It's been awhile.

Mandarin Calligraphy Available

If I can spell it (or you can for me) I'll write it out.

Donations accepted.

Tip your waitrats, Mal and his sign will be here all night.

Evey is...

Not as pleased, perhaps, with her new situation as she might have been.

Considering the alternative.

But it is as it is, and he's no guilt for what's done to keep her alive.
Never guilt for anything needed for that. And alive, too.
That does not mean that part of V is not pleased at the distraction provided when he steps into the bar

Valerie has appropriated a spot by the fire -- an armchair, the perfect place for tucking up her feet and gazing into the flames, sipping tea, absently playing with her hair with her free hand.

It's going to be a while before the shine of this place's luxuries wears off.

[First, there was gunpowder, and music, and surprise.

Now comes the plot and the fear, and the chaosNow comes the real chase ( Read more... )

He didn't expect to be here.

There's business to attend to today--it's morning light that shines behind him through the door--but still.

The day will wait for a few moments more, and it will be time well-spent, V feels, as he enters and considers the room.

[OOM: Three score barrels of powder below / Poor old England to overthrow It began a long time ago. Longer than anyone thinks. Now the pace quickens, and now the plot thickens.]

Verily, view before you a visage--oh, to hell with it.

V's in the bar.

He is not knitting. Nor does he have tea. Nor, in fact, is he brooding.

He's whistling behind his mask and making notes on a pad.

...Maybe he's in the wrong bar.

[oom: remembering]

Serenity is on Beaumonde for the moment.

That may be why Mal is strolling in with a deck of Long Pai cards and a noticable weight in his coat pocket - Mal may have just won a few hands off of the locals.

Come say hi?

June is a good month for roses.

V has set an armful of them on the table, and is carefully examining each one before setting it aside, gingerly, more for fear of hurting the rose than from being scratched by the thorns.

His gloves are thick, anyway.