(Untitled)

[un_fallen]

There's a tired figure sitting at the bar - tired, but a little less weary-looking than he's been on his last few visits. The road grime is gone, too, for which Bar is probably grateful. He's spending less time staring at his glass, instead scanning the bar in a thoughtful way that looks a lot more nonchalant than it is

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[a_poor_guardian]

Often, people who meet Archibald Craven expect that he has some great crime on his soul. Raguel ought to know that he doesn't. Still, Archibald has high crooked shoulders and a lined grim face, and he does not smile as he approaches the man at the bar.

"Excuse me, sir," says Archibald in clear if English-accented Italian. "Can you tell me where to find the innkeeper?"

[un_fallen]

"Well, uh. It depends what you're looking for," he says hesitantly, glancing across to where Bernard's red hair is clearly visible. His own Italian is also accented, but it's not with English. He hasn't had any need to speak Italian for quite a while.

"Are you looking for a room?"

[a_poor_guardian]

"Yes, actually." Archibald's pause is slightly too long. "I walked farther than I meant to today."

[un_fallen]

"Well, you can just get a key from the bar, and..."

He trails off, frowning slightly.

"Do you prefer English?" he asks, switching languages abruptly. "It's spoken fairly widely here."

[a_poor_guardian]

"How odd," replies Archibald in English. He frequently chooses destinations with the smallest possible number of English tourists.

Belatedly, he remembers his courtesy and offers Raguel his hand. "Archibald Craven. Misselthwaite Manor, Yorkshire."

[un_fallen]

"Raguel," he says, shaking it. "Los Angeles, California, lately."

'Odd' is a pretty unusual way to respond to English in the bar, though. Raguel shifts uncomfortably on his stool - he's never had to do this before.

"You aren't... new here, are you?"

[a_poor_guardian]

"I've just come in," answers Archibald.

That is, unfortunately, a yes.

[un_fallen]

"Ah," he says, rather nervously.

"Well, I don't quite know how to say this, so... I'll just start with...this probably isn't where you think it is."

He gestures hesitantly towards the observation window.

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald Craven has been travelling through the most beautiful, most secluded places in Europe. He has climbed snow-covered mountains and stood beside wide clear lakes. Only rarely and lately has he noticed the beauty around him.

Now he stops short, inhales. "My God," Archibald Craven says, staring at the window. "What is that?"

[un_fallen]

"It's the end of the universe," he says, with a strange kind of sadness.

"Only it never actually ends. Which is reassuring, I guess. And you're safe in here.

Relatively speaking."

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald takes one step towards the window, another. He has turned away from Raguel entirely, and when he speaks, under his breath, he seems to be talking to himself alone. "I suppose I can't get any further away."

[un_fallen]

"Away from what?" he asks, but he thinks he has an idea. The type aren't that hard to recognize after so long.

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald's forgotten Raguel's presence entirely; the question comes to him like a voice out of his own mind. "A house," he says to whatever or whoever is speaking to him.

[un_fallen]

"Right," he says wearily.

He feels like he should leave the man to his thoughts, but abandoning a new entry in this bar doesn't seem very wise. He backs up to the bar again where he can keep an eye on the man without intruding.

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald walks further, all the way to the window, and leans his hands on the glass. He stands there for a long time, watching as the stars burst in huge, bright clumps. Archibald feels his mind go quiet. It is not the first time this has happened, but it is still new to him. He breathes slowly, softly, and lets the peace fill him.

At length he pushes himself away from the window.

"I'm sorry," Archibald says to Raguel, when he returns to the bar. "I forgot you. It was rude."

[un_fallen]

"Wasn't rude," he says, with a hint of a smile.

"First time I saw it, I think I stood there for about two days. Sat right in front of it, every time I came in. It has a way of drawing you in."