Things were not going as well for Moriarty here in Preya as they did in London. There were new species. There were immortal something-or-others and it was annoying having to figure them all out. It was harder to keep his nose out of trouble when there were so many other ways of being found out, ways that were beyond human. He had kept to himself for the last several weeks, although he did manage to dip his fingers into a few waves of trouble waters. Still, he could not help but feel delight at seeing a familiar face, all things considered. It was difficult for him to tear his stare away, but he did finally, and all to idly sip from his glass.
"Capitalization was always your way of doing things. Your family and their punctuation, bringing an end to all sentences, regardless of who wrote them from the start." He leaned back in his chair, and observed Mycroft. Indeed, he was difficult to read, but that made the challenge more fun. "And here you are, writing your own story, good for you. What genre will you be experimenting, hmm? Horror, fantasy, romance... There are many and you know me, I love a good story."