oo4 † in that stone tower, crying for the handsome butcher [ location: the forest ] → [ visual ]

[behindfirelight]

Ambrose leaves behind more than he expected to, when he goes; Solomon runs his fingertips over the scar tissue on his chest and feels, not for the first time, the phantom pain of heated steel and knows the smell of his own flesh burning under it. The greenhouse is empty, with Leila attending to some business of her own, and he has time to shower and shave and weep and throw up, then wash his face and belt his trousers. He buttons his shirt over the scar that is and is not his, and stares at the filing cabinet in his office (the one room untouched by the mess of his own history, left locked if only because neither Ambrose nor Leila knew where to find the key) for a long while until he digs the key out of his desk and looks under 'R' for Katerine and Django Roy.

Eventually, he goes to find where he left his tablet before all this. Ambrose, unsurprisingly, hadn't touched it.

[ VISUAL ]

Sol scratches the side of his jaw, looking not quite subdued but certainly worn out. "I'm back," he says, without preamble, "to the few of you who'd have a stake in my being missing. Doul, if you see this, we're getting a drink later. No arguments. River, thanks. And I see someone's looking for a greenhouse - let me know what you need and I'll see if I can help. I'm not in the mood to have visitors turning up unannounced just today. ...and Glitch Langwe, I need a word with you." Promise it's not as ominous as it sounds, given his evident mood.

That accomplished, he abandons his tablet to light a cigarette and wait on the step for Leila's return.