(Untitled)

[hermajestysfury]

Sir Nicholas has, for the most part, remained upstairs. He has a lot to think about, to look over, to study. Most of the histories he has been reading (so strange, to think of his life as history) have been nothing like his world

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[angsty_spider]

A kid walked bye the very purple armor, and stared.

He ran into a pole.

"Ouch!"

[hermajestysfury]

Sir Nicholas glances up, takes in the similarities between that child and his once apprentice, and then goes back to reading.

It isn't Peter - the clothing is wrong, the expression is wrong, and having met someone who seemed to know him without him knowing them Richard's idea of a multitude of universes seems appropriate enough.

[angsty_spider]

"Dude, what's with the armor?" asked Peter getting off the floor.

[hermajestysfury]

"Utilitarian, comfortable, and accustomed." Sir Nicholas states.

[acts_of_gord]

The armor gets an interested look for a moment. When your own armor is orange and grey, you haven't got a lot of call to be surprised at the color of what other people wear. Not that Gordon is wearing his at the moment; he's not allowed to take it past the entry point of Area C, and he's never yet made it to Milliways from anywhere but an outside door. He's just looking, for the moment.

[hermajestysfury]

"You might as well sit, if you are going to stare." Sir Nicholas says with a casual gesture of a knife bearing an apple slice. "I am Sir Nicholas Fury."

[acts_of_gord]

"Sorry," says Gordon. "I thought-"

Well, it was just an initial impression, not a thought. Hardly worth mentioning.

"Never mind." He settles into one of the chairs. "Gordon Freeman. Good to meet you."

[hermajestysfury]

"A good habit to get into, thinking." Sir Nicholas states with a faint smile, "A pleasure to meet you as well. Are you used to armored men?"

[gondolin_noble]

Some entrances are more interesting than others.

This one is dead boring.

Sorry.

Though there's a certain healer that lives here who would never believe that Glorfindel of Imladris (or of anywhere else he managed to end up) could ever come in without blood, both his and others, dripping off of him.

Today he comes in off the training fields, dressed in simple green tunic and hose, with a minimum of embroidery (but not none, this is Glorfindel, after all), three unstrung bows in one hand (one rather much larger and heavier than the other two) and a quiver of arrows in the other. He gives the room at large a rather wry look - it isn't that he doesn't appreciate the gesture, but perhaps taking up residence somewhere other than the armory would be a fine thing.

[hermajestysfury]

Sir Nicholas takes in the weaponry, the fighter's body, then the ears, and then the clothing. He does not rise, nor bow, but the brown eye of the old soldier narrows as he attempts to spot hidden weaponry.

It's a hobby.

[gondolin_noble]

Knife in the boot (obvious), knife in the arm sheath (less obvious). He has come from the heart of Imladris, so he's only minimally armed. He definitely moves like a fighter, and like someone who has worked out exactly how his body best moves through space at all times. 'Economical' doesn't even begin to describe it.

He has evidently weighed the pros and cons of staying, and the idea of a nice glass of Dorwinion has balanced out the need to put away the used bows. Besides, he can spend the time sorting out which of the arrows need refletching.

It only becomes clear that he's noticed the scrutiny when he raises his glass in salute to the scarred man, offering an impish grin as well.

[hermajestysfury]

Sir Nicholas lifts his own glass in return. Belt, obvious. Boot, obvious if you know how to look. One sleeve hangs in such a way that it appears to be missing a knife which is usually there.