Dining Out
Here is my 100crackfics table
Title: Dining Out
Author: entropy_house
Fandom: Blakes 7
Claim: Kerr Avon
Word Count: 292
Prompt: 63-Burp
Rating and Warnings: Hah, I laugh at warnings.
Synopsis: If I tell you the synopsis, I'd have to kill you.
Dining Out
The headwaiter hurried over to the President's table. "I'm dreadfully, sorry, sir, but this establishment doesn't allow breast-feeding in the dining areas."
Avon looked up from Mark and smiled. Blake sighed and continued buttering a croissant. Mark sucked louder. He always seemed to his enjoy his milk more when Avon was also enjoying himself.
"Where would you suggest?"
At Avon's silky-soft reply Vila ducked down under the table, pretending to look for a dropped napkin, but really just getting out of the way of any stray ammo.
"Well, sir, most wo... most people use the facilities."
Soolin smirked. The man was doomed. He shouldn't have tried euphemism. She poured herself a glass of wine.
Avon's smile widened. "You have a separate lounge for breast-feeding? Fine, bring my dinner there."
"Ah, well, no sir. I actually meant the lavatory facilities."
Tarrant decided it was becoming decidedly chilly, so he buttoned up his bullet-proof vest.
"Oh." Avon stood up, shifting Mark to a more comfortable position and freeing his right hand. "You mean that the President's child should dine in a toilet?"
Dayna moved her plate over slightly. She didn't want the headwaiter falling into her soup.
Deva got up, ran around the table, grabbed the white-faced headwaiter and took him off to the corner for a hasty whispered conference. They returned to the table. Avon stood, smiling, hand hovering an inch above the gun. Mark continued to suckle noisily.
"Ah, sir, I am dreadfully sorry for the misunderstanding. That was a rule of the old management. As a small token of our apologies, may we offer a complimentary dessert?"
Avon smiled and sat down again, shiftng the baby to his shoulder for his burping. "Yes. Death by Chocolate." Mark burped like a hommick.
Title: Dining Out
Author: entropy_house
Fandom: Blakes 7
Claim: Kerr Avon
Word Count: 292
Prompt: 63-Burp
Rating and Warnings: Hah, I laugh at warnings.
Synopsis: If I tell you the synopsis, I'd have to kill you.
Dining Out
The headwaiter hurried over to the President's table. "I'm dreadfully, sorry, sir, but this establishment doesn't allow breast-feeding in the dining areas."
Avon looked up from Mark and smiled. Blake sighed and continued buttering a croissant. Mark sucked louder. He always seemed to his enjoy his milk more when Avon was also enjoying himself.
"Where would you suggest?"
At Avon's silky-soft reply Vila ducked down under the table, pretending to look for a dropped napkin, but really just getting out of the way of any stray ammo.
"Well, sir, most wo... most people use the facilities."
Soolin smirked. The man was doomed. He shouldn't have tried euphemism. She poured herself a glass of wine.
Avon's smile widened. "You have a separate lounge for breast-feeding? Fine, bring my dinner there."
"Ah, well, no sir. I actually meant the lavatory facilities."
Tarrant decided it was becoming decidedly chilly, so he buttoned up his bullet-proof vest.
"Oh." Avon stood up, shifting Mark to a more comfortable position and freeing his right hand. "You mean that the President's child should dine in a toilet?"
Dayna moved her plate over slightly. She didn't want the headwaiter falling into her soup.
Deva got up, ran around the table, grabbed the white-faced headwaiter and took him off to the corner for a hasty whispered conference. They returned to the table. Avon stood, smiling, hand hovering an inch above the gun. Mark continued to suckle noisily.
"Ah, sir, I am dreadfully sorry for the misunderstanding. That was a rule of the old management. As a small token of our apologies, may we offer a complimentary dessert?"
Avon smiled and sat down again, shiftng the baby to his shoulder for his burping. "Yes. Death by Chocolate." Mark burped like a hommick.