(Untitled)

[literallyrotten]

Darren Nichols enters from upstairs, looking aggresively unapologetic just in general.  Deal with that, everyone.

And down he sits, at the bar, and orders himself some good whiskey.  It seems like the day for it.

Comments

[puckishly]

"May I ask you a question?"

Says the fairy who appears on the bar.

Not at the bar.

On the bar.

[literallyrotten]

Darren examines first the bits of Puck that are at eyelevel, then trails admiringly and slowly upwards.

"Ask away."

[puckishly]

Puck smiles faintly, but really he's here on Srs Bsns.

Therefore:

"What is a cell phone? Do you know?"

He thinks he once saw him with something that resembled Andrew's little 'recording device'; however, he can't be sure.

[literallyrotten]

"A cell phone," says Darren, reaching into his pocket for his own, "is a highly developed technological shackle."

He sets the demonic, unassuming little thing down on the bar next to Puck.

[flame_and_void]

During one of his breaks from planning the next manouver of his right flank, Rand looks up from the stacks of maps and nods in greeting to the man.

[literallyrotten]

Darren has finally stopped assuming everyone wearing usual clothes must be an actor! It is, at least, a step in the right direction.

He raises his drink in return, and then takes a drink. He needs, he feels, to brace himself for the next and inevitable bit of insanity.

[flame_and_void]

"And same to you, fellow."

He raises his glass and sips.

[literallyrotten]

"Darren Nichols," says Darren, craning his neck slightly to get a glimpse of what Rand's working on.

"Director. And newly appropriated patron."