Meeting the in-laws

[damnrap]

((Timed to the day all these wacky marriage shenanigans began.))Charles’s sister, it transpired, had been assigned a tent just a short stretch of grass away. (The nearest map, on the other hand, was all the way on the other side of whatever that strange thing with the swan boats thought it was, and took a little finding.) Dale couldn’t help but

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[c_macaulay]

Camilla's eyes went a little wide, surprised. "All right. Water we can certainly do, and I don't know if there's Coke but I'll look. The elves could bring it if there isn't any. There might be -- this tent has a kitchen, you know. I wonder if they all have kitchens? It's rather un-tent-like, which I'm sure isn't a word, but is there a word for the quality of not being like a tent?" Light meaningless conversation, trying to smooth over that ripple between his brows, that almost imperceptible pout; or, at the least, refusing to overtly acknowledge it. "Dale, what would you like? I'm having whiskey myself. It's early for it, I know ... the situation just seems to demand it. Unless you don't care for Lagavulin. Some people don't." If it were Francis's liquor cabinet, it'd have been Famous Grouse. But now Camilla drank what Henry drank, just as she smoked what he smoked (Lucky Strikes, in saecula saeculorum).

To her brother, she added parenthetically, "Richard isn't feeling well. I think he probably took some pills or something. There isn't much point trying to talk to him right now, believe me."

((next tag from Dale, then we can have a posting order of Dale-Charles-Camilla, if that sounds workable? damn time zones! ))