dear_mun | upon contemplating apping to mylittlejamjar

Not a bit, Jeeves! I can fly now. Awfully hard to get in over the head when you can just pop up above the clouds. I think the salient question - if salient is the word I want - is if you're ready for this four-legged number.

Edited 2013-07-14 08:06 (UTC)

I am sure that I will manage, sir.

And Miss Fluttershy?

Er... well, I'm sure she can manage herself, old boy! Self-sufficient sort of beazel. More or less.

And the young master's become rather self-sufficient in the interim, as well. [A masterful segue if ever there was spoke.] Now, I don't want you to go thinking there isn't a place for you in my entourage, but I've become pretty well adapted to the Bohemian lifestyle. I've picked artichokes.

Ah.

Do you not wish to employ me in Equestria, then, sir?

What? No! No no no! No! I mean, yes? I-I mean employment is fully and whole-heartedly upon the table, Jeeves. Stacked up on the very best china with Uncle Tom's entire silver collection ready and waiting for use in the thing should you so choose. There is a minor matter in that quarter, though.

I don't appear to have my savings account here.

That is a dilemma, sir. I suppose I could keep track of unpaid wages and you could relinquish the lump sum once we've return to London.

Oh. Oh, yes! Yes! That would work marvelously. I mean, I have been earning some money. Fetching and flying about, you know? And what's mine is yours, of course. Actually, that rather seems to be a theme where I'm living at the moment.

Bear with me, Jeeves. There are really smashing ponies living here. Birds and beazels from all sorts of universes! It's, well. Do you remember when Bingo was on about that communist girl?

Only too well, sir.

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If he's anything like the Bertie Wooster I I know, you'll be doing the whole place a huge favour, darling.

Just keep him away from, er. Any narcotics.

I had no idea Mr Wooster was an acquaintance of yours... [A slight hesitation, wherein Jeeves assesses Jay's gender] sir.

[Jay noticed the hesitation. Don't think he didn't. He's pulling a displeased face.]

That is one way to put it, darling. Not entirely accurate, but ... close enough, I suppose.

How would you describe it, sir? [Raised eyebrow.]

Edited 2013-07-14 09:33 (UTC)

More warmer that mere acquaintances, darling, that's for certain.

[Raised eyebrow back. And a smirk.]

[Oh, that's a VERY soupy expression you've provoked in him, Jay.

I do hope you realize you've made an enemy.]

I see.

[Right, this is getting a bit boring for Jay.]

He honestly one of the dearest friends I've ever had. But to pre-empt any filthy assumptions you're making, no, I'm not the gentleman he's, ah, stepping out with, darling.

Edited 2013-07-14 10:28 (UTC)

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Like you wouldn't believe. Lives on a hippie farm now. Grows artichokes. Is apparently the leader of a town militia, with a girlfriend and a fiancée who are apparently best friends.

Me and a few others have bets running on how long it takes before he actually learns any bit of street smarts.

[One of these statements is a lie, and several others are half-truths.]

A girlfriend and a fiancée, madam? Not two fiancées?

[It's happened before.]

As far as I know, he's only proposed to one.

You ask me, the other one's the one he'd be happier courtin', seems more his type, real girly-girl shrinking violet. But, eh, no accounting for taste and all that.

[Clearly Jeeves is needed in Equestria.]

Tell me about these fillies.

Like I said, one's a shy little thing, delicate waif, I haven't seen her around much, but what I've seen reminds me of an old friend back home. She works with the local smaller animals right on the edge of the forest, real Snow White type.

As far as the one he's engaged to... nnh.

[Visible discomfort. How to describe Pinkie Pie.]

I've never actually seen them together, but the tabloids keep hinting at it. She's the... real social butterfly type, has to be everypony's friend, but not in the same way as Bertie. Less British, more party-oriented. Actually seems to know her way out of a wet paper bag, unlike your ward.

He isn't my ward, madam. He's my employer. I am Mr Wooster's valet.

You're his keeper. Anything past that is semantics.

Mr Wooster is my employer, miss.

[Sorry, Jeeves, but that answer sounded just like a 'yes' to Pinkie.]

OHMYGOSH that's SO GREAT! I'm gonna have to throw a huge party when you get here, he's gonna be so happy to see you!