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[mm_catslash]

[In which the mun happily reuses some entrance posts. Blurbs? Posts. :D?]

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[pi_wakawaka]

James' string is shiny and so Tiwa peers at it,

"That's pretty."

[border_prince]

James looks up.

His memories of that inexplicable, drunk-without-drinking evening are a little jumbled, but he remembers Tiwa.

"Thanks," he says with a smile. "Got it from home. As far as we can tell, it's just a string."

That had almost been disappointing. You get used to the Rift coughing up such amazing things.

[pi_wakawaka]

"Even string can be shiny. I remember that you're fun."

[border_prince]

James grins at that.

"That was quite a night, eh?" he says. "I'm still not sure what happened. It was fun, though."

[pi_wakawaka]

Peron is getting hugged by Tiwa, who looks better, the scars are there to stay but she looks better,

"Are you okay?"

[artofthpossible]

Usually, an unexpected hug would startle him. But from Tiwa, it seems - well, not so unexpected. He even manages to return it, though not quite as warmly.

"I'm all right," Perón says. Despite the cane. "How have you been?"

They haven't talked since the rescue. She looks well enough, but it's good to be certain.

[pi_wakawaka]

"I'm alright. I hope you're not too hurt."

Its not exactly a lie or the truth, today's been a good day.

[artofthpossible]

"I'll be all right," Perón says. "Nothing that won't heal."

The doctors in the infirmary say that he'll be ready to walk on his own in a week or two. He looks forward to that and he doesn't, all at once.

[mm_mono]

Another man joins Perón by the fire, also with the intention of reading.

He drops a huge (huge) messenger bag at his feet and pulls what looks to be a case file out of it, and settles back to read.

He might be a little distracting, though--he hums quietly while he reads, and wears a seemingly permanent smile.

[artofthpossible]

One gets used to a certain noise level in Milliways - it is, after a restaurant, not a library - but in spite of that, some things still tend to be more distracting than others. Humming is especially difficult to contend with; the mind has a way of trying to follow the melody, whether one wants it to or not. After a moment or two, Perón glances up from his book.

"Do you mind?"

[mm_mono]

The humming stops as Grimmer looks up from his work, his face a paragon of innocence.

"Me?"

[artofthpossible]

"Yes," Perón says, with exaggerated patience.