Arriving to places is never easy.
Returning to places is even harder.
"It wouldn't be if you hadn't been away for so long, hun," Agatha kindly lectured me. "People won't forget my debts in a short time," I retaliated with chagrin. "Which reminds me, you owe me gold." "Love the pie, Agatha."
The night spent on Agatha's sofa ( which she kindly lent to me after promising I would leave my smelly boots out in the garden ) made things very clear to me. I didn't like owing to people, especially to old friends, because they are the only people I actually feel obligated to pay back. Not that I would owe Agatha much: the sofa was too narrow and I kept rolling to the floor all night. To Agatha's defence, the space would have sufficed if I hadn't insisted on sleeping with my bag. Illegal ring trade had me slightly neurotic.
My first night back in Barton was full of desperate ponder. I got up several times, walked around the shop, tried on some of the jewelry, failed at making coffee and threw the results out of the kitchen window. Scanning the street wearily my eyes caught shadowy figures flashing by. Night time wasn't quite as safe as it used to be. The Animated sure were ruining things for thieves and secret lovers. Dress code for waltzing around the town at night used to be black billowy cloacks, bird masks, flashy scabbards ( often with no sword inside ) and so forth. Nowadays it was running shoes.
The reason I'm so good at coming up with excuses and blaming others was the fact I was a lousy runner. As if things weren't already looking bad enough.
At 5 am I heard rustling in my brain where a plan had begun to form.
First for the search of partners in crime.
Kradvity · Tue Dec 30, 2008 @ 07:27pm · 1 Comments |