(Untitled)

[youowemeafavor]

It's been a very long time since he was last here. Three years or more, and while the passage of time has never really been a concern, it's a relief to know that some doors take a man exactly where he wants to be. It might look as though he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply once the door settles shut behind him, but the Marquis de Carabas

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[cutting_edgex23]

There's a girl standing near the bar, slim and dark-haired.

She also looks dusty. Very dusty. This is what happens when a person spends several days cleaning up after an alien invasion.

Clawing spaceships into easily-transportable parts is a useful skill.

"Hello," she says, after a moment.

"You have been here before?"

[youowemeafavor]

A slow smile starts at the corner of his lips. This is not necessarily a good thing. He takes the girl in: the dust is a thing of little concern but the fact she knows he's been here before has him at a slight disadvantage.

That will have to be rectified. Never one to give anything away, he simply aims the smile in her general direction and bows lightly, formally.

"Have we met before?"

[cutting_edgex23]

"No."

Her response is prompt. It is not accompanied by a smile.

And then--

"You do not look confused."

It is relevant.

[youowemeafavor]

There's absolutely no nonsense in this one and he rather likes that. It will make things easier in the long run. "Ah. A person with observational skills. Now that's something of value." His eyes trail to the badge on her belt.

"Local law enforcement, I take it." So far, the playing field is fairly even and he'd like to keep it that way, at least, until he holds the cards. He's got nothing against this girl -- they've only just met -- but he's got nothing for her either.

[young_tmriddle]

Tom sits at the bar, sipping a well-deserved scotch. His eyes are on the rest of the room, as they often are these days. When he sees a familiar figure enter, he scowls.

Hurrah. The Marquis de Carabas is back. It's not that Tom dislikes the Marquis... well, he doesn't actually like him, but it's not like he's one of the Old Firm. Mostly he's simply annoyed that work and Milliways seem to be mixing far more than he'd like.

"Does the entire bleeding population of the Underside have to follow me when I want a quiet drink?"

[youowemeafavor]

Now there's a face he was actually hoping to see, although he's loathe to admit it. As loathe as the wizard is to see him, judging by the expression on his face. The Marquis steals up to the man and bows.

"Lord Ostium." When he straightens again, there's a dangerous twinkle in his eyes. "Three years by my reckoning. I trust time has treated you and the Lady Door with kindness?"

[young_tmriddle]

Tom schools his features to hide his annoyance. Or most of it, anyway. He wishes he was in his dress robes, but his dark green jumper and charcoal slacks will have to do.

At least the man shows a modicum of respect, despite the disconcerting glint in his eyes. He'll give him that.

"Three years? Hmm. I had lost track. Time treats us well enough. How has it treated you?"

[youowemeafavor]

"I'm still here." That's all the answer he needs to give: Croup and Vandemar aren't the only ones to have tried to do him in, and they aren't the only ones to have failed. "And you seem less than thrilled to see me which is, of course, perfectly understandable. We haven't always been on the best of terms."

There's no harm done in being straightforward. Not with a member of the venerable and esteemed House of Arch.

"Is Door well?"

[bodldops]

(OOC: I wanted to tag, but suddenly my night got event-full. Love the pup! :D)

[youowemeafavor]

(OOC: he'll be around! Join in any time.)

[notagagagirl]

At the bar there is a young, dark-haired girl in clothes that look like a confused mish-mash from a donation bin, who lives in an abandoned part of the London Underground.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, considering certain other patrons) her name is not Door, and she is not an Opener.

And she really, really doesn't care for the rats.

She's reading out of a textbook (one on triage and bandaging and all things that a certain someone of her acquaintance might need if he keeps being a durbrain) while snacking on a bowl of blueberries, her booted (heavily booted, with steel toes, and oddly, lace) feet swing.

[youowemeafavor]

This one's got a familiar look to her if not a familiar face; he moves past her with an old piece of stationery ("St. George's Hotel, London") in his hand.

Blast it, he's got no writing implement. He gives the girl another passing glance.

"I don't suppose you've got a pen or pencil I might use."

[notagagagirl]

She looks up (and frankly, is glad for the interruption - blood and the talk about it still isn't much her thing) and blinks at this decidedly odd person in front of her.

In her mental assessment she uses to figure out what, exactly, she's dealing with, the option of 'other' gets checked off quite a lot. It's not terribly reassuring.

"Yeah, sure." She slides over the inkwell and feather she had been using to scratch notes for herself.

She has seen a pencil in use, once, but she forgot to ask what it was called, and thus... ink and quill. It's either that or computers, and she doesn't touch computers if she doesn't have to.

[youowemeafavor]

Before he touches it, he nods to her. "What's your fee for its use?"

Everything has an associated cost. If it's too steep, he'll go back home and furnish himself with his own pen, although that would be a royal pain in the derriere. Having to count all those steps again: wasted effort if it's unnecessary.

[mr_v_and_mr_c]

(OOC: Welcome back to the madness that is Milliways! I'd join IC, but our friends here got bored and pulled someone's arm off, so they're in the cells for the next couple of days.)

[youowemeafavor]

[Tsk, tsk. Such behavior, Mr. Croup, Mr. Vandemar. It's a wonder the cells can hold you.

OOC: New player for the Marquis, but not a new player to M'ways! I can't wait till yours are out of the cells. My contact info's in the profile if you need it.]

[mr_v_and_mr_c]

(OOC: They'll be out Sunday-ish. Can't wait for that meat meeting either.)

[youowemeafavor]

[OOC: Excellent!]