(no subject)
It isn't April in London.
It's closer to August, which is why Robbie isn't aware in the slightest that -- in the bar -- it's April first.
He comes through the door and doesn't immediately panic since the door remains after he's closed it. Robbie has a large sheaf of papers with him, since he'd been on his way to his room to study, and decides that he can find a quiet corner to do this here. He locates a perfect table and asks Bar for ink and a pen before sitting down to pour over his notes.
After a bit, he asks a waitrat for a pot of tea and a creamer, since his head was beginning to ache from looking at his own quick scrawl.
He needed to take better notes.
It's closer to August, which is why Robbie isn't aware in the slightest that -- in the bar -- it's April first.
He comes through the door and doesn't immediately panic since the door remains after he's closed it. Robbie has a large sheaf of papers with him, since he'd been on his way to his room to study, and decides that he can find a quiet corner to do this here. He locates a perfect table and asks Bar for ink and a pen before sitting down to pour over his notes.
After a bit, he asks a waitrat for a pot of tea and a creamer, since his head was beginning to ache from looking at his own quick scrawl.
He needed to take better notes.