Note to the Barmen

[witchfinder_general]

Following the conversation with Gavroche, Father Harman leaves a carefully laser-printed message for the Barmen:


To Milliways Management.

Dear Sir or Madam,

I would be grateful for an opportunity to discuss a few points with you, of no great urgency, which I would nevertheless like to talk about, at your convenience. It would be very kind if you could make an appointment for me, or find me in the bar or library at a time when we are both about.

Thank you very much!

Best regards,

Fr. Pearse J. Harman, SJ

Note for Demeter

[street_sparrow]

Lady Demeter,

I wanted to explain - I don't care about the church for itself, but I do care about the wellbeing of its builder. Please don't do anything to it unless Security say it has to be done.

Gavroche

(no subject)

[sunbaked_baker]

Most of the day has passed the little girl by, as she spent much of it lying on their dingy couch, drifting in and out of a shallow sleep, as unwatched chio. Just like the day before. She remembers her mother checking on her at her lunch break, but only vaguely. She had told the girl about a funny thing a customer had said, and the girl had made an effort to laugh, but couldn't make her mother not worry about her.

It's quiet in their basement apartment, now, and will be for another three hours, before her mother gets home. But the spot where she's been on the couch is terribly hot, uncomfortably hot, and the thought of the sheets of her bed seems like the idea of water to one who is parched. When she finally can pull herself to her feet and wander back toward her room, her door doesn't take her where her mind wanted her to go. There's... a strange place. A strange, loud place, that seems only vaguely familiar.

Wandering towards the nearest couch, the six-year old girl soon curls up small in the corner with some throw pillows, winded just from that short walk.

oom/ep

[i_am_your_host]

Wolves roam in packs on the streets of Berlin.

And the door abruptly swings open to the sound of running footsteps on concrete and echoing shouts in German, harsh and violent.

The Emcee stumbles through and slams the door shut.

He braces an arm against his stomach, doubled up and gasping, as blood streams from a split lip and a gash under his left eye.

"Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth.

His dark eye makeup is smeared with perspiration and tears.


[OOC: Warning for homophobia and offensive language in the OOM.]

(no subject)

[not_only_wisdom]

Nynaeve glides through the front door, keeping her brow unfurrowed by dint of much effort.

Dealing with Aes Sedai never really gets less irritating. All those inscrutable expressions, it's uncanny.

And given that she cannot Heal her own headache, she makes her way to the bar for a teapot full of boiling water. And a cup.

The note she receives is unexpected, but less of a surprise, in its way, than she could have imagined so many (and so few) years ago.

She folds the note and tucks it away, picking up the teapot and carrying it, and the cup, over to a nearby booth.

Waiting won't always kill a woman.

Or so she devoutly hopes.

(no subject)

[is_the_motion]

It's been a long day for Bonnie, which ended in her having to bail one of her boys out of the police station. And that's something she did not expect to be still having to do when they were in their twenties...

"Beer, anything good please." she says, flopping down at the bar with her head in her hands.

"Never been so damn embarrassed."

(no subject)

[onceaviking]

Eric's seated at a table, looking through tomorrow's Shreveport Times.

He'd told Pam he wasn't quite ready to go back to Dallas yet, but there is no sense in not taking advantage of what this place has to offer.




{Linked OOM is sex free, but does contain snarky vampires and naked Eric Northman}