Richard Harrington Summerby (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} the_richard) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} finnigans_rpg, |
Richard had skipped the initial meet up and Indian food, getting takeaway so he could work late at the office. Paperwork seemed to accumulate in direct proportion to the size of the contract, and the last one had been a big one. He told himself for the thousandth time he needed an office manager of some sort to help keep the piles of paper from spilling out the door. Especially because the senior partners still didn't believe in computers - even typewriters were too new-fangled for some of them.
Finally he was finished. A quick shower and shave in the tiny washroom attached to his office, a splash of bay rum aftershave, a clean shirt and a fresh suit, and he was ready to go.
It had been a little... difficult, the first time he'd gone into Wingbeats. Charlie had sort of been his inspiration in school. But Charlie seemed well enough adjusted to his new life, so Rich made it a point to not comment on what had happened. It could have happened to any of them on any of the Reservations.
He hadn't really been based back in London long enough to line up any convenient 'plus ones', so he was alone as he made his way to the bar and ordered a double bourbon, neat. Leaning back against the bar, he looked around to see who else was there.