Post by Arthur Wyndham on Aug 2, 2009 22:06:32 GMT -5
The night air was cool and crisp as Wyndham sauntered through the small town of Drakborough. The slight breeze tugged at his air, and for once he let it get slightly mussed up. He knew that there was no substitute for the perfect messy look than the actual slightly messy one. He ran his right hand through his hair to intensify the effect, and was pleased with the results when he snuck a look in one of the shop windows. He looked good tonight.
Wyndham was in perfectly good spirits as he had just met a woman who lived in the town. He had just been exploring when apparently he had caught her attention. He went over to introduce himself, so of course they spent most of the night together. She had shown him most of the important sites in the town, which would have taken him at least a week to learn of otherwise. He would have liked to be in her company longer, but had needed to leave rather quickly as her husband had arrived at home.
Rather than being angry, he was happy. He had just had what he would call a pleasant experience, and was now making his way back to the tiny room he had temporarily rented from the bartender at Joker's. Wyndham checked his watch; it was only an hour past midnight. He had time for a quick nightcap. Stepping into the bar, he noticed that the bar was almost devoid of its usual cheerful bustle. He sat down at his now-usual place behind the counter.
"Rosewood mulled mead," he said, ordering his favorite drink. A nice night was something to celebrate. Looking around, he saw few other patrons at the bar so late. Only those who had no families to go home to, or those who didn't want to go home. They all sat alone like he did, but unlike him didn't seem to be pleasantly content with life. Unable to help himself, he had a satisfied smirk as he looked around the room. He was clearly in better shape than any of these people.
Wyndham was in perfectly good spirits as he had just met a woman who lived in the town. He had just been exploring when apparently he had caught her attention. He went over to introduce himself, so of course they spent most of the night together. She had shown him most of the important sites in the town, which would have taken him at least a week to learn of otherwise. He would have liked to be in her company longer, but had needed to leave rather quickly as her husband had arrived at home.
Rather than being angry, he was happy. He had just had what he would call a pleasant experience, and was now making his way back to the tiny room he had temporarily rented from the bartender at Joker's. Wyndham checked his watch; it was only an hour past midnight. He had time for a quick nightcap. Stepping into the bar, he noticed that the bar was almost devoid of its usual cheerful bustle. He sat down at his now-usual place behind the counter.
"Rosewood mulled mead," he said, ordering his favorite drink. A nice night was something to celebrate. Looking around, he saw few other patrons at the bar so late. Only those who had no families to go home to, or those who didn't want to go home. They all sat alone like he did, but unlike him didn't seem to be pleasantly content with life. Unable to help himself, he had a satisfied smirk as he looked around the room. He was clearly in better shape than any of these people.