rhymes with demon: liz

[tantric_slacker]

Hard to say exactly when the note is left with the Bar, addressed Liz Whitaker. Harder still to say how it was left.

It is written on plain white paper.

The handwriting is hard to pin down.

It's time you and I had a chat.

Don't you think?

Comments

[porcupineliz]

Liz spent the night at home, in the end. But she's come back into Milliways, after less sleep than she would like, and approached the Bar in search of coffee.

Right now she's looking down at the note, rereading it, sipping from a steaming mug.

Well.

She leaves notes at the bar for Matt, for Nita, for Sherlock, and (in case) for Jordie; the latter includes the silver chain bracelet she brought for him. She's got another around her own wrist, a silver pendant on a chain around her neck, and a silver spoon tucked up each sleeve and held with an elastic band; she's also got salt in her pockets, along with a few other odds and ends.

She's holding the note in one hand when she starts toward the stairs, heading for the library.

[porcupineliz]

They really do.

Liz steps into the room, firmly closes the door behind her, and sets her back to it.

And waits for her eyes to adjust.

[tantric_slacker]

The shelves reach precariously high, and they seem crowded together except for a few avenues: left, right, forward.

The shelves seem to part into a sort of clearing after a few aisles.

[porcupineliz]

Liz doesn't move.

"Demon." Flat. "Are you here?"

[tantric_slacker]

From up ahead-- seeming, at least, to come from that emptier space--

A dry rustle.

I've got a name, you know.

[porcupineliz]

It sounds like something dead, Matt said.

"Very well," she says, "tell it to me and I'll use it."

[tantric_slacker]

Well aren't you a spitfire.

I just wanted to sit and talk.

Liz Whitaker.

[porcupineliz]

"In polite circles," she says after a moment, "this is where I would say 'You have the advantage of me.'"

[tantric_slacker]

Accurate circles, maybe.

The aisles between shelves, to the left and the right, seem to be growing smaller-- or maybe it's just that their vanishing points are nearer, too near to make sense.

Only the one towards the center of the room remains clear.

[porcupineliz]

"Maybe."

It doesn't know. It doesn't know that she knows its name. Not for certain. But it suspects, maybe.

"Was there something particular you wanted to talk about?"

[tantric_slacker]

Not if you're going to be rude.

[porcupineliz]

"Oh, this isn't rude." Brittle-cheerful. "You haven't seen me be rude yet."

[tantric_slacker]

A rustle.

Are you gonna come over here?

Or do I have to go to you?

That's a trick question, by the way.

[porcupineliz]

"Well."

Coolly, as though she's honestly considering it.

"I came this far."

And she starts toward the clear space, her tread measured and firm.

[tantric_slacker]

The space is not, as it happens, entirely clear. There are two armchairs, comfortable and worn, arranged at a distance from one another.

One of them is empty.

The other contains what looks like a column of shadow, twisting and curling in the general outline of a human shape.

It has the attitude, if not the delineation, of a smile.

Nice accessories.

[porcupineliz]

Liz studies the tableau for a moment before answering.

"Thank you. Very kind."