(Untitled)

[misericord]

Here, then, is a slight worn-looking man of indeterminate age: he is probably in his forties, but the grey in his light hair, the lines about his eyes, suggest more than that. His face is tired and hard and sombre, and yet trustworthy; the face of an essentially gentle man who has learned to guard himself.  He wears plain, old-fashioned clothes,

Comments

[intryingtimes]

That seems to have happened to the lot of us. *offers a hand and a small, rather comforting smile* Arthur Holmwood. Now, where were you trying to get to?

[misericord]

Cordy shakes his hand firmly, though the answering smile is somewhat troubled. "Well, that's a question, isn't it-- I was on my way home, you see, but just now I'd be glad to find myself anywhere familiar."

[intryingtimes]

Anywhere familiar wouldn't be London, would it?

[misericord]

He blinks, and laughs a little uneasily. "That... wasn't where I had intended to be, no."

[la_baronne]

*he looks rather worried, so she gives him a warm smile as she curtsies* Hello, monsieur. If you'd like, I can try to help you find your way. I'm Cosette.

[misericord]

Wryly, "That would be very kind, Miss. Do you think it's likely?"

[la_baronne]

I suppose it all depends on where you want to go.

[greying_raven]

Luther smiles. "Hello."

[misericord]

A nod; the taciturnity is contagious.

[greying_raven]

"Luther." The offer of a hand.

[misericord]

Cordy takes it with a smile (the phrase "kindred spirit" will not be popularised for some decades yet, but he knows one when he sees one). "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

[russet_goddess]

Haven't we all.

[misericord]

They keep saying that sort of thing. "All of whom?"

[russet_goddess]

All of us. In case y'didn't notice, you're not the only one here.

[misericord]

"Luckily for me, no." Cordy lives with this sort of thing daily, and is not (visibly) annoyed. "And are you all unaccountably lost, then?"

[sweariwontdie]

*bows* Hello there, M. Warren. I'm Armand St. Just. Do you need anything?