Blenner's Apartment, Late Monday Night [4/30]
To make up for the lack of a balcony, the Antebellum Apartments had provided a rooftop garden for its attic suite. It was, on the whole, a beautiful, restful, secluded space. Full of lush plants, night blooming flowers, and wrought iron furniture with comfortable cushions.
James Blenner had spent a great deal of time here in the later days of his recovery. He had never traveled well, you see.
Now, as the night hung heavy over his garden, he sat there. On the table next to him were a goblet of thick, red liquid and a lit cigarette. The cigarette was English, strong, unfiltered. Designed to put hair on the chest and tar on the lungs. The liquid was blood. AB negative.
Blenner sipped slowly from the goblet, but made no move to touch the cigarette, to take a drag from it or to do anything that would shorten its time to burn. He would, however, pause now and again to close his eyes and inhale deeply, seeming to savour the scent of thick smoke that it sent curling around him.
"You're lucky that your clothes aren't actual clothes, you know. You'd smell perpetually of Kents," said Lucy from where she sat perched on the cushions of a metal divan.
Blenner smiled but didn't turn his face away from the smoke.
"You'll reminisce in your way, and I'll reminisce in mine."
Lucy paused for a moment to look down at the cover of the book she was reading by moonlight. She smiled.
"Yes. That's fair enough, I think."
Inclining her head, she went back to reading about 'The Ruined Man Who Became Rich Again Through A Dream'.
In the bushes next door, crickets chirped.
[OOC: Not meant for interaction. Just weird little sketch that danced into my head and refused to go away.]
James Blenner had spent a great deal of time here in the later days of his recovery. He had never traveled well, you see.
Now, as the night hung heavy over his garden, he sat there. On the table next to him were a goblet of thick, red liquid and a lit cigarette. The cigarette was English, strong, unfiltered. Designed to put hair on the chest and tar on the lungs. The liquid was blood. AB negative.
Blenner sipped slowly from the goblet, but made no move to touch the cigarette, to take a drag from it or to do anything that would shorten its time to burn. He would, however, pause now and again to close his eyes and inhale deeply, seeming to savour the scent of thick smoke that it sent curling around him.
"You're lucky that your clothes aren't actual clothes, you know. You'd smell perpetually of Kents," said Lucy from where she sat perched on the cushions of a metal divan.
Blenner smiled but didn't turn his face away from the smoke.
"You'll reminisce in your way, and I'll reminisce in mine."
Lucy paused for a moment to look down at the cover of the book she was reading by moonlight. She smiled.
"Yes. That's fair enough, I think."
Inclining her head, she went back to reading about 'The Ruined Man Who Became Rich Again Through A Dream'.
In the bushes next door, crickets chirped.
[OOC: Not meant for interaction. Just weird little sketch that danced into my head and refused to go away.]