And they did cast lots which of them should go...

[darlinirishgirl]

In one corner, there is Fiona, who has recovered, more or less, from the strange events of earlier. Whether that's a good thing is entirely debatable, as she is curled up on a couch, sketching away in her notebook.

Svetlana is near the fireplace, feeling very restless and in need of something to do. She's persuing a cookbook in the hopes she'll

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[silver_maxwell]

Max flops down on Fiona's couch, giving her a grin.

"So the pretty lady's an artist, too?" It's not quite a drawl. "Good, artists are my favorite kinda people."

[darlinirishgirl]

Fiona looks up and grins at him. "An artist? Not me. This is just sketching, that's all. My talents are elsewhere."

Suggestive grin? Surely you jest.

[silver_maxwell]

He gives Fiona a mostly-innocent look. "Yeah? Do tell." He's a little disappointed about the not-being-an-artist thing, but shh.

[darlinirishgirl]

"I think I demonstrated that before, hmm?"

[impossible_thng]

Martha, somehow, managed to get away from Jack. He's not bothered by this, except that he's worried about her. Not going to track her down, but he'll hang around the lobby just in case she passes by.

Which is when he takes notice of Molokov, and it's been a good thirty years or so since he saw him. Naturally, he goes to sit down next to him, flashing him one of those typically Jack smiles. "Alexander. Haven't seen you in a while."

[molokovcocktail]

Molokov looks up sharply at the sound of his name. He offers Jack a polite smile. "Jack," he says after a moment.

He wants to grab Jack by the throat, shove him up the wall and make it very clear that the other man is to never touch Walter again and the consequences should he do so.

Failing that, he'd like to just shoot him, but then, he'd promised Walter he'd warn him first.

"The Inn let you go back for awhile?"

[impossible_thng]

Jack raises an eyebrow at him, studying him silently for a moment. He's different from the last time Jack saw him, and Jack's trying to put his finger on just what the difference is.

"A while." He laughs softly. "You could say that. Thirty-some years. But it likes to play those games with me, so I'm not surprised."

[molokovcocktail]

He stares, momentarily forgetting his animosity with Jack. "Thirty years? You hide it very well."

He's not really surprised as he sounds - the Inn tends to do that, but still.