Re: The Fortune Teller/ The Soldier
Brows arched at the butchering of her name, and here she had thought offering L. would have been a solution, but apparently it opposed his sense of propriety. Yet he mentioned the bash to his head, and she glanced down, curiosity piqued. "You were wounded?" She inquired. Was drinking so heavily a good idea then? It wasn't hers to decide, who knew what he had seen in throws of war.
Though, to be quite honest and fair, his uniform was unlike anything she had ever seen either. He sounded very much like the English of money, their jovial, albeit nasally way of speaking. It was, ah, what was the word she had heard used? Toff. Yes. Not the kindest of descriptions, but she was used to hearing them, at least she didn't say it aloud.Besides, he didn't seem so toff in personality, but in manner of speaking.
She opened her mouth to speak when he brought up the issue of their clothing. She shrugged ever so slightly. "In our minds we're the best dress, that is all that matters, isn't it?" Though they were on the receiving end of looks, some inquisitive, most scathing--or, of course, some ignored them all together. She smiled to him, faintly, and began to lead him to seat away from the bar. He was not touching that any time soon.
"Let us get you a drink, va?" She in turn patted that woolen arm, the fibers of the fabric tickled and itched her palm. " I will get you something delicious and soul quenching. Pani nevi." The language rolled off of her tongue effortlessly, the thick vowels spilling naturally from the lips.
The stud in her nose twinkled, she nodded but once, and moved to the bar--the bartender looked up, nose crinkled instantly when his gaze took her in. "No money no serv--" He began snootily, but L. was already producing a coin from her skirts and laid it down, a hardness settled over her eyes shining as sharp as broken glass, lips curled into a cold smile that was anything but friendly. She was prepared. "A glass of water, please. My new friend is in need."
The bartender nearly scoffed, glancing between the two, his thick brows twitched, he had wanted money and here it was--it was not is business as to how she acquired it. He plucked it up between his fingers, brittle nails glinting under the gas light. He studied the coin momentarily before dropping it into his apron; L had half expected him to bite into it. He plucked a perspired and swollen silver pitcher from below the bar and poured the crystalline liquid into a tall awaiting glass.
"Do you know why we are at a standstill?" L had given him money, and hopefully the barkeep was a bit more open for information, and to her liking, he was.
"Aye," he sniffed ever so slightly, the bristles of his thick mustache quivered in time with his nose. "Passengers have gone missing, no one knows where they are, or if it some elaborate hoax. Until they get to the bottom of it the train stays and no one leaves. Should you hear anything, such as buzzing--go somewhere else aboard the train." He glanced to the soldier, and cleared his throat. "Do be careful ...miss." And that was that, he threw the linen towel over his shoulder, shifting down to a man holding up his patronage.
L. canted her head. Perhaps this wasn't the best thing to share with Mr. Johnson, not yet at least, not while his head was all fog and elsewhere. Taking the glass she returned to him, holding it out. "This should help you," she nodded slightly, her shawl slinking up her elbows.