[ Normally, Loxley makes a point of dining in public spaces; it's an easy medium in which to make some fast friends and find company, innately social, and certainly beats ferreting away supplies up winding stairs.
But there's a fucking plague or something, and even without a working knowledge of germ theory, the echoing sound of a hacking cough here and there makes for less than pleasurable ambiance. So Loxley swans into the room and he's holding a few rudimentary supplies for the evening, including bread and cured meat and a bottle he's had filled with ale.
These things are set down on a table with more force than strictly necessary. ]
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Date: 2020-02-16 06:55 am (UTC)But there's a fucking plague or something, and even without a working knowledge of germ theory, the echoing sound of a hacking cough here and there makes for less than pleasurable ambiance. So Loxley swans into the room and he's holding a few rudimentary supplies for the evening, including bread and cured meat and a bottle he's had filled with ale.
These things are set down on a table with more force than strictly necessary. ]