Re: [PM to Join] Natural Disasters
Posted: Sun Aug 16, 2020 10:29 am
Evening, Bethas 18, 2720
Somewhere Cheap
Somewhere Cheap
Chrysanthe grinned at Baz when he echoed her joke Charlie’s joke calling them old didn’t phase her; Chrysanthe laughed at it. They had been out of Brunnhold for four years now, and she had cherished each of them. She felt a brief pang of curiosity at Charlie’s actual age - surely to have generated so many stories he must have been in the Rose for two or three years? She rather hoped it wasn’t only one; the thought, and the pace of dissolution it implied, was nearly frightening. If, Chrysanthe thought, if his stories were true. The odd thing was that she suspected they were - at least in part.
They couldn’t be all true, Chrysanthe decided. Charlie couldn’t really have made a habit or following strangers down Voedale alleys - or even an exception of it. She couldn’t quite imagine the sort of urges that would drive one to such dark places. Abruptly she became aware that some part of her wanted it to be a joke.
But Charlie was laughing and grinning and - perhaps it was the beer - but Chrysanthe found it rather easy to dismiss such concerns, after all or else at least for a little while. It was a story, she told herself. Bits were true and bits were not, and it wasn’t her place any way to fuss over him. He was an adult; surely he could handle himself. Anyway, she had the oddest feeling he had rather enjoyed her consternation.
The appearance of the waitress was as unexpected as it was pleasant, involving not only Charlie’s meal, but also all the drinks they had ordered.
Chrysanthe finished another pickled vegetable, and then took a small, polite sip of her beer, and then a second one, larger and longer. It really was rather good. She set the glass back down, and went back to her also rather good food. For a moment the three of them were all rather cheerfully occupied in eating and drinking, before Baz brought them back to the story.
Why? Baz had asked. Chrysanthe set her fork down and sat back with her beer, turning back to Charlie. She was in the middle of a sip when he went on to discuss big hands, and it was frankly catastrophic. Chrysanthe snorted, caught in a laugh; beer came fizzing out of her nose.
Chrysanthe shrieked; she doubled forward, grabbing a napkin and pressing it rather urgently to her face. There was a bit of beer splattered on the table, and she didn’t dare look at the floor. Worse, her nose burned rather awfully.
Worse still, she couldn’t stop laughing.
“Oh good lady,” Chrysanthe gasped, straightening up and wiping at her damp eyes, sniffling painfully. “I’m - I really do apologize -“ she collapsed into another fit of laughter, shoulders shaking helplessly.
They couldn’t be all true, Chrysanthe decided. Charlie couldn’t really have made a habit or following strangers down Voedale alleys - or even an exception of it. She couldn’t quite imagine the sort of urges that would drive one to such dark places. Abruptly she became aware that some part of her wanted it to be a joke.
But Charlie was laughing and grinning and - perhaps it was the beer - but Chrysanthe found it rather easy to dismiss such concerns, after all or else at least for a little while. It was a story, she told herself. Bits were true and bits were not, and it wasn’t her place any way to fuss over him. He was an adult; surely he could handle himself. Anyway, she had the oddest feeling he had rather enjoyed her consternation.
The appearance of the waitress was as unexpected as it was pleasant, involving not only Charlie’s meal, but also all the drinks they had ordered.
Chrysanthe finished another pickled vegetable, and then took a small, polite sip of her beer, and then a second one, larger and longer. It really was rather good. She set the glass back down, and went back to her also rather good food. For a moment the three of them were all rather cheerfully occupied in eating and drinking, before Baz brought them back to the story.
Why? Baz had asked. Chrysanthe set her fork down and sat back with her beer, turning back to Charlie. She was in the middle of a sip when he went on to discuss big hands, and it was frankly catastrophic. Chrysanthe snorted, caught in a laugh; beer came fizzing out of her nose.
Chrysanthe shrieked; she doubled forward, grabbing a napkin and pressing it rather urgently to her face. There was a bit of beer splattered on the table, and she didn’t dare look at the floor. Worse, her nose burned rather awfully.
Worse still, she couldn’t stop laughing.
“Oh good lady,” Chrysanthe gasped, straightening up and wiping at her damp eyes, sniffling painfully. “I’m - I really do apologize -“ she collapsed into another fit of laughter, shoulders shaking helplessly.