A Half-Expected Visit
WHO: Akio Ohtori, Mozenrath
WHAT: Akio said he wished to speak with Mozenrath in person. Mozenrath agreed a little flippantly and here's the result.
WHERE: Mozenrath's Quarters.
WHEN: After his shift in the library is through, late afternoon/mid evening.
WARNINGS: ...None yet?
Mozenrath was not expecting company, though he should have been. Probably. He all but invited Akio to visit, but assuming perhaps that little would come of it, he promptly forgot it -- his conversations with that particular Inmate had always been somewhat clipped and awkward, largely because he couldn't read the man and had no idea what to think of him. He called him creepy, and he probably didn't go that far, but damn if his constant nonchalance didn't unsettle him.
But the sorcerer wasn't thinking about any of these things at that very moment. He'd completed his shift in the library and had taken a bath in the communal showers -- he didn't like using them around other people so always waited until some point in the day when they were empty. Now, dressed again, he'd settled down at his desk with a book he'd borrowed from the library, taking the odd note.
Xerxes slipped down over his shoulder and pushed his head under his hand. He set the quill aside and rewarded him with an idle stroke, his eyes never leaving the pages he was scanning.
For a minute he almost felt like he was home.
WHAT: Akio said he wished to speak with Mozenrath in person. Mozenrath agreed a little flippantly and here's the result.
WHERE: Mozenrath's Quarters.
WHEN: After his shift in the library is through, late afternoon/mid evening.
WARNINGS: ...None yet?
Mozenrath was not expecting company, though he should have been. Probably. He all but invited Akio to visit, but assuming perhaps that little would come of it, he promptly forgot it -- his conversations with that particular Inmate had always been somewhat clipped and awkward, largely because he couldn't read the man and had no idea what to think of him. He called him creepy, and he probably didn't go that far, but damn if his constant nonchalance didn't unsettle him.
But the sorcerer wasn't thinking about any of these things at that very moment. He'd completed his shift in the library and had taken a bath in the communal showers -- he didn't like using them around other people so always waited until some point in the day when they were empty. Now, dressed again, he'd settled down at his desk with a book he'd borrowed from the library, taking the odd note.
Xerxes slipped down over his shoulder and pushed his head under his hand. He set the quill aside and rewarded him with an idle stroke, his eyes never leaving the pages he was scanning.
For a minute he almost felt like he was home.