Merton Graves (whereismerton) wrote in wished, @ 2010-04-11 06:58:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !1998: 04, !incomplete, argus pyrites, merton graves |
Who: Merton Graves, Argus Pyrites
When: Sunday evening.
Where: Shalott, Argus' restaurant.
What: Dinner out, chatting, etc.
Rating: TBA
Open/Closed: Closed
Merton had a date tonight. Or at least he'd thought he had a date. But when he got to the restaurant he was pretty sure he was supposed to meet the girl with the "A" name and the really red hair that he'd seen at the store when he'd gotten the lobster tank, there was no red haired girl there. He'd written the restaurant down, so he was sure it was the right place.
Come to think of it though, he might have the wrong night. Maybe he was supposed to come last night?
Actually, that explained that angry owl. Though it hadn't been from someone with an "A" name, so maybe he'd had the name wrong.
Merton made a mental note that he would probably forget to owl back that person and say he was sorry, and debated leaving. Or getting Gideon or Heath or someone to eat with him, since eating alone was boring. But that would mean leaving, and it smelled good, and seemed like a nice enough place. So Merton just stayed, letting the hostess show him to a table and looking over the menu.
It was a Wizarding restaurant, so he wasn't really that surprised when someone came up and asked for an autograph. He wasn't as instantly-recognized as Myron, or Heath, but most fans of the band knew him. and they had a lot of fans. So he signed a couple of autographs, and then was talking to them, because without the safety net of his bandmates, or the formidable Leigh, Merton was bollocks at extracting himself from fans or press, no matter how crazy they were. He did, at least, try to get the two girls and the one young man who lingered to move over out of the way of the servers, though he had limited success. And they weren't sitting, which made him feel like it was rude to sit down, and his feet were starting to hurt. At least they were talking at him enough that they didn't seem to actually expect him to say much. (Which was always for the best when it came to Merton.)