Re: log: jack/louis
Cursed. This, to Jack, wasn't hugely impossible to believe given the death, resurrection and the life memoryless currently led. "Have you ever had someone out to have a look?" he asked, of curses, as if they were as conveniently available as building inspectors or surveyors, or even people who looked at wasps nests. Curses were probably more like that then dry rot or something.
It was a good story. Even if it didn't make much light on why Louis had been left it, Jack could appreciate the romance of having been willed something significant, something to build a life-change around. He looked at Louis, his face very readable with his own interest and curiosity lit like touchpaper. "So they were meddling. They set you up with a store and a backlog of stock looks like, and now you're here, selling moonstones. D'you think they were right?"
But Marley and he was hazy on Dickens lately. "I seem to have fallen out of touch with a lot of people. Can we fall back in? A second chance would be an utterly blank slate, but I've got one direction, I'm afraid. The place, not the band," Jack's smile was sharply amused.