“It was strange,” she murmured. “Saw a lot of ‘motor-cars’. Rode the… big vessel into Ravenmoore, like you said.” The word ‘train’ had slipped her mind at the moment. What she didn’t say was that being around all that life had made her more comfortable. So this country wasn’t one big, barren frozen stretch of land. It was home to many. As many as London in Ravenmoore.
She took a swig of the whiskey and enjoyed the burn, the warmth it brought as it slipped down her throat and she looked at the glass. “Fuck, this is good. Saw you grab it out from under the counter. It is some special or fancy shit or do you just have a wide, rare collection to bring in more money per drink?” She held it up to the light, squinting at it. “It’s dark. I ain’t used to that. All the swill I drank was clear, like water… ‘cept for the wine. Never much cared for wine, though.”
Anne took another hearty swig and said, “The place is nice. Ain’t too crowded… looks stable. Not like it’s trying to be something it ain’t.”
Putting the glass down momentarily, but running the tips of her fingers around the rim she said, “What you got ‘round your neck? Looks like a crystal. ’S it expensive?” It looked too pretty for his aesthetic, somehow but maybe he wanted people to look at it. Know he owned something expensive and flashy.