(no subject)

[lordpeter.livejournal.com]

A slim, elegant-looking man walks into the bar. He is wearing a grey suit, and carries an expensive-looking overcoat; his eyes are grey, and one is protected by a monocle, under sleek pale straw-coloured hair.

Hello, hello then, this is...
... not the Egotist's Club.

One eyebrow arches slightly. He turns around.

Bunter? Bunter?

There is no reply. Sighing, he turns back to the bar.

I appear to have lost my way. And my valet. How disconcerting. Still, this looks like...

His eyes fall on some of the more unique denizens of Milliways.

... an interesting place.

He seats himself smoothly.

Brandy, please.

Comments

[bobby-gadling.livejournal.com]

[ooc: i fuckin' love you so much. you are my hero. no really. lord peter fuckin' wimsey. *cries*]

[sign-seeker.livejournal.com]

[ooc: *seconds* *bounces in place, grinning madly*]

[lordpeter.livejournal.com]

[ooc: Why, thank you, Mr. Gadling. So pleased to make your acquaintance! I am nothing but a dabbler in life's smaller mysteries, and death's greater ones...]

[pjpettigrew.livejournal.com]

[OOC: Oh, excellent! So glad to see Lord Peter Death Bredon Wimsey about. And really, Milliways shouldn't be too different from his various clubs, so he should adapt swiftly.]

[veryvorkosigan]

[OOC: Well, except for the odd fellows with wings on, and the chap in the turtleshell, and the lady who makes holes in things. And the inexplicable lack of anyone getting murdered.]

[lordpeter.livejournal.com]

[ooc: Pretty much a regular day for me then, isn't it? Exceptin' the murder part. ]

[pjpettigrew.livejournal.com]

[OOC: Well, there IS the mystery of the murdered angel that you could solve...]

[lordpeter.livejournal.com]

[ ooc: I can assure you I already find the place absolutely riveting. I shall go and have a prod at the giant turtle in the corner in a bit. ]

[musical-muse.livejournal.com]

[OOC: I third it! OMG! Lord Peter Wimsey!]

[lordpeter.livejournal.com]

[ ooc: good lord, the pressure's on me now, eh? ]

[musical-muse.livejournal.com]

[OOC: Don't worry, we're all rooting for you]

Well now, Death takes a holiday, m'lord Wimsey?

[lordpeter.livejournal.com]

Lord Peter turns to take in this intruder on his thoughts.

It would appear that m'lord Wimsey takes a holiday, actually, though not one I planned on.

He examines her face, meticulously.

Italy, yes? Sorry, your name escapes me at the moment, but I'm certain we met in Italy.

To himself:

I meet nearly everyone whose name I forget in Italy...

[musical-muse.livejournal.com]

It's certainly possible, m'lord, I've been known to while away a merry hour on an Italian palazzo or a Venetian gondola. My name is Euterpe, please call me Tere, Lady Tere if you fell the need for formality...I sing.

[lordpeter.livejournal.com]

Euterpe, Lady Tere!

He is charmed by what he thinks is an absolutely unique stage name.

Yes, I'm certain I've seen you perform.
Probably at one of those tiresome dinner parties, you look as though you would light one right up.
Are you employed here?

He lowers his voice.

It seems somewhat... rustic. With the things and the whatnot. Don't you know.

[lordpeter.livejournal.com]

[ ooc: I'm sorry, but I simply must dash -- we might continue a bit later today, if that's all right. ]

[musical-muse.livejournal.com]

[OOC: Certainly! G'night!]