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Turn the right way down any street, glance down an unexpected alley, maybe you'll see it out of the corner of your eye. Maybe you'll catch a hint of the music drifting out of the invitingly open wooden doors. There's always something. It wants to be found, this in, this bar, this club, this pub, this restaurant. It has many
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Illyana hasn't been out in a while, not socially anyway, but remembered to wash the blood off ehr hands before slipping into a pretty handmade dress and 'porting to World's End.
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So she shakes her head and smiles. "Hello, Mike. You are looking well." And male.
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He has two glasses of champagne. He may have had them all along. Or they just appeared. Who can really say? Well, Mike could, probably, but he just holds one out.
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"Good solstice," she says. "Big things coming."
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"I am not sorry I turned you into a woman, Mike," she says. "Because I think you learned something. But I AM sorry I can be such a brat." Every word is pronounced carefully between sips of champagne. "You are smarter than you look."
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He holds out a small silver pocket compass, dangling from a similarly silver chain.
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And smirking. You know, just a little.
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"Okay," she says. "Thank you." She pauses, thinking. "I did not get you anything. Did you want something?"
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"I have been busy," Illyana replies carefully. She's had a few drinks and her accent threatens to overwhelm her words. "Going many places. How are you, Conner?"
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