(no subject)
Melpomene steps up to the bar with a pile of smooth, slightly off-white papers. They might be invitations. You'll get one with your beer, whether you like it or not.
She sets the stack on the wooden counter, and watches it vanish. "One for each customer, please? Thanks."
... and disappears into the narratively convenient gloom. She'll be around.
She sets the stack on the wooden counter, and watches it vanish. "One for each customer, please? Thanks."
... and disappears into the narratively convenient gloom. She'll be around.