WHO: UKterpe & Padraig WHEN: April 27th WHERE: Padraig's townhouse WHAT: saint is feeling doooown
Euterpe could see the steaming escaping the hot takeaway food she carried in her arms up the steps to Padraig's door, the weather still cold but not quite freezing anymore. Still, she'd forgotten her gloves all day today and it had made her moody. But, Euterpe reasoned, she could push away her moodiness to take care of Padraig, whatever the hell it was that the saint was doing.
She'd looked up the date he'd mentioned, the thing. She'd read the wikipedia page to try and get a feel for what he was talking about, although she'd already forgotten any details. She supposed that didn't matter. A violent uprising, lots of civilians died, the Irish rebels lost. That had been the gist of it and should carry her through any conversations.
Euterpe let herself in and dumped the food bag onto the coffee table. Then she straightened up again and looked around before calling out, "you here, Naomhan?"