| Subject: Re: The Pigeon |
Author:
Cricket
|
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Date Posted: 15:25:11 06/14/06 Wed
In reply to:
Robert Morley
's message, "Re: The Pigeon" on 18:04:01 06/13/06 Tue
A dry cackle from the old crone as she followed Morley to the back, as if she found humor in the way the crowd got out of her way. There was a moment, just before she crossed the threshold, that she paused, and seemed to half turn back. She neither looked directly toward Angus, nor turned any further, but the pause was sign that she knew well he was behind her, and a little closer than she liked. The moment happened and was gone in little more than a breath however, and the bent form of the crone passed through into the room after Bob and halted just inside as the door closed at her backside. She said nothing, and there was but the sound of rough breathing and the hard "tonk" of her canes tip as it was set firmly on the boards at her covered feet. Truth be known, there was a growing smile under the dirty cowl, for she did so enjoy this particular costume. She'd have bet a gold piece old Bob was still not a hundred percent sure it was his old acquaintance, Cricket. No..if she cared too, she could have probably had Morley for another five minutes of uncomfortable squirm before she decided to shed her mask. It was a tempting idea..but Morley was not too fond of jokes being pulled on Him. As his back was turned, she stood her place, and did not push back the cowled hood, or reveal her face more than those eerie shadowed glimpses, but it was not to keep up the charade. It was Crickets voice, the old butter smooth, oddly accented voice that he knew well enough. It was however, held low in tone, that Angus did not catch more than a word or two. It was clear in her voice, if not on her face, that good humor was held at all of this. Words came, as she stepped further inside, still apparently bent at the back, but moving with a bit more ease now. A hand..now an opposite vision of its mate, for it was her own smooth, long fingered digits that reached out for the opposite cup, offered it up for a tap against his own while the left stayed apparently aged, and held arthritically around the head of her cane. "As guest, as confidant, as ally" She nodded, and drew the cup back to herself, that humor again as she added:: "Though I wasn't aware we trusted each other." A low chuckle, so different from the crones cackle. "Here I come by to see how thee are fairing, and what do I find? Shot wenches and lady pirates landing on their arses." The cup lifted, as if in a helpless motion, and she took a step around him, clearly there must have been one of those flashing grins on her lips for the humor that coated every word. "Dost thee always charm women in this way?. Perhaps thee should seek a ...charm school, eh?"
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