Who: Marisol & Kennet What: A new arrival When: October 20th, Mid-afternoon Where: Off to Kennet's we go. Rating: More than likely, not very high. The QB might be a little suggestive.
Neither Marisol or the Queen had known the Cirque would arrive in London. How could they? But the Queen felt it later in the day when Marisol was washing dishes in a restaurant to pay her way to her next stop. Time to go, the Queen had insisted in the back of her mind until Marisol couldn't stop ignoring the buzzing. So she left, hands still damp, wrapped in a thinning coat. She followed the directions of the Queen, who had an incredible sense of direction as it was. They were still setting up for the evening's festivities when Marisol arrived at the gate but the Queen insisted they simply walk right in. It would be fine.
That had been about ten minutes ago. Now she was standing outside of a trailer, hands still deeply tucked into her coat to warm them, still damp. Is this a good idea? Marisol asked the Queen for perhaps the millionth time. We already signed a contract, dear, responded the Queen. The thrum inside of her grew for a moment lulling Mari into a state of relaxation while the Queen forced her hand to lift and knock on the door. Too late to turn back now. It was done. The buzzing lessened and Mari shook her head to clear away the sleepiness.
She shoved her hand back into her coat, half-turning away from the door to look out at the people working. She didn't know the word for the job they did as they set things up - even though most of it already looked constructed. Hm.