Informal visit (For Metody)
Jan. 4th, 2010 02:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The Shadow is hard at work coordinating things from the Rettigue apartment, today. The break from hunting out Khan's activities in his alternate's world is merely an opportunity to chase criminals in his own. Unavailable to gather forces for multiple raids and without the time to head up those operations himself, he's stuck compiling information and passing it to legal authorities through very careful channels. It's a lot of paperwork, and very tedious, but it gives him a physical rest he needs from his other activities.
When Metody arrives, he's in the most worn spot in the whole place; the center of the black plush sofa, bent over the coffee table. He regards his visitor over the rims of his reading glasses. "You've looked better. Coffee or tea?" The paperwork is shuffled neatly into a folder, out of sight.
The apartment is spacious and spartan, with sleek dark furniture. There's a grouping of the sofa and a few black armchairs around a black metal coffee table, all arranged on a vast Oriental rug. A bookshelf built into the wall opposite the sofa holds a television set that is archaic by Metody's standards, fewer books than one might expect, a sleek stereo system, and in spots of honour a card bearing Chinese calligraphy by Myra and the wrappings and knife Metody sent for Christmas. A floor to ceiling window dominates another wall, but the drapes are only open a crack. Apart from the kitchen doorway and a hall, there's little else to be seen in this room. It has quite a bit of open, empty space and the feel of somewhere that is only sporadically lived in.
When Metody arrives, he's in the most worn spot in the whole place; the center of the black plush sofa, bent over the coffee table. He regards his visitor over the rims of his reading glasses. "You've looked better. Coffee or tea?" The paperwork is shuffled neatly into a folder, out of sight.
The apartment is spacious and spartan, with sleek dark furniture. There's a grouping of the sofa and a few black armchairs around a black metal coffee table, all arranged on a vast Oriental rug. A bookshelf built into the wall opposite the sofa holds a television set that is archaic by Metody's standards, fewer books than one might expect, a sleek stereo system, and in spots of honour a card bearing Chinese calligraphy by Myra and the wrappings and knife Metody sent for Christmas. A floor to ceiling window dominates another wall, but the drapes are only open a crack. Apart from the kitchen doorway and a hall, there's little else to be seen in this room. It has quite a bit of open, empty space and the feel of somewhere that is only sporadically lived in.
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Date: 2010-01-29 07:33 am (UTC)Both of the mortar and pestle and the hand cranked variety. Between the two, he feels he can deal with anything.
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Date: 2010-01-29 07:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-30 02:12 am (UTC)He blinks once at the size of the bag, but reaches out to take it with a smile. "Gosh. Thankyou."
Maybe he'll make one cup of coffee for himself. Just one.
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Date: 2010-01-30 02:22 am (UTC)"Not a problem. I always keep some on hand, in every apartment." He resumes his seat with a quiet wheeze, and settles back.
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Date: 2010-01-30 02:31 am (UTC)He grins, cradling the bag in the crook of one arm like a small baby. "I will have to keep that in mind."
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Date: 2010-01-30 03:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-01 05:35 pm (UTC)"Sure. But I hope you'll accept some meat in return. I promise, only standard animals."
((Sorry! The past few days were a bit tougher than I thought they'd be.))
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Date: 2010-02-01 07:05 pm (UTC)((That's fine! You might look into the writing meme I posted the other day, when you have time.))
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Date: 2010-02-02 06:04 pm (UTC)He hesitates, then fidgets with the bag of coffee as he tries to think of something else to say. Nothing comes to mind.
"I...guess I ought to, uh - "
((Oh, spiffy. I'll be sure to check it tonight!))
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Date: 2010-02-02 06:31 pm (UTC)"Mmm." The old man regards his nervous attempt at speech with an impassive face. "You should go home and rest. Make the next report when you feel up to it."
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Date: 2010-02-02 09:18 pm (UTC)Much-much-much. He had the brief urge to chant the word after saying it so many times. He resisted; it was more from a cracked kind of social perversity than any real craziness, and would not have helped. Chanting never helped.
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Date: 2010-02-02 09:56 pm (UTC)Likely he wouldn't know what to think if Metody started chanting, though.