(Untitled)

[twoeyesonthesky]

Quinn stayed last night. He had some things to think about.

Still does.

He's over by the fire, his usual cup of largely untouched but still hot coffee in his hands, where he can smell it and feel it without having to engage his conscious mind about it. That's sort of tied up elsewhere.

Comments

[fathers_cleric]

John Preston's sitting a few feet away reading-deep in thought. He's worried about a couple of things-but more about his son who seems to be spending more time outside then with his own family. The poor kid's probably lonely.

Spotting Quinn, John decides to take advantage of the opportunity for conversation. His son's too busy to speak to him? Well that's just fine.

"Are you all right?"

He sets the book aside, coming over.

[twoeyesonthesky]

Quinn glances up, pulling himself back to the here-and-now. "Hm? I'm fine," he says.

There's a faint sound of sirens at the back of his memory; he pushes it away.

"Sorry. Just remembering a few things... how're you?"

[fathers_cleric]

John nods.

One doesn't have to be a cleric to know that something is bothering this man.

Preston studies the opposite chair, "I'm all right. mind if I sit?"

[twoeyesonthesky]

Quinn nods. "Go ahead," he says, gesturing to the other chair. "How's your boy?"

He can just about hear piano music tinkling, if he tries. Whether that's memory or someone actually playing the local piano, he doesn't nkow.

[chazaqiel]

It's his first time in the bar, and he's still familiarizing himself with it. He ambles towards the fire, carrying a flute of Atlantean wine.

He's a tall, tall man, which is only slightly ameliorated by his decision to lean against the brick of the fireplace. "Evening," he says the guy who's... apparently really into his coffee?

[twoeyesonthesky]

Quinn glances up- and up and up- and smiles a little. "Hullo, there," he says politely. "Sorry- didn't see you there before."

He sounds like a respectable Londoner was violently assaulted by a Welsh dialect coach, in terms of his accent.

[chazaqiel]

Ahhhh, Wales. A place he knows of old. "It happens," he says with a laugh. "Nice and warm over here, huh?"

[twoeyesonthesky]

"Oh, yeah," says Quinn with a bit of a smile. "Like the big fireplace back home, in the dining hall. Only a lot less of the smoke." Somewhat reluctantly, he puts the coffee down. This is because he has at least a modicum of manners, and one cannot really offer to shake hands if one is holding onto something else with both of them.

"My name's Quinn Abercromby. Good to meet you, Mr....?"