milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There's an Endless in the bar.
It's shocking.
Desire. In the bar. Who would have guessed?
... Well. Perhaps anyone even vaguely familiar with this particular Endless, but that's neither here nor there.

Desire seems to be without intent this evening, just staying at the usual table, smoking the usual cigarette, and a simple glass of champagne in hand.

An undirected Desire is a bored Desire.
Bad news for anyone who wasn't looking to become Desire's evening entertainment...

[OOC: I've had to slowtime because I'm out of practice -- I'll get back to this!]

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[once upon a time, Delia would have seen Roger. Roger in all his glory, before he died. Bearded and bright-eyed and...well.]

[maybe she still wants that Roger]

[maybe she's grown up enough not to]

[maybe when she sits down and smiles, she just sees Desire]

It's been a while.

Desire is much like he was the last time they met, though perhaps not quite the same dandy dressed in the manner of the pretty Eldorne girl's court -- But he still has a smile and a bow for Delia, sliding free of his seat.

"Too long, I think. Could I convince you to honor me with a little visit at my most humble of tables?"

There's laughter in his golden eyes.

[a bright, lovely smile - trademarked, but no less real for it]

I think I might be able to spare some time out of my busy, busy schedule.

"Then I'd count myself lucky."

Desire returns the smile with a grin of his own, sharp and bright: He pulls out a chair for Delia, waiting for her to sit before returning to his own.

Have you been well?

[she asks, spreading her skirts to avoid crushing them as she settles on the chair]

"I've been here and there, and been very busy, certainly -- but yes, I have." Desire settles into his chair, producing another champagne flute and quirking an eyebrow curiously at her: There's an invitation to the bottle he has on his table, but he's certainly not going to insist if she doesn't want any.

[Delia is better then she has been, with alcohol, but even as her intake is normally directly proportional to her mood, she rarely says no.

today is not one of those rare days, so she nods and says]

If you would be so kind. And I am glad to hear it. It has been rather up and down, here.

"Do tell."

Desire looks away to pour Delia's champagne, but she still has his undivided attention: Those gold eyes return to her direction while passing the filled flute across.

I died, for one thing.

[died, killed herself, same thing at the heart of the matter.]

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