Re: victor & irene; mariner's inn at midnight
"I would think that depends on the manner of companionship that one is seeking." Victor was gifted with all the wrong sorts of imagination, if he had flights of fancy, they were born from graves or goblets of love potion. He did not often fantasize about subjects other than death and love. Neither seemed the sort of thing that one willingly sought in this seaside tavern. The harlotry and gambling was not kept to the shadows, it was open to the exposures of midnight with the knowledge that men of law cared little about neighborhoods of squalor until a body turned up. So while Victor was here for neither of those pursuits, he could easily foresee the reason that others flocked here.
But not her. Not the woman in the coat. Compulsively curious, Victor tilted his head. His hair was shorn closer to the skull than was fashionable, but he found that it made for better practicality. His eyes focused visibly, pupils fighting violently for the right to expand despite the onslaught of narcotica. He did not know her, although he did not expect to. He recognized several from his rare visits to this Inn, but she was not one of them.
"I would not usually stay so late, but my… friend," he fought to make the word stick, but it was not right. Not right at all. "He is not the kind to keep a watch, you see."