fandomtownies | The Perk - Tuesday around Lunchtime.

Willow came in carrying an umbrella just in case it rained. She looked around until she spotted Peter. "Sir Peter," she said, giving a curtsey.

Peter stood up when he saw Willow and bowed. "Good afternoon, Lady. How goes it?"

"Very well, thank you," she said, taking a seat. "How was your morning? Were there badgers again?"

"There were no badgers, but a possible badger bite," Peter said with a grin. "I think we saved the little girl though so that's only to the good. What would you like for a drink?"

"Tea, please," Willow said. "And little girl saving is always of the good. Speaking as someone who used to be in that category - little being the no longer applicable term - we appreciate it."

Peter bit his lip to keep from commenting as he went to get a pot of tea and a frozen mocha.

Coming back to the table, he said "please don't tell any other British people I'm not having tea in order to have a coffee milkshake. They'll reject me forever."

"They'll reject you?" Willow teased. "Now I'm wondering if your accent's fake."

Peter attempted a very bad American accent. "You've found me out. I'm actually a cowboy."

Willow giggled. Then pretend pouted. "Darn! I had you figured for a Musketeer!"

"Mais oui, mademoiselle. Surtout, je m'appelle D'Artagnan," Peter swept off a pretend hat and flourished it to Willow. "A votre service."

Willow giggled even harder at this, and was very grateful that she did not just snort tea up her nose. Shen then tried to be serious. "Oh, but where are your friends? Or is this you from an earlier time before you met them? Or possibly a you that is math-challenged?"

"Mes amis, ma chere demoiselle? Ils recherchent une aventure pour la gloire des Musketeers," Peter said, barely keeping a straight face.

It's a good thing he could get himself near a straight face, because Willow certainly could not. "So who would you say got the better deal? Them, out adventuring, or you here with me?"

"C'est la question convenable, n'est pas? Une adventure ou vous, une jolie amie? La seule reponse possible est..." Peter lost it and started laughing.

Willow was giggling even harder. "Okay, no more croissants for you! In fact, let's ban Belgian waffles just to be on the safe side."

Peter tried to look sad. "Pas de croissants? Je suis tres desolee."

Now her cheeks were hurting from laughing. "Poor Musketeer. Maybe there's something else? Possibly an eclair to tide you over?"

Having exhausted his ready supply of French and laughing too hard to try to think of more, Peter replied, "perhaps I might possibly live with your help."

"Shall I get you an eclair of life?" Willow asked. "It's like the breath of life only with more pate a choux."

"You could give me a sip of your tea to help recover my Britishness," Peter said, grinning. "Otherwise I might be forced to call you ma petite chou."

Willow scooted over to hand him her tea. "Here you go. It's just as well you didn't stay French anyway. Cute as the hat was, I have a bad history with frogs."

Peter took a sip of the tea with a grateful smile. "My thanks. Why do you dislike Frogs? Do you still blame them for beheading the King or is it the amphibians that cause you distress."

"Definitely amphibians," Willow said. She shuddered. "They're all hoppy and evil."

"Do toads bother you or just frogs?" Peter asked with almost a straight face.

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Late afternoon