"... Tea," Saga admitted with a rueful laugh, "but I thought I'd ask first, just to make sure. It's never a good idea to assume anything." Truer words had never been spoken-- she was living proof of that, and that wasn't even taking the rest of her family into consideration. And now she was going to reveal more than she was usually comfortable with to a man who was almost a total stranger. But what choice did she have? It wasn't like anyone in Whitechapel was going to care about who this Saga Laskaris really was, if Alabaster even spoke of his experience.
She finally stopped in front of a faded brick building, digging her key out of her jacket pocket and unlocking the freshly painted white door (the only new part of the outside) with a loud click.
"It's a little messy," she warned Alabaster, stepping inside. "But I wasn't expecting company-- Duff, I'm back! Behave yourself, all right?"
As if in response, there was an audible clink and a spoon skidded across the cluttered table visible from the entryway. To most normal people, they wouldn't have seen who was responsible, but to those with enough spiritual ability, the fluffy black tom now pawing at the spoon was hard to miss.
The rest of the apartment was kept reasonably tidy, with stacks of books propped against one wall and a few more adorning the white couch and keeping the spoon company on the table. Three maps hung on the remaining walls, along with some paintings of bright, swirling colors and a picture or two, and no less than eight clocks inhabited every other room of the place.
no subject
She finally stopped in front of a faded brick building, digging her key out of her jacket pocket and unlocking the freshly painted white door (the only new part of the outside) with a loud click.
"It's a little messy," she warned Alabaster, stepping inside. "But I wasn't expecting company-- Duff, I'm back! Behave yourself, all right?"
As if in response, there was an audible clink and a spoon skidded across the cluttered table visible from the entryway. To most normal people, they wouldn't have seen who was responsible, but to those with enough spiritual ability, the fluffy black tom now pawing at the spoon was hard to miss.
The rest of the apartment was kept reasonably tidy, with stacks of books propped against one wall and a few more adorning the white couch and keeping the spoon company on the table. Three maps hung on the remaining walls, along with some paintings of bright, swirling colors and a picture or two, and no less than eight clocks inhabited every other room of the place.