[closed]

[stillshrill]

Who: Amell persuaderoll and Anders stillshrill
When: December 24, after those minor echoes ...
Where: Daylen's apartment of mysteriously appearing mage robes
What: Anders still thinks this is all an extremely elaborate prank courtesy of Improv Everywhere. Daylen thinks he's been drugged, possibly by Improv Everywhere. No one should trip alone.
Warnings: Bad language probably, I don't know



Anders arrives toting a brick-red messenger bag that bulges oddly here and there. The first thing he does, upon being admitted to Daylen's House of Chic Minimalist Furnishings and Bourgeois Accessories (subject to renaming should Anders find reason to change his opinion thereof), is to produce a couple of face masks, the sort a person might wear to avoid inhaling sawdust or other unsavory particulates during a fit of DIY home repair.

"If I could jury-rig one to stay on Dark's nose," he says -- apologetically -- "I'd have brought it. Better safe than sorry, don't you think?"

Comments

[persuaderoll]

Dark is lounging peaceably on the back seat on a rug, alternating glancing out the passenger window and ahead. Daylen is just glad he's grown past the period where he used to like to pace the back seat -- for one it had made it hard to see out the back window, but on top of that he'd been worried if he had to stop suddenly Dark might be thrown across the car.

Looking away from the rear view mirror (where he'd been watching Dark as they sat at the traffic lights, making sure he wasn't up to something) he glances sideways at Anders and frowns at the question. The tattooed woman (and doesn't that sound mysterious, like a character that should be in some sort of mystery book rather than a peculiar memory) and her conversation were still clear when he pulled them up. Distance from his accommodation hadn't seemed to dim anything yet.

"Yes," he says quietly, fingers shifting on the steering wheel as he waits for the lights to change. "Sigrun."