(Untitled)

[petitbaron]

So, Georges is sprawled across a couch, with a bottle of absinthe and a pile of papers nearby, writing rather busily. He's completely forgotten his birthday was yesterday; he looks like he hasn't gotten sleep in a few days. What can we say, when the muse finally appears, she arrives with a vengeance. (In other words, yes, he has been writing for

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[keeptothelight]

"What are you writing?" Louisa, who has never really counted manners as one of her strong points, asks. And then, with much greater curiosity, "What are you drinking?"

[petitbaron]

"A novel, hopefully," he says without looking up. "And that's absinthe, cherie," he adds with an absent smile.

[keeptothelight]

"What's absinthe?" she asks, interest only growing.

[petitbaron]

"It's very strong liquor," he says and gives Louisa another smile. "Definitely not appropriate for young ladies, I'm afraid -- and I can't believe I just said that."

[keeptothelight]

"Which part?"