Wandering Fleeting Transient Souls (transient_soul) wrote in best_deadly_sin, @ 2011-04-09 13:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | father_lucifer, haganenomore, hand_of_sorrow, supermans_dead, transient_soul |
Not quite where he was aiming, but... whatever works
Well. Alfons wasn't entirely certain what to think. On one hand, he didn't do anything, he had simply been walking along the streets of London mulling over his predicament and attempting to figure out how to get around the fact that while he was finally understanding Hohenheim's research on getting to Amestris, it was focused on alchemy. Which he couldn't do.
On the other hand, this clearly was not London, and the more he looked, the more he saw that made him think that it wasn't even Earth anymore.
Maybe somehow he did stumble on Amestris. Well, as long as he was away from Earth, it didn't matter quite so much. There was the chance he'd found a worse sort of hell than Earth was becoming, but if that were the case, he would deal with it when it happened.
Of course, the further he walked, the less convinced he was it was Amestris, from the information Edward had given him. Uncertain of his next move, he decided to find a place for a drink so he could go over the papers in his suitcase and figure out maybe what to do next.
The building was clearly a pub of some sort, and despite the name, the several people he caught sight of as they entered and departed looked respectable enough. Alfons tentatively pushed open the door to The Best Deadly Sin, and walked through the partially empty establishment, past tables of dining patrons, to the bar and set the suitcase at his feet as he sat down.
"Pint of beer, bitte?" Then he caught himself, and corrected it to "please?"