(Untitled)

[i_martha_adams]

Martha is, again, in to check for messages.

There are, again, none.

However any night she doesn't have to cook for herself in a house that was supposed to hold two or more people is a good night. She orders a dinner, finds a table, and commences watching the stars die.

There are two plates, if anyone is interested in keeping her company.

Comments

[simple_tool]

Tool had been allowed to leave the Australian abode for a time. Which was, perhaps, a good thing. It seemed she unnerved the people there, no matter their good intentions...and there was a babe on the way now...not a good thing to have a soulless around.

So she was delivering a note, held carefully in her hands. She certainly didn't note the chill in the air as she walked, nor how upon occassion people stepped away from her, she simply did as bid. "For Mistress Martha" she spoke quietly to Bar, raising gracefully onto her toes to see the polished surface.

Stubbornly though, Bar did not accept the note, instead offering a seating chart with table marked. Tool curtsied to the Bar and walked off, coming to a silent stop at a nearby table "Mistress Martha?"

[i_martha_adams]

"My name is Martha."

She blinks, and turns to look at the girl,

"Mrs. Martha Adams. Can I help you?"

This has to be Tool. She's so...empty. At least I hope this is Tool, because otherwise there are two terribly broken little girls around. Which may be why I found this place, but what a terrible reason for a blessed event.

[simple_tool]

Tool curtsied once more, not at all graceless in her OshKosh overalls and patterned blouse. Perhaps it was the hair, sweeping to the floor at the movement. "Master Arithon bid I delver a note"

Said note was offered smoothly without her even looking up.

[i_martha_adams]

She takes the note, but doesn't open it yet,

"And who are you? I like to know the names of those I speak to."

Mild, non-accusatory, and expectant. She's certain that she knows the answer, hopeful that it is the right answer, and bleeding for the child.

[theravenboy]

There's a young man sitting and studying by the bar, not too far away. At some point he rises, taking a harp with him, and passes Martha's table. "Expecting a guest, are you?"

[i_martha_adams]

She looks up, and offers him a small smile,

"No...I am afraid that I forgot that I'm only ordering for one these days."

About the same age as my boy, Daniel. Buzz, however, has the musical talent of a sheep.

She waves at the other plate,

"If you wish to nominate yourself for guest-hood, I would not argue. One of the best parts of this place is t he interesting people I have met."

[theravenboy]

"I have already eaten, but I would be glad to join you." Bran sits, keeping the harp on his lap. "Bran Davies." Steadying the harp with his left hand, he offers her his right across the table.

[i_martha_adams]

"Mrs. Martha Adams."

She shakes his hand firmly, before adding with a slightly pained expression,

"Widow. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Davies."

She means it, just as she meant the earlier comment about meeting new people.

"I have been told that a when and where are polite, so I am Earth, New York state, 1986."

[politestpirate]

The next table over holds a young man, in a very old-fashioned uniform, studying a couple of books and making notes and drawings on papers in front of him. The mun does think this justifies using the geek icon. Really.

Wellard still is not the best at approaching new people- but is certainly friendly enough to those that ask questions about what it is he is working on. Or even just hello.

[i_martha_adams]

After a moment she does, indeed, cough slightly,

"You seem very intent. May I ask what you are doing?"

[politestpirate]

He looks up, startled, then gives Martha a bit of a sheepish smile. "Oh. Working on designing a ship, ma'am. In between mapping out the stars before they start exploding. My apologies, I didn't notice you."

[i_martha_adams]

"Quite alright. I have just been watching the stars."

She waves toward them, and it takes in the other plate,

"Would you care to join me? I would like to hear about your ship."

I get lonely, and I miss my son. Who is, I think, a little older than this boy...