Remind Myself That Times Could Be Much Worse [Milo]

[Westley Roberts]

Trenale was more or less exactly as Westley remembered. It was now, anyway. Apparently he'd been one of the very last, if not the absolute last, to arrive before the place magically did away with the remains of its own mess, returning to life as if nothing remotely traumatic had happened to the town or to anyone in it. If only the residents had the ability to do the same, things in general would be far less dramatic around here.

He'd hardly been here any time at all, and already, his days began with a to-do list. Today, for example, he'd risen early from the sofa bed Della and Alyss had designated to him, turned it back into a sofa, prepared breakfast for Victoria (letting the girls sleep in was the least he could do), then headed for town when they all went their separate ways. There was a mission behind his setting up residence now: Della's emancipation from Hades. Just because he had no idea where to start didn't mean a thing like that was going to stop him. Had it ever?

The minor details came first. Everything else would be far simpler that way. By lunchtime, he'd finished re-equipping himself for the era in which he once again found himself living: a working cell phone in his pocket, the gold he'd brought converted to bills, and his scabbard replaced with one less likely to disintegrate the moment he drew his sword. (The terrible quality of nearly everything in Florin could really never be stressed enough.) Passing a café, he realized he hadn't yet eaten, and decided to duck in for a meal before the day got away from him entirely. It would be far easier to form a solid plan if the entire population didn't begin to look like turkey legs that walked upright on their own. 

At the counter, he ordered a corned beef on rye and a serving of chips, thanking the employee as he headed toward the register. Then he recognized the person ahead of him in line. They'd never met before, but the man's face was everywhere these days. There was no mistaking him.

"Excuse me." Closing the distance between them, Westley got out his wallet, turning a smile toward the cashier. "I'd like to pay for this man's order as well." The girl nodded, reconfigured the total, and Westley handed her exact change without sparing more than a glance to count, adding a few bills to the tip jar. "Thank you." Facing the man he'd undoubtedly just baffled, he delivered a friendly clap on the shoulder. "The pleasure is mine, Headmaster Thatch." Then he offered a hand. "Westley Roberts. I've looked forward to meeting you."

[Milo Thatch]

Well, this was certainly a first. Milo had experienced varied reactions to his new position. There was Gaston, with his outright indignant rage at having been defeated. There was more than one who the hell is Milo Thatch, in addition to the very vocal one that had been overheard at the initial announcement. There had been a few congratulations from people who knew him, which had warmed his heart. But he certainly couldn't say that anyone had offered to buy him lunch before, and he found himself a little flustered. "Oh gosh," he said, flushing slightly. "Thanks, that's great of you, I appreciate it." He stepped back from the counter as Westley moved forward to pay, and stood a little awkwardly before the other man turned back to him.

He shook the hand offered to him with a good amount of enthusiasm; Milo had endured enough handshakes of late that he had started to get a little better at his own end of the arrangement. He didn't think Westley was going to try to maim him like Gaston some people, but you could never be sure, and he had been told that a firm handshake was a sign of leadership or something like that.

"Just Milo, please, no need for all that," he said quickly. "Westley. I know your name." It took him a minute to figure out where he had heard it, but thanks to his access to various records, he finally remembered at least whose name he knew him in connection with. "You know Alyss, right?" And that would mean Della, by extension, but Milo's own personal link with Alyss was much more substantial there, so that was what he went with. "It's a..." Westley had said the pleasure was his already, and Milo hated redundancy. "It's great to meet you, thanks again for..." He gestured towards the cash register. "You didn't have to do that."

[Westley Roberts]

Westley'd never been the sort to judge a book by its handshake—Buttercup, for example, daintily clasped fingers like her acquaintance's bones were made of china, which did nothing to reveal that she was sharp-tongued enough to eviscerate a grown man—but if he had been, he'd be very impressed. As he was by the fact that this headmaster didn't appear to care much for titles. Westley had always been of the opinion that those who cared little for titles should always be the ones to hold them, and those who care too much were to be avoided at all costs. Everything so far was a wonderful sign of things to come, if you asked him.

"Milo, then," he amended easily. Then it was his turn to be impressed. He hadn't expected a soul at this school beyond Della and Alyss to know or remember his name. It was a pleasant change of pace, not only to have his name precede him somewhere for once (not counting his marauding back home), but to see this place in the hands of someone who remembered the little details that past headmasters had thought unimportant, like the identities of human beings. "Yes, I do indeed," he replied. "She's a very dear friend of mine. Roommate now, in fact. And she and Della both speak very highly of you. Finally a headmaster with his priorities straight; this I had to see for myself."

The line was moving along behind them. Westley took two steps away from the register to free up the space, posting himself in front of an unoccupied patch of counter to wait for his food. "Speaking of, I've been meaning to thank you," he said to Milo. "For the position I've been granted. I don't claim to know whether it's you or Grayle that determines who ends up on the faculty, but I have yet to be cautioned or fired, so either way, I have to assume it means I have your vote of confidence. I'm more grateful than you know, especially considering it seems I'm going to be here for a while." His sandwich arrived in a basket on a plastic tray, and he took it from the employee with a nod of thanks. "You won't be let down. And you'll have my support in any future endeavor."

[Milo Thatch]

Thank him? Would wonders never cease, Milo thought, he had only been on this job for a week or two and had spent most of his time settling in, so he hadn't even thought he'd done anything of consequence just yet. Apparently it was the job thing, though, which Milo didn't even think he was fully responsible for. He was sure that if he knew a person was an evil villain or otherwise up to no good, he would have some sway in getting them removed from their position, and he had every intention of doing so if the situation called for it, but he had seen nothing particularly alarming in the records yet. People came from some questionable backgrounds, but as long as it didn't look like they were here to endanger the students or seduce them away into darkness, Milo was willing to give anyone who seemed dedicated a chance to make a difference.

Support in future endeavors, though, that was a good thing to have. Especially with Gaston running around behaving the way he was; they might have struck an uneasy peace recently but that didn't mean Milo was letting his guard down, and the more people who believed in him and his competency, the better.

"That's very much appreciated," he said, sincerely. "Things have been a little weird around here since we all got back, it's..." He pondered the words for a moment before going on. "It's like the school knows we're back now, though, so hopefully we'll all be here for a while. I know I'm not planning to go anywhere any time soon." He grabbed his lunch from the counter as soon as it was placed there, then turned back to Westley. "Did you have anywhere you needed to be, or would you want to join me? I've got some stuff I've been wanting to run by some of the staff, especially the ones with expertise in your area."

[Westley Roberts]

Now that Milo mentioned it, things had felt particularly strange since he'd returned...and he'd returned later than the others, so chances were high that things had been much stranger for much longer for everyone else. Westley hadn't noticed to any substantial degree, personally, probably due to the fact that things were always strange here. It seemed it would be far stranger had things suddenly ceased being strange.... He needed to stop pondering the word 'strange' now. It was starting to lose all meaning.   

"That's a relief to hear," he said honestly. It was comforting to know that not only did the school have, very possibly, its first-ever sane and rational headmaster at the helm, but that he also had no intentions of abandoning ship. Considering that very thing had somewhat screwed them all over at the end of the war. Della and Alyss—Della more than Alyss, really—still seemed quite disappointed in Hermes over that one, and Westley couldn't blame them in the least. There was no room in leadership for cowardice. And it was especially admirable of Milo, who Westley knew to be more scholar than fighter, to turn out to be the one with the integrity to see the job through. For such a seemingly ordinary man to have the courage that various wizards and gods had not? Westley knew he'd put his faith in the right man. He'd always been a fair judge of character that way.

He'd been prepared to bid the headmaster a pleasant afternoon and go their separate ways, had Milo been after some peace and quiet, but Westley would be lying if he'd said he hadn't hoped for an invitation. He was always in the market for new friends and allies, especially ones as pleasant and conversational as Milo was turning out to be, and what's more, he had a distinct feeling in the back of his mind that they'd nowhere near exhausted the subjects they had in common. It was good to know he wasn't alone in that, and the promise of his first duties as faculty intrigued him.

"I'm free as a bird at the moment," Westley said with a smile. "I'd love that, thank you." Looking around the rather busy establishment, he spotted a booth just opening up, and gestured toward the table. "After you." Tray in hand, he followed suit.