|gretchen watkins is the spice of life (swashbuckley) wrote in wished,|
@ 2010-06-02 20:33:00
|Entry tags:||!1998: 06, !incomplete, gretchen watkins, weiland mulciber|
WHO: Gretchen Watkins & Weiland Mulciber
WHAT: Gretchen is delivering something
WHERE: the Cardinal in Marlborough, Wiltshire
WARNINGS/RATING/STATUS: Sketchy things inside/PG for now/Ongoing
Flipping up her hood, Gretchen wrapped her robes around herself and made her way down the street. It had been a long time since she'd dealt with anyone but Trevor and there was a part of her that worried that her instincts weren't up to par any more. She felt conspicuous in her robes, even though she wasn't the only one wearing them, but had felt even more overly when she'd contemplated taking a polyjuice potion. She'd settled for the hooded robe and charmed her hair a dark, nondescript mop of curly brown before she'd left.
The Cardinal was up ahead and although a part of her wanted to reach up and dart her fingers across the slight bulge of the watch that dangled under her shirt, she stopped herself. It was there, she could feel the cool metal against her skin and didn't need to draw attention to herself. Adjusting the hood, Gretchen straightened her shoulders, silently berating herself for second guessing things.
She knew how to handle herself. She'd done so for years. She had her wand and her wits, and the statue she'd obtained in Egypt, and if things went completely balls up, she had, as a last resort, the watch.
Pushing into the pub, Gretchen manoeuvred her way to the bar, taking in the room as she passed. Settling on a stool, she ordered a firewhiskey and, when it was delivered, did as ordered and asked for Malfalda.