Lydia Bennet

What we're all here for.

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Between the holidays and being a cat, Rey hadn't been to Supper Club in a bit, and she'd missed it.

"Oh, I liked this place!" she said when she recognized her surroundings.

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"I remembered it being quite popular," Lydia agreed. "And there's a whole--apparently it's named after an author?" No. Not quite. "It's his birthday, or--was." Details.

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"Fitting, then," Rey smiled. "How have you been? I feel like it's been a while."

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"It's quite nice, isn't it?" Henry agreed. "Hullo."

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"Hi, Henry," she smiled. "How are you tonight?"

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"I'm doing all right," Henry said, which was broadly speaking right, and also specifically not true, but well, it got complicated and he chose not to think about it. "How about yourself? Haven't seen you in a bit."

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"It's been busy," she said. "And then I was a vat, so that takes up a lot of time. Things are much more normal now."

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"Cozy!" Harley exclaimed, immediately upon entering. "I feel like I should be puttin' on an old timey accent!"

Harls, baby, half the supper club regulars were 'old timey', consider your audience.

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"What would that entail?" Lydia, confused, asked in her old timey accent.

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"Well, like," Harley started - and launched into something that was half Dick van Dyke, half bad pompous period drama, and largely incomprehensible.

Seriously, some of those words were not words.

Didn't stop Harley from grinning like she'd done a great job. "Yanno," she said, once the assault on the ears of anyone who knew anything about consistent accents was over, "like that."

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"Oh," Lydia said a bit faintly. "Yes, perhaps...not that..." She quite liked being able to understand people.

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Harley shrugged, unfazed. "I can also just keep to my normal lack of accent! No problem!"

Yes. She did actually seem to think she didn't have an accent. The exaggerated Brooklyn of it all (in itself a little old timey, actually) was just in everyone else's heads!

"It don't make me feel as fancy, of course, but I can make up for that by orderin' something that feels fancy."

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"Like what?" Henry piped up.

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Henry. Henry, please don't subject everyone to this again.

"Well, you know," Harley said, with much unmerited confidence, before giving him a little example. Again, many of the words - and there were many words - were made up on the spot, but at least it was less Dick van Dyke, this time...? Unfortunately, it seemed to veer weirdly cowboy, instead.

And kind of Australian?

Lord knows what any of it sounded like through whatever was doing translating for Henry, in any case.

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"No, I... don't know," said Henry, who was Czech and yet, in English, had a West Country sort of accent to his voice. "That's why I asked."

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"Well I just gave ya an example, you're welcome!" Harley replied cheerfully.

Her 'example' had likely not cleared anything up at all.

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Yeah, poor Henry looked hopelessly lost.

"You did?"

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"Yeah," Harley said, but her confidence was starting to waver. Or at least she was frowning in confusion at him. "Maybe it was the wrong one era for ya. You are kinda old timey yourself, you know."

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"Depends," Henry said, tilting his head. "'Cos if you ask me, it's more that you're future-timey, if you get my meaning."

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"But am I?" Harley retorted, tilting her head but in the opposite direction. "Is this a future time that we're in? Can it be the future if you're here and not in last Tuesday?"

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"What's last Tuesday have to do with it?" Henry asked, blinking.

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"Well, whatever time you came from," Harley replied, waving a hand. Not really explaining, as usual. "Last Tuesday, the middle ages, it's all the past now."

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"Or the future," said Henry, who was quite lost now but determined to roll with it.

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"But why would you look at today from last Tuesday's perspective?"

Yes, she was back on that.

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"I do enjoy a good tavern," Henry said upon entry, looking... mostly jolly.

He'd left Mutt in the dorms and was perhaps a touch concerned the dog might do something.

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That sounded like a problem for Erasmus, which was what he got for not coming to Supper Club. "Mr. Henry! Good evening!"

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"God be with ye, Lydia," Henry greeted. He should... probably figure out what the opposite of the 'Mr' thing she kept doing was, shouldn't she? Oh well. "How has life been treating you?"

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What we're ostensibly here for.

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