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[prone_to_panic]

Archie's been in the bar for a while now, he's sitting in a booth watching the destruction outside. He's also got a battered packet of notes sitting on the table in front of him. Every so often he taps the top of them absently.

He might appreciate company.

Comments

[collects_ears]

And George - on his way back from the bar with another glass of wine -just happens to pass Archie's table.

"Archie."

[prone_to_panic]

He looks up and smiles easily.

"Good evening, George. How are you faring?"

He waves to the bench opposite himself.

[collects_ears]

He gives the short answer. It's easier that way.

"Won't Can't complain." He manages a smile. A bit shaky, but there nonetheless. He sits down across from Archie.

"And you?"

[prone_to_panic]

Archie tilts his head at the other man.

"I suppose I can't complain either..."

He doesn't prod, but George definately has a 'something's up' face, and Archie's a worrier.