‘And for you sir?’ the hob waitress asked him.
Taylor stared at the gilded menu in his hands, a hundred dishes that he’d never tried stared back at him. He flicked his eyes at Magnolia and she quickly ordered for him. The waitress bobbed a bow and took the menu from his hands.
The wine steward rounded the table and filled their glasses again. Continue reading “41 – Constants and Change”
Arshan. Fucking. Yo.
Magnolia fidgeted with her dress while they waited for the limousine. It wasn’t late, they were early. Even if it wasn’t a combat situation, it paid to be early. The dress was simple, something she’d copied, not something she’d put together herself. Plain, short, no frills or lace or other frivolities. Nothing to make it look as though she’d tried to be a designer. In the face of Yo, pretending to be a designer would be tantamount to blasphemy.
Arshan. Fucking. Yo. Continue reading “39 – Whirlwind”