(no subject)
In the Nexus, a pair of smooth brass double doors surrounded by filigreed brass edgings, an ashtray, and a cloud anemone in a planter, chimes quietly before sliding open. Disgorged through the aperture are a slow wave of thick, fragrant red sludge, and a goblin king who is irritated and saturated both quite thoroughly. The doors soon close on the burgundy flood, leaving Jareth to pick his way to its edge, with a curse for every step. At least no one who knows him is seeing him like this.