(Untitled)

[literallyrotten]

"The theatrical objective of the piece is to--"

Gracious, here again?

"I was working," he informs the bar sulkily, before wandering over it to find something suitably alcoholic.

Comments

[no_sin_but]

"Milliways is a bitch."

This is Marlowe's opinion from the table on the left. Darren is more interesting than reading one-handed.

[literallyrotten]

Darren, drink in hand, strides over and catches him by the collar to give him a rather cheerful kiss.

"There are advantages."

[no_sin_but]

"Mmf!"

Marlowe is, however, not complaining about the kiss.

"Almost always is."

[literallyrotten]

"I love theatre, but I do miss spare time."

That's the way it always goes.

[no_sin_but]

"Spare time? Oh. Yes. I never heard of it until now..."

[literallyrotten]

"That's a little how I feel."

He technically shouldn't even really be here now.

[no_sin_but]

"Time doesn't pass in your time while you are here, does it."

[literallyrotten]

"Not when I'm snatched like that, it doesn't."

Which is just convenient.

[no_sin_but]

"I think it'd be in your best interests to stay here, then. You know, take some time out for yourself, relax..."

[literallyrotten]

"I might be obliged to."

He shrugs.

"If only to check on my books. See that you haven't been writing in the margins."

[no_sin_but]

He holds up his right hand. It's still in its splint.

"I think your books are safe for the time being."

[literallyrotten]

"Good God, yes."

Ow, says Darren's expression.

"Is that getting better?"

[no_sin_but]

"Slowly, but...aye, it is."

[literallyrotten]

"Good." He glances at it, with a frown. Something approaching fretting.

[no_sin_but]

"Only two months."

The fretting...is noticed. Marlowe will deny feeling at all happy about it.

[literallyrotten]

"You have singularly poor luck."

Darren will have him know.