InsaneJournal

WHO: Ariel and Princess, with a little Dean thrown in
WHAT: Walking out
WHERE: Chez Winchester, then around London
WARNINGS: With these two, I highly doubt it.



He'd done his best to clean up, even managing to find and operate one of the newfangled razors the shops sold. There was nothing objectionable about his dress, nor his appearance. This wasn't a courting call, but nonetheless, Ariel wanted to make a better impression than he'd made the first time he'd met Princess; swimming in guilt and fear and looking manic enough to erupt.

She'd told him the address, and after a bit of searching, he located the house. It was enormous, frankly, and he felt a bubble of nerves rise. The manners beaten into him as a child were weary from disuse, but he would obviously try his best to impress. This wasn't his era anymore, of course; surely slightly rusty etiquette wouldn't be a hanging offense, even if this was Britain.

He walked up the drive, stopping to look at the motor cars for a moment; these seemed older than most of those turning New York's streets into a danger zone. They were more handsome, as well, or at least as handsome as a motorcar could be. Pushing on, he took up the heavy knocker on the front door of the house, letting it fall twice.