(Untitled)

[almost_arabian]

Lawrence is perched near the fire with a cup of tea in hand, a map stretched across his lap haphazardly.

He only appears busy - really he's not doing much of anything.

Comments

[bad_as_he_is]

And so Tom wanders over.

And peers.

[almost_arabian]

And is peered at in return.

"Hello there, Tom."

[bad_as_he_is]

Tom smiles and pulls Lawrence into a hug.

"Hello, Mister Lawrence."

[almost_arabian]

He hugs Tom in return and smiles.

He's still in a good mood and out of the cells, after all.

"And how are you?"

[yuppie_trash]

"Where in the world is that?" Elegant forefinger tapping the edge of the map.

[almost_arabian]

He swats neatly at the offending finger.

"I'd ask you to keep your hands off, as the ink is still drying. It is a small area of desert in Iraq."

[yuppie_trash]

An eyebrow raises, and he flicks the corner of the map just so that he might feel self-satisfied. Smile strained, and very polite while asking, "Ah. Independent yet?"

[almost_arabian]

"In a manner of speaking, but it apparently does not last quite so long as I would have liked it to."

He shakes his head.

[herr_farrenen]

It really is the most interesting place.

Pint of bitter in hand, collar and tie loosened, Siegfried's eyes travel over the interior of the pub with interest, even as the heat of the room causes the scent of cow and barnyard to waft gently from his clothing.

A man by the fireside is a common sight in the dim, tiny pubs of Darrowby and the surrounding area, and he gives a friendly nod to this one, glancing briefly at the paper in his lap while taking another deeply contented pull at his own pint.

[almost_arabian]

Lawrence is very practiced at not wrinkling his nose or anything of the sort.

"And hello to you as well, sir." As long as people are polite to him, he can be tolerably polite back. Maybe.

[herr_farrenen]

"Thank you, young man."

Siegfried raises his glass and smiles beatifically, either not noticing the odor of farm animals, or not caring a bit.

"Absolutely top-notch, this. Will you have a drink, there?"

[almost_arabian]

Lawrence laughs softly.

"Young man? Hardly, I'm afraid."

[song_tra_bong]

And cue the blonde girl peering over his shoulder to study said map.

"Where is it?"

[almost_arabian]

"Iraq. Just a little portion."

A slight smile.

[song_tra_bong]

She traces the lines of the map with her eyes.

"That's...desert, isn't it? Are you going there?"

[almost_arabian]

"It is where I live."

He shrugs a little.

[dragonofgrey]

He was outside, but now he was stopping back in the bar. He walked past Lawrence's table, but the map drew his eyes.

[almost_arabian]

He's wondering if Tom's done anything nasty to Draco just yet.

"Yes?" He turns a questioning gaze to the blonde boy.

[dragonofgrey]

Not yet, but Draco's been keeping to himself and busy mostly.

He peered closer, "That seems familiar, what map is it?"

[almost_arabian]

"It is a map of Iraq."

Matter-of-factly.