(no subject)
There's that man again, Sands, looking distinctly ruffled this time round; shirt still buttoned crookedly and his walking stick not so much hanging casually from his arm as being held in a vice-like grip of doom.
He's walking with a slow and measured care up and down the wall, pausing every so often to apparently try and pry the brick open. Thus far, all attempts are proving unsuccessful.
However, if the litany of curses being ceaselessly muttered under his breath is anything to judge by, he isn't going to be giving up anytime soon.
He's walking with a slow and measured care up and down the wall, pausing every so often to apparently try and pry the brick open. Thus far, all attempts are proving unsuccessful.
However, if the litany of curses being ceaselessly muttered under his breath is anything to judge by, he isn't going to be giving up anytime soon.