milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Unsurprisingly, Sarah Jane is over by the fireplace today with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. Her notepad's opened up on her lap, but instead of writing, she's staring out at the fire and chewing on the cap of her pen.

There's a small smile on her face that may even be described as dreamy by some. If asked, she may deny it, but there's a good chance she won't. Havana aside, this past weekend was rather lovely indeed.

[ooc: the mun may dissappear due to dizzy spells. but right now, she needs a distraction from things.]

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She'd probably call me a lunkheaded Alorn, he says honestly. And she's about right.

She smirks, bending down to scratch the spot behind his ear. "It's brave of you to admit it. Most men probably wouldn't."

I've heard it often enough, he grumbles, obviously appreciating the scritching.

"She sounds like someone I'd probably get along with very well," Sarah replies, continuing to scritch his head. "How long have you known her?"

Since I was fifteen or so. We've been married for fifteen years just about.

"Fifteen?" Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head. "Oh, that's certainly a long time."

Not really.

And for him, it really isn't.

Are you married, Mistress Smith?

"Sarah," she corrects automatically, already shaking her head rapidly. "I'm definately not married. I don't think I'll ever be, to be honest."

It's not really her thing. It hasn't been ever since she ended her engagement with Andrew three years ago.

Sometimes it sneaks up on you. I didn't know I would be getting married either.

Sarah shrugs, shrinking back in her chair. Quietly, "I just got into a relationship with someone after my last one ended absolutely horribly. I'd much rather not think about the future quite yet."

Things turn out how they're supposed to, usually. Don't worry about it, but don't avoid it. Let things progress as they will. That's the best advice I can give. Or just the best comfort.

"It's still strange to me, but I'm rather warming up to it. He's a wonderful person and well, he needs somone." Sarah shrugs again, smiling softly. "I think he needs me and that doesn't scare me as much as it did weeks ago."

That's good. I'm glad for you.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "I think I'm rather glad with the way things have turned out as well."

Things usually happen the way they should if you let them.

He looks up at her.

Incidentally, if you come by bartending this Friday, first drink's on me.

"Oh really?" Sarah beams down at him, a teasing look in her eye. "I didn't know that wolves were capable of bartending."

It does require thumbs he admits. Luckily, I usually have them.

"Well, I'll certainly try to stop by if I see you then. I have to say I'm interested to see what a wolf turned sorccerer looks like in human form."

You're welcome to see now. The only reason I was a wolf was because I'd just come in from a run.

Sarah eyes him curiously and nods. "It would help me to find you on Friday, come to think of it."

He nods and steps back a few paces before doing something that looks a little like melting except faster and upwards.

Which leaves her with a seven foot tall, well-built young man in his early twenties, blonde, dressed in a doublet and hose and sporting a rather goofy sort of farmboy grin.

"Bravo," she cheers, clapping. "A most excellent transformation I think. Not that I've seen many others to judge by, unless you count the Doctor's last regeneration."

"I've never met the Doctor," because he'd heard the capital letter. He settles into a nearby chair, letting his legs stretch out crossed at the ankles. "But I'm happy to entertain."

Sarah turns in the armchair to better face him. "Well, thank you. I'm happy to be entertained."

"I've been told I'm not allowed to sell tickets," he says with a small smile.

He nods to her before leaning out of his chair and offering his hand.

"Garion of Riva."