.
[he reaches for the bottle, avoiding the tiny 'clack' of pincers in his direction when he brushes the crab and the sand away.]
...Except for the Librarian, I suppose, [he allows after a sip.] He's easy to get along with. Tends to keep to himself and the books but still enjoys a drink. You'd like him, I think. Unless you've some prejudice against apes.
no subject
[oh, he's going to remember that one, the wizard determines privately. Even if the rest of tonight manages to get pissed away with the liquor, he's holding on to 'Lord Littlefinger'. Absolutely.]
Mm, but no, never. [a beat, and Rincewind lets his gaze drift down to the shoreline where the Luggage is chasing after seagulls, leaving an army's worth of footprints and prompting a cacophany of screeching squawks.] ...Unless murderous boxes count.
Not that I think it's a loss, mind you. I can't even think of who the Porter would think to bring. And to be honest, most of the ones I can think of I'd rather not. Everyone I tend to know either tries to kill me or drag me into danger.
[he reaches for the bottle, avoiding the tiny 'clack' of pincers in his direction when he brushes the crab and the sand away.]
...Except for the Librarian, I suppose, [he allows after a sip.] He's easy to get along with. Tends to keep to himself and the books but still enjoys a drink. You'd like him, I think. Unless you've some prejudice against apes.