| |
[Feb. 19th, 2009|09:03 pm] |
*appears to be pouring over the Cape Daily News in the corner of her regular lunch café* *is actually people-watching with a faint sort of interest (he is cheating on his wife with her and she is cooking the books at her company and he likes underage boys and she thinks no one notices the track marks on her arm and won't it be terribly interesting when if this all comes out?)*
*offers the waiter a distant smile as he refills her water glass but is distracted by the buzzing of her phone, which is sitting in the centre of the table* *looks at the incoming number with curiosity until a small (more genuine?) smile touches her lips as she recognises the area code* (*now, who does she know in Gondolin?*)
*clears her throat and answers the phone in very gentle tones (causing the waiter to do a double-take)(she's usually so harsh and demanding, after all)* Hello, Vairë speaking. (It didn't take long at all, did it?) |
|
|
| |
[Feb. 19th, 2009|10:31 pm] |
*Arrives home from work some time after midnight.*
*Throws her jacket over the back of a chair (there's a time and a place for coat-hangers, and judges that this is not one of them).*
*Paces around and launches into her nightly after-action report for Elemmakil*
What a night. First of all this woman kept sending back her salad because she said her tomatoes were too cold. Yeah. Her tomatoes were too cold. Apparently the concept of keeping salad in the fridge is beyond her ken. Then there was this obnoxious couple who were as nissed as pewts before they even came into the restaurant, I don't even know why they were even let in but guess who had to deal with them? Yeah, muggins because I'm *airquotes* "perky!" I worked my bloody arse off for them and then they only left a quid. A quid! AND I had to deal with this office party that came in, which was a night's work in itself but they tipped well so that's something.
So anyway, what I'm trying to say is that the boss gave me a bottle of wine from the cellar because I worked so hard. You like red, right? |
|
|
| |
[Feb. 19th, 2009|11:38 pm] |
*Wakes up on the floor of a hotel room...somewhere.*
*Blinks at a chink of sunlight coming through the gap between the curtains as he slowly tries to piece together what's happened to him.*
Argument with the wife, got kicked out, stayed at Ulmo's for a while, decided to sort fucking life out, then...
*Frowns and scratches his head before noticing the significantly cleared-out minibar.*
Oh.
*Fumbles for the phone on the bedside table and takes a good couple of minutes to work out that he needs to dial '0' for an outside line.* |
|
|
pleased
accomplished
drunk