getting too old for this [OPEN]

[badge-177.livejournal.com]

A table in the public room in the Valhalla Inn is currently housing a middle-aged man with an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth. From the look of his clothing (a faded brown shirt, slightly less faded breeches, and fairly solid looking boots), he hasn't taken advantage of the vouchers for a new set of clothes. From the look of his face, he's less than pleased.

The likely reason for that (or the immediate one, at least) is spread out in front of him- a copy of the Bumworth Pamphlet, two maps, and a battered notebook with a few lines scrawled in pencil. The pencil that did the scrawling is being tapped idly against the edge of the table.

Maybe he can be interrupted. Or not.

Comments

[tropfatale.livejournal.com]

Sonja eyes him (and the cigar) for half-second longer before saying anything, though she prefaces it with a one-shouldered little shrug. She's not keen on anything about staying here; too much government, too many rumors about that militia, and mixed living still strikes her as bizarre.

"It's a whole big city out there," she says, hoisting her bag's strap higher on her shoulder. "Can't live off this place forever, even if all the welcoming literature suggests we stick to the path."

[badge-177.livejournal.com]

Vimes lets out a "hah" at the phrase welcoming literature. It's a distinctly uncomplimentary sound.

"You've been here a while?"

[tropfatale.livejournal.com]

"Long enough." She settles to lean against the wall, which presses the scabbard on her back into her spine a little--it's not a pleasant feeling, but that's oddly reassuring. Her tone of voice is pretty nonchalant, less expressive than her face.

"You?"

[badge-177.livejournal.com]

"Too long." It reached that point about a second after he arrived. He could give a more specific answer, but that would be giving more away than he's comfortable with yet. And it wouldn't be as accurate.