(no subject)
"Bar, may I have something calming?"
Lord Peter Wimsey, second son of the fifteenth Duke of Denver, uncle of the Viscount Saint-George, landlord of half of London's suburbs, authority on incunabulae and homicide and cricket blue for Oxford in 1911, plays piano for a living.
His brother, the Sixteenth Duke, would probably hang his head in shame, but Peter is not at all put out by it. After all, whatever a Wimsey does is the proper thing.
He is playing now, Vivaldi by the sound of it. His clothing is tidy, sleeves rolled up, hair sleeked back, tip jar discreet but visible.
Why not make a request?
Lord Peter Wimsey, second son of the fifteenth Duke of Denver, uncle of the Viscount Saint-George, landlord of half of London's suburbs, authority on incunabulae and homicide and cricket blue for Oxford in 1911, plays piano for a living.
His brother, the Sixteenth Duke, would probably hang his head in shame, but Peter is not at all put out by it. After all, whatever a Wimsey does is the proper thing.
He is playing now, Vivaldi by the sound of it. His clothing is tidy, sleeves rolled up, hair sleeked back, tip jar discreet but visible.
Why not make a request?