*Is* this how it happens?

[for_tradition]

There's a woman in the Bar proper. She's commandeered a medium-ish sized table and covered it with things: books, pieces of parchment, notes. There's a plate of biscuits and a pot of tea. She has one pair of glasses tucked on her shining brown hair, and she's wearing another, and she's humming to herself.

She is also, as a certain cavalier might say, mega-dead... but she doesn't seem at all perturbed by it.

Comments

[hinotfuckingdead]

He squeezes her hand, then rises with a bow. "I am going to put matters in train. Please, enjoy your worthy retirement. Until the final Resurrection!"

[for_tradition]

Abigail inclines her head graciously, somehow managing to return his courtesy without actually getting up and dipping into a bow.

"Until then, Lord," she says, and holds up a plate.





"Biscuit for the road?"

[hinotfuckingdead]

"Gladly." He takes one, and stalks for the door, with dignity appropriate to the King Undying.

Well, damn. If his people are going to keep showing up here he's going to have to find another bar to drink in.