(no subject)
A young man (quite young, early teens, if that, smallish, skinny) walks into the bar carrying a folded up cape under one arm and a broom over his shoulder. His clothes are dirty, worn, well-traveled. His black hair falls into his eyes, and he hardly bothers to push it out of his face.
It takes a moment for him to realize that this isn’t the café where he said he’d meet Dorothy after she talked to the Wizard, and when he does, he looks more annoyed than anything at the realization.
“And on top of everything, I’m lost,” he mutters. He hadn’t thought he could get lost, even in the Emerald City. He was sure he’d been paying attention.
He reaches one hand into his pocket, counting the coins there without pulling them out (in case someone watching should decide to relieve him of his small purse), and realizes that he hasn’t enough to purchase a drink here and at the café.
Still, it can’t hurt to stay just a little while in an attempt to get his bearings.
It takes a moment for him to realize that this isn’t the café where he said he’d meet Dorothy after she talked to the Wizard, and when he does, he looks more annoyed than anything at the realization.
“And on top of everything, I’m lost,” he mutters. He hadn’t thought he could get lost, even in the Emerald City. He was sure he’d been paying attention.
He reaches one hand into his pocket, counting the coins there without pulling them out (in case someone watching should decide to relieve him of his small purse), and realizes that he hasn’t enough to purchase a drink here and at the café.
Still, it can’t hurt to stay just a little while in an attempt to get his bearings.