(Untitled)

[balletrat]

*Meg's been shuttling between the Threshold and the House of Arch, mostly, for the past few days, with occasional stops to check about her lost coffee mug; it's only this morning that she's stopped by the bar long enough to receive a letter.An executive decision: Family politics might make it awkward to read in the Threshold, and the main bar is a

Comments

[stilljustandrew]

*The door opens. Andrew comes in, an empty duffel slung over his shoulder, and stops when he sees her.*

Meg?

What is it?

[balletrat]

*Meg glances up, and shakes her head, quickly.*

It's not - I mean, it's just that Moiraine -

*She sees the duffel, taking in the implications, and after half a beat goes on.*

- going back to her own world for a little while, is all. She'll be all right, I just haven't seen her for a bit. To hear what the status is.

[stilljustandrew]

Oh.

*His eyes are a little wide, at that.*

I -- did she say what for?

[balletrat]

*Meg shakes her head again.*

I mean. I - would guess it's for the usual. I know she's got business, she needs to take care of -

*A half shrug.*

I worry, is all. But she can take care of herself.

[stilljustandrew]

Yeah.

*And if he's thinking of certain parts of a certain book, he doesn't say anything.*

Meanwhile, I've got stuff going on back home too. *He lifts the duffel by way of emphasis.* Needed to pick up a few things here.

[balletrat]

Ouais, I figured.

*Meg nods at the duffel, rising from the seat with alacrity.*

What d'you need? I can help you look, if you like -

[stilljustandrew]

Uh .... my passport, for one -- I think it's still here from when I was between apartments --

[balletrat]

*Meg grins.*

Left-hand desk drawer. Underneath the notes on un-openable boxes.

[stilljustandrew]

*He beams at her.*

You are amazing.

[balletrat]

I try, *Meg says, demurely.* Got to keep some kind of an edge.

*She pulls open the drawer, ruffling through the papers to find the passport; her gaze directed down:* So what's the business at home?

[stilljustandrew]

*Andrew, meanwhile, is picking up a few books (including one inexplicably balanced on top of two empty soda bottles).*

Angel came through. He's sending us to England to warn the Council.

[balletrat]

*Meg relaxes, a little, upon hearing that.

Warning the Council doesn't sound like a mission of extreme danger, although, of course, in Andrew's world, one never knows.

Lightly:* Is he paying the plane fare, then?

[stilljustandrew]

Yeah, but if things roll out the way I'm hoping, I'm gonna get the Council to reimburse him.

[balletrat]

Andrew Wells, diplomat to the great and demon-slayer-y, *Meg says, glancing at him.*

Want an olive branch to go with that?

[stilljustandrew]

Huh. Maybe. It's not quite the right symbolism ...

Is there something that means 'right, you lot, stop fighting and get along, you're behaving like idiots'?

[balletrat]

*- Meg's first thought is a great big statue of a pair of dead lovers.

Fortunately for everyone concerned, she manages to censor it before it can come out.*

Er. A rolled-up newspaper?