Suzi Darley is curled up in a chair reading a thick Braille book. One tentacle skims the words lightly as she watches the bar. It is, she thinks, reassuring to be able to watch rather than have to divide her attention.

Much as she didn't trust the bar before, she trusts the place even less now. Comfort, well, comfort is a long, long way away.

*Looking shaken, Thom comes in, hair tousled, eyes wide. He goes straight to the bar and orders a drink; sits down with it, bare feet hanging above the floor.*

The door opens, and Xas steps through, tapping snow off his boots and unwinding the scarf from around his neck ( Read more... )

Judas sits down at the bar, expectant. Turns to face the room and leans back with his elbows on its surface.

The front door opens, and Xas steps through, hair a little disheveled and sunglasses hanging lightly from one hand.

Someone was driving with the top down, apparently.

The city noises fade behind him as the door closes, and he heads over to Bar to get a glass of wine.

There's a particular vintage he's been missing, of late.

Archibald Craven, of Misselthwaite Manor, Yorkshire, has spent the day tramping in the hills about Lake Como. He has been so deeply buried in his thoughts that he forgot the time. When dusk comes, he is too far away from his villa to return to it. Fortunately, there is a small inn, with warm yellow light shining from the windows, a little way down ( Read more... )

The scenery outside the door (were you looking over his shoulder as it swings quickly open) might jar a very little. Grey, certainly, but not quite the right shade, and the streets don't look nearly narrow enough for London. It can only be a glancing impression in any case, and it's unlikely anyone would notice, since he takes a couple of hurried ( Read more... )

*Thom sits at the bar, legs pulled up on the stool, waiting for someone to buy him a drink.*

Ennis hadn't seen so much destruction in...

well, it'd been a while, anyway. Up early and working, two days in a row. Two days ain't nothing, really, but every man needs a break now and then, and some water, so that's what he's doing, out by the fence.

There's a corner table, in the back. It's deep in shadows, but if you can tell, Ennis' sitting there, cigarette in hand, hat pulled over his eyes. Sure, he's hungover, but when you wake up at four thirty, it's mostly gone by this time of day.