[Myr's at home when the message comes through, tinkering with yet another round of libum to see if he can get the recipe to his satisfaction (and, hopefully, Everett's). He dusts flour off his hands, picks up the watch...
And frowns most severely.]
Oh no, you do not, [he says to himself. Dealing with L's constant need to hide parts of himself away was one thing, but Everett getting increasingly dodgy about their repeatedly rescheduled dinner dates is quite another.
He doesn't respond to the message, instead packing a basket with libum and honey and boiled eggs--and, on a whim, a bottle of fruit brandy as well. Then he's off for DiplomaTea like a man on a mission, and is in short order shouldering his way in the door with a merry jingle of bells.
His approach probably feels like the arrival of a small and very miffed star through their Bond.]
no subject
And frowns most severely.]
Oh no, you do not, [he says to himself. Dealing with L's constant need to hide parts of himself away was one thing, but Everett getting increasingly dodgy about their repeatedly rescheduled dinner dates is quite another.
He doesn't respond to the message, instead packing a basket with libum and honey and boiled eggs--and, on a whim, a bottle of fruit brandy as well. Then he's off for DiplomaTea like a man on a mission, and is in short order shouldering his way in the door with a merry jingle of bells.
His approach probably feels like the arrival of a small and very miffed star through their Bond.]