Visit
The room Coleburn has lowered the wards and let her into is a dusty spare bedroom. There is some elegant, antique furniture, but everything is covered in dropcloths and dust. Terrence himself stands leaning in the doorway, tall and gaunt and not looking terribly healthy. There are shadows around his eyes, stubble on his face, and the unmistakeable and ever-present scent of scotch and coffee around him. There are faint and healing burn scars on his hands and arms. He is dressed only in jeans, a rumpled t-shirt, and socks, despite the chill at this end of the house.
((Open to play whenever, as I know the holidays are busy. I'm in no hurry.))
((Open to play whenever, as I know the holidays are busy. I'm in no hurry.))