(Untitled)

[liz_imbrie_]

[OOM: You're fired!]

"Lese-majeste," Liz Imbrie murmurs as she wraps her hands around a cup of tea. In front of her is the sailing timetable of the USS Orion; she's circled a few dates.

She looks a little dazed.

Come snap her out of it.

[OOC: Mun cannot, for reasons unknown, sign onto AIM. Oops?]

Comments

[oneheadlighthit]

"Well hello again," I say, hoping to snap her out of the daze. There's the lazy look, the sweet blankness of a daydreamer and then there was this. This? Is usually what I think I looked like when I'd just been shot again. "You look about as good as I feel."

Being savaged by a farm sticks with you, even after a couple nights.

[liz_imbrie_]

"Eep!"

That was a dignified eep, mind you.

[oneheadlighthit]

"The tea cup's going to work about as well as the martini glass. I'm low on suits, lady."

[liz_imbrie_]

"I didn't throw it at you this time," she says, and looks into her cup.

"Besides, it's gone lukewarm."