Natasha Romanoff (
redintheledger) wrote in
milliways_bar2013-11-26 07:14 am
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A woman walks into the bar. Redhead, appears under the age of thirty, wearing a turquoise dress with black polka dots, a pair of stylish black heels. If one looks very close, those might be a pair of Death Stars hanging from her ears; in all other respects, though, the woman looks composed and collected. Maybe even a touch reserved.
Any resemblance to a certain redhead drunkenly singing Queen, and then various Soviet songs a few nights ago is clearly just a coincidence.
Clearly.
Nadine makes her way over to the Bar, and requests not food nor drink, but one Charles Xavier's thesis. The document appearing, she finds herself a table and starts to idly flick through. It's something to read while she decides what to eat.
(And she wants to get an idea of how the man thinks before she decides on how to handle a telepath.)
Any resemblance to a certain redhead drunkenly singing Queen, and then various Soviet songs a few nights ago is clearly just a coincidence.
Clearly.
Nadine makes her way over to the Bar, and requests not food nor drink, but one Charles Xavier's thesis. The document appearing, she finds herself a table and starts to idly flick through. It's something to read while she decides what to eat.
(And she wants to get an idea of how the man thinks before she decides on how to handle a telepath.)
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When she enters, she's bundled up with her shawl pulled over her head and smells of baking bread as she's been staying with a family who owns a bakery. At the counter, she orders some wine and nods to Nadine.
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"Evening."
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It seems - to Nadine at any rate - a little counterproductive. Winter is a time for colours, unless one is blending in.
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"No, I agree but Winter has never suited me."
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