(Untitled)

[an_evening_star]

The inn, as it turns out, is rather terribly simple. Small and quiet and with a constant, steady stream of people that - while nowhere up to Milliways standards (the star has a feeling that she has been spoiled irrevocably) - are more than interesting enough to watch. The doors swing open regularly and the performer, seated far to one side with

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[tristranthorn]

Tristran is far too busy to pay any attention to anything else but the delicious meal set before him.

It's a wonder the poor boy doesn't blow up like Jiffy Pop, eating as much as he does.

[an_evening_star]

The star is relatively used to being ignored in favor of various mealtimes (breakfast in particular) so her eyebrow merely quirks bemusedly, tapping her fingertip along the rim of her glass thoughtfully.

It's moments like this when one has to make their own entertainment.

[tristranthorn]

"Where do you think we ought to go to next?" Tristran asks, once he's swallowed a bite of his toast with fresh juice.

"I mean, in a generally away-from-Stormhold direction."

[an_evening_star]

The star laughs at that, dips her fingers into the water, and flicks them easily in his direction.

"Generally," she agrees, blinking overly innocent eyes. "And possibly left."