There is a sign up on one of the tables near the doorway, and another near the stairs upstairs. Both say:
Now Hiring
Blacksmiths, craftsmen, artisans, sculptors, metal-workers, technicians, engineers for assistance on various projects in out-of-bar location. Excellent salary (based on experience), health benefits available (just ask), and bonuses
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Comments 103
How do you say, 'sorry, I didn't mean to disappear, and by the way I'm pregnant'?
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"Hey."
Her eyes say more than her mouth - and they are doing their best to say that she really, really didn't mean to be away for so long.
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And it says, as it always says, that it's all right. He'll always forgive her. Unfortunately, he never forgets, but he always forgives. It's convenient, but sometimes painful.
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Somebody hasn't learned to read English yet. Or Greek, for that matter.
This is starting to get frustrating.
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Some fires are impossible to miss.
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Signs always lead to interesting things, which is why Christine caught the rafters firmly with her feet and swung upside down to regard the sign.
It doesn't say anything she can read and she can barely differentiate paper from ink since she's looking in the thermal spectrum, but she's found investigating the sign is always the first step.
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A voice, like the roar of a forge fire and the clang of hammers, the shifting of magma beneath the earth and the flicker of flames... all at once. Sensation as much as sound.
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This is an intrigued pred. Witness the instant pivot, tension springing into view through her body for the first time as she pulls head and shoulders around, letting go with her feet and catching at a different angle before she drops far. She's found the speaker before he's done with the first word. It's not just the ability to triangulate, it's that he's the god of fire and she sees in thermal vision, and from this angle she can see him in the booth.
Oo. Bright. Shiny. It's like looking at a ship engine, all contained.
Staaaaaaaaaaaaaare.
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For that matter, the god of the forge may be able to sense the quantum mojo of his incoming guest. The sensory impressions here are also fiery, but with a distant undertone of something... not exactly right. A bitter scent in the third nostril, like rotting metal if metal were subject to organic processes of decay.
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