Worthlessplebian
Worthless pleb
Bernard Greve
Location: Inn to Spoon;
With: Aódh, Bill;
Interactions: Out Of Words BillieRoss Larry
Mentions: Rhyme Britt-21
Art by leevolt on DeviantArt
Mood: Sacrosanct;
Location: Inn to Spoon;
With: Aódh, Bill;
Interactions: Out Of Words BillieRoss Larry
Mentions: Rhyme Britt-21
Art by leevolt on DeviantArt
Mood: Sacrosanct;
With the gliding grace of a Guardian Angel, Bernard had swooped in to save -- relieve -- the Irishman of a situation most awkward. His graveyard of a face lightened with each passing moment as he exchanged glances between them. Tension so palpable that it could be cut by a knife, but before the Dane walled a greater defense in his colleague's favour, he analysed them more. Their breaths, the way their cheek bones tightened, the way Bill betrayed her friendliness - or lack thereof by denying him a handshake, and other such baubles of bodily language. A slender hook wormed up to Bernard's throat to adjust his collar, a seamless reflex that hinted his fondness for ties or bow ties. Though lacking one at the moment, the claw pulled and tugged at the edge of his collar. The sheen of his steel-blue eyes twinkled and glistened with the rejuvenating nature of moisture, they had receded their hornet stings at last. "Professor Bernard Greve, ma'am." Said Bernard, voice encrusted with respect and the regal intonation belonging to an academic. The mental duel starts here. Already Bernard envisions the fight before him. Verbal feints, question parries, and lexical dodges a plenty. What is it that you hide, Bill? His mind beamed. Knowing his own fortune recently it is highly, highly likely that another chip -- another electron of the supernatural wiggled the succulent bait before him. Hatsu, ever the anti-socialite, deigned to grace them with his presence. Bernard had been in a pseudo-state between the warmth of the Sandman and comforting, chill of Death's embrace yet he seemed more rested than the man. A quirk of the preternatural physique, he ascertains.
Aódh soon departed, Bernard called this into question like a monkey picks ticks. Did this woman truly trouble him that much? It is easy for Bernard to sometimes forget that many are not like him with his innate resistance to despondency and terror, then again it is not like he boasts any immunities to these afflictions of the mind. A smile cracked on his countenance, shoes beat like tympani drums on the floor. Except a familiar voice knifed its way into Bernard. Indy's voice — "Have you seen her? Did she come back last night?"
The itch to stop and wheel around to offer assistance was not undeniable, only to be trampled under Bernard's boot. But that doesn't mean he is deaf to her pleas, he will take this as a sign to help; absent of notions that would stop him.
---- The Loving Spoon Arrival ----
Through the town of Marasong, Bernard walked while likely shadowed by Bill's nascent presence in his mind. His eyes hurled themselves towards the general store, yet he resisted the urge to go inside. That fool Irishman routed that plan, so Bernard will simply have to acclimatise himself with his hunger again. At least for this passing hour or two. The familiar diner opened itself up to him with the clattering of a bell, Aódh had already been inside he noted. The zipper of his jacket sliced through the coat, unfurling itself from his body and onto a nearby chair. "Godmorgen, Tilly, Miranda. A spot of lemon tea would do me nicely this morning." The professor spoke softly.
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