| closed / incomplete |
WHO: Nimue (druids_bane) and Percival (keepsaken)
WHERE: Her store in the Village, then elsewhere
WHEN: Quarter to 1pm
RATING: tba
WARNINGS: None for the moment.
SUMMARY: Denial, as they say, isn't just a river in Egypt.
( Under the table and you'll realize that all of your days are numbered. )
WHERE: Her store in the Village, then elsewhere
WHEN: Quarter to 1pm
RATING: tba
WARNINGS: None for the moment.
SUMMARY: Denial, as they say, isn't just a river in Egypt.
( Under the table and you'll realize that all of your days are numbered. )
Comments 9
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The voice startled Wesley, but he managed not to jump, hazel eyes shifting over to the source of it. Without even having to ask, he knew this was Nimue. Or Nina -- whatever he was supposed to call her. She had a certain presence about her, something calm and charming, and it had him returning the smile and dipping his head in greeting. He knew he'd come to the right place.
"Yeah, thanks." A pause, and then-- "You're Nina, right? I mean, I hope you are."
Contrasting against her own accent was his Texan drawl, which was still on the faint side, despite being brought up in Dallas. It was a pleasant accent -- not too thick, not too light. It suited him.
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Laughing softly in relief that he hadn't gotten the wrong person -- but how could he have; she'd said this was her store -- Wesley crossed the floor over to the counter and leaned an elbow up on it, his other hand coming out as an offering for a shake.
"Wesley Ross. I believe we're havin' lunch together, if memory serves right," he introduced, raking his eyes over her face as he came to discover she was much more pretty up close. Her face was kind. It'd been a long time since he'd met someone with a face like hers.
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