(Untitled)

[oldcanarywharf]

There's a fortyish man standing on his own, looking around him with a bemused expression on his face. He takes a few steps towards the door, looking back the way he came, and any onlooker might notice the slight limp with which he walks. He turns back.

...Thursday? *and a little suspiciously* Mr Next?

Typist: Landen Parke-Laine from Jasper Fforde

Comments

[hellflowsover]

He's not here, providing you mean her father. She is. *smiles blithely and holds out a hand to shake* Acheron Hades. Pleased to meet you.

[oldcanarywharf]

*runs a hand through his hair and takes Acheron's hand without really considering it* Oh, good. Landen Parke-Laine.

[hellflowsover]

*shakes firmly* Nice to finally meet you. I know your wife, of course. She's been wondering where you were.

[yesthedeadone]

Good God, you really did get old.

[oldcanarywharf]

*blinkblinkblink* Am I hallucinating?

[yesthedeadone]

If that's what you'd like to believe.

[oldcanarywharf]

*scratches head, but is rather developing a smile* What...are you doing here?

[book_jumper]

*tacklepounce* There you are! I thought I'd imagined you again, for a while.

[oldcanarywharf]

*grin and a kiss for Thursday!* I'm here. *lets go* Which would be where, exactly?

[book_jumper]

*with a vague shrug* No one's sure. But there are literary characters here, so don't freak out if you meet any. *grin*

[also_ah]

She's around, somewhere. *and smiles a bit* Hello, Landen.

[oldcanarywharf]

*frowns* Hello.

[also_ah]

Thursday's about here somewhere. I couldn't say where. I haven't tried to torment her in ages.

[sweariwontdie]

*bows* Bonjour, monsieur.

You are looking for Mlle. Next?

[oldcanarywharf]

*small smile* That would be Thursday, yes. I've found her - or, to be accurate, she's found me, thank you.

[sweariwontdie]

*grins back* Oh good. Do you know her well. I confess I don't.