(no subject)

[lastgunslinger]

Roland has a favorite armchair downstairs. He also has one upstairs.

Right now he's sitting in it, smoking -- and thinking about Anthy, and what they can do. Of course Joe has to be off with that woman of his, and of course Moiraine and the Dream-lord are nowhere in sight.

And then there's Meg.

Roland's eyes narrow as he exhales. Smoke hovers over the pile of books on the end table, and dissipates.

Comments

[balletrat]

*And then, there's Meg.

Really, there is. Knocking at the door, in fact.*

[lastgunslinger]

"It's open."

[balletrat]

*Meg slips into the room.*

Well, yes, but it's polite to knock first, generally, *she explains.*

[lastgunslinger]

"You say true."

Roland continues smoking.

[balletrat]

I was wondering about Paris, *Meg says, forthrightly.*

[lastgunslinger]

His eyes narrow, a little.

"Have a seat." And he nods to the other chair.

"What about it?"

[balletrat]

*Meg sits down, promptly.*

Well, when we can go back, of course, *she explains patiently.* Seeing as, what with my tutu out of commission, hanging onto stuff is more difficult, so I'd rather like to do it soon.

*She eyes him, a little warily, and adds,* If you're feeling up to it, and all.

[lastgunslinger]

"Got time now?"

[balletrat]

*Meg grins.* Me, I'm nothing but time.

I also kind of want to get away from the creepy underwear guy in the bar, so.

[lastgunslinger]

Fucking Milliways.

Roland puts out his cigarette, gets up, goes to the armoire, pulls out his suit. "Give me a moment."

He goes in the bathroom and closes the door.

[balletrat]

*Meg looks around curiously, now that she is not distracted by Wee Roland.

And does not snicker at the velvet chairs. Not in any way, oh no.*

[lastgunslinger]

Roland comes out, wearing the suit-minus-jacket. He's rigged up his gunbelt so that it looks more like a docker's clutch, now -- or a shoulder-holster.

He opens a drawer on the nightstand and pulls out a handful of bullets, which he puts in his pocket. Then he crosses to the armoire and picks up his top hat. He's got his jacket over one arm. "All right?"

[balletrat]

*Meg nods and swings her rose cloak over her shoulders - it's still rather chilly, in Paris.*

Let's go.

*She heads for the door.*

[lastgunslinger]

Roland puts his hat on his head, shrugs into his jacket, and follows her downstairs.

[balletrat]

*When Meg opens the door, the graffiti has, thankfully, faded. Scrawled over it are the innocuous words, CHAT PERDU.

A small child across the street eyes Roland and, no fool, heads in the other direction, whistling.*

[lastgunslinger]

His mother's name is gone. Roland is grateful -- but he doesn't show it.

"Where now?"

[balletrat]

This way to the bank - it's in one of the nicer areas of town, so you'll get a bit of a better view, this time.

*Meg heads off purposefully.*

[lastgunslinger]

The gunslinger follows.

He doesn't look around as much, though.

[balletrat]

*By the time they reach the financial district, it's mostly men in the streets; important-looking men, dressed much as Roland is, bent on business.

Meg forges her way through the crowds, ably ignoring them -

and then sees a man in her path and stops.*

[lastgunslinger]

Roland stops as well, but doesn't look down at Meg.

Not yet.

[balletrat]

Mademoiselle Giry.

*The man is obviously wealthy; it's noticeable from the size of his waistline as well as the size of his rings. The look on his face is something akin to disdain.

There might be other things in there, as well.*

Monsieur le Baron, *Meg says politely, and dips a curtsey, her eyes fixed on the ground.

She does not look at Roland; in fact, she is doing her very best to send out 'random-stranger' vibes. How successful they are is dubious.*

[lastgunslinger]

Roland stands, head tilted very slightly to the side, and watches this interaction silently.

[balletrat]

*Monsieur le Baron Anonyme spares a brief glance for Roland before turning his attention back to Meg.*

Tu as quitte l'Opera, Mademoiselle. Ou travailles-tu, maintenant?

*Meg's gaze is still fixed on the ground; she doesn't answer.

The Baron waits for a moment, then shrugs and smiles; a normal, open smile.*

Ah, ce n'est rien. Au revoir, Meg.

*Meg takes a step to the side to let him pass. Her face is white.*

[You've left the Opera, Miss. Where do you work now?

Ah well, it's of no matter. Until next time, Meg.]

[lastgunslinger]

Roland turns, now, and looks down at her, silently questioning..

[balletrat]

An old acquaintance, *Meg says firmly, in a tone that she hopes forbids further questioning.*