Robin wasn't sure how that lout had managed it, but there were still bits of glass in his hair--and his shirt, for that matter, and the wound on his face was still bleeding, rather nastily.
Ah, his reflexes weren't what they used to be, he thought, staggering outside. He'd even been good; had stopped after two pints of ale, hadn't even had liquor! There was a council meeting tomorrow at the palace, and it wouldn't do for Lord Robert Lennox of the Mornvale to turn up stinking drunk in front of the Queen.
He grimaced at the blood on his shirt. This was one of his favorites--white silk, with handmade lace at the cuffs. Maybe someone back at court knew how to get those stains out, but for now the cut on his face was a more pressing matter.
Blinding white light dazzled him when he left the tavern, and what he smelled wasn't the fresh night air, but something...odd. Something overly clean and harsh, tinged with death.
There was a pretty woman nearby, dressed in those same strange clothes he'd seen when he'd last jumped worlds, her frustrated eyes belying her otherwise calm demeanor.
"Pardon me," he asked, with a sweeping bow, "I don't suppose you'd know where I could find some assistance?"
Re: Professional: Ahava Jackson
Robin wasn't sure how that lout had managed it, but there were still bits of glass in his hair--and his shirt, for that matter, and the wound on his face was still bleeding, rather nastily.
Ah, his reflexes weren't what they used to be, he thought, staggering outside. He'd even been good; had stopped after two pints of ale, hadn't even had liquor! There was a council meeting tomorrow at the palace, and it wouldn't do for Lord Robert Lennox of the Mornvale to turn up stinking drunk in front of the Queen.
He grimaced at the blood on his shirt. This was one of his favorites--white silk, with handmade lace at the cuffs. Maybe someone back at court knew how to get those stains out, but for now the cut on his face was a more pressing matter.
Blinding white light dazzled him when he left the tavern, and what he smelled wasn't the fresh night air, but something...odd. Something overly clean and harsh, tinged with death.
There was a pretty woman nearby, dressed in those same strange clothes he'd seen when he'd last jumped worlds, her frustrated eyes belying her otherwise calm demeanor.
"Pardon me," he asked, with a sweeping bow, "I don't suppose you'd know where I could find some assistance?"