08-08-2009, 01:07 PM
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Geneva smiled dimly at the man as he emerged from the stairs. She listened as he spoke his piece. Although his words were polite, thoughtful, and even light-hearted, there was something about the tone of his voice that seemed subdued. She could tell that her earlier assumption was true, and that there was something obviously troubling this man. It was strange how misery seemed magnetic, and that miserable creatures could find one another so easily. But Geneva was grateful that this night neither of them would be alone.
She rose to help him with his burden, and selected a random bottle to cradle between her own two hands before she settled to the floor again. She leaned her back up against the wall and brought her elbows to rest on her bent knees, the bottle dangling from her hands into the gap between her legs. She watched as he bowed and downed his first draught, and wondered what could haunt this man so. Taking a firmer grasp on her own bottle, she raised it in salute. "To you," she said, before she brought it to her lips and swallowed the sweetly bitter draught. She did not know what it was, and she did not care.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before she turned her lime green eyes to Lubomir. Setting the bottle down - although she had not set it aside, to be certain - she did not know whether it was time to give or take from this man. At the moment she felt horribly unbalanced, and she surmised that he must feel the same way. She stared at the bottle that rested between her feet before she finally asked, "What brought you here?"
She rose to help him with his burden, and selected a random bottle to cradle between her own two hands before she settled to the floor again. She leaned her back up against the wall and brought her elbows to rest on her bent knees, the bottle dangling from her hands into the gap between her legs. She watched as he bowed and downed his first draught, and wondered what could haunt this man so. Taking a firmer grasp on her own bottle, she raised it in salute. "To you," she said, before she brought it to her lips and swallowed the sweetly bitter draught. She did not know what it was, and she did not care.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before she turned her lime green eyes to Lubomir. Setting the bottle down - although she had not set it aside, to be certain - she did not know whether it was time to give or take from this man. At the moment she felt horribly unbalanced, and she surmised that he must feel the same way. She stared at the bottle that rested between her feet before she finally asked, "What brought you here?"