"What brings you around these parts, Mr. Wonka?" James asked, walking along a wide path set between two flowering rows of trees. Wonka was at his side, admiring the beauty of the park that James found himself walking through at least once every day.

Wonka stopped gazing around for a second to look at James, then looked back at whatever it was that he was looking at. "Well, I was meandering along," he sighed dramatically, "looking at the sky and thinking about everything, when all of a sudden I came by you. Happy coincidence?"

James raised an eyebrow and grinned, his hands in his pockets. "Aye, that it may be."

Wonka cleared his throat, adjusting his top hat. "Please excuse me," he said quietly and almost regretfully. "Sometimes I don't make any…sense. Although, if I made any sense, I wouldn't be so gosh-darn creative, would I? Oh, I think that was a bit arrogant of me…I tend to make arrogant remarks when I'm excited like this—"

"What, exactly, is there to be excited about, Mr. Wonka?"

Wonka stopped in his tracks, very startled at this question. James walked on a few more steps, seemed to realize Wonka was no longer with him, and turned to face the other man. He frowned.

"Did I say something wrong?" James asked, seeing that Wonka was looking at the ground, his face obscured by the brim of the top hat. He was fidgeting with his cane, and he suddenly jumped.

"I dropped something!"

There was a brief silence as Wonka stooped down to pick up—absolutely nothing. He pinched the air, pretending he had actually picked up something, then stood up, grinning brightly at James. He tilted his head to the right. "Found it!" He put the Invisible Nothing in his pocket and took a few steps to join James's side again.

Just as James was thinking (hypocritically, he recognized) that Wonka was an overgrown child, an actual child ran up to James, shouting his name.

"Mr. Barrie! Mr. Barrie!"

There was a flash of grey, and James was almost knocked off his feet by a giggling little boy who had thrown himself around the older man's waist in a giant hug.

"Well!" James grunted. "Hello to you too, Peter."

The boy—apparently Peter—let James go and smiled cheerfully up at him. When James knelt down to be eye-level with him, Peter said, "George read one of my plays and said I should show it to you." He looked up to see the other man, and his smile faltered a tiny bit. "Who's that?" he whispered.

James smiled and stood up. "Peter, this is Mr. Wonka. Mr. Wonka, this is…Peter…."

Wonka was staring at the boy, his jaw hanging in astonishment. He tilted his head to the right again, his deep violet-blue eyes scanning Peter's face. "You look just like someone I know," he murmured, still gawking. He snapped out of it, reddening slightly. Then he grinned. "You should meet him. His name is Charlie."

Peter tried his best to be polite, but it is rather hard to be polite around a stranger with this particular etiquette. Especially when the stranger has spectacularly perfect teeth. "Sir, I think I've had one or two nightmares about y—"

James laughed nervously and gently covered Peter's mouth with his hand. "Children have astounding imaginations."

Wonka nodded, still grinning. "That's true. You know, Charlie has an amazing thinker in his noggin…."

Gauche, Wonka, James found himself thinking. You are the most confusing man that has ever walked the face of the planet.

I rather like that.

Oh...that was very awkward to write...don't worry, it's going to get awkwarder. -.-' See?