Event Log: May

[moustre]

Event Log: May, Moving Day

I. GATHERING The morning of the 15th is heralded by the sing-song voice of The Coven's coimeadai sidhe Nerissa Bell ringing through the hallways, seemingly unimpeded by the heavy doors or any silencing spells that have been placed in rooms. She asks that all those who arrived at the beginning of the month - not the new inductees, the ones from The Looking-Glass House - gather in The Coven's main room; she has some exciting and important news to deliver. Once everyone is gathered, Nessie (very much a morning person, and sorry to the anyone who isn't) grins and lays a hand on her chest. "Thanks to a good bit of your lot, we've managed to get things ready in record time - aye, I should start out with what I'm talking about, aren't I? Well, well - with the Parliament's permission, thank goodness for my Mhairi's sharp wit, we've managed to get a space for all you to live in outside of The Coven. You can still come and attend classes or talk to all of us, 'course, but everyone's been getting a bit itchy with such suddenly crowded quarters, aye?" Aye aye, calls some poor, tired student from the second floor as they pass through, and Nessie pauses with a slow blink before she laughs, shaking her head. "Anyway, gather your things if you have any and follow me. Or us," she corrects herself, as a few other Witches seem to materialize from nowhere. "Can't be out without a couple of friends, I suppose." As soon as everyone's ready, Nessie and her entourage lead them out of the courtyard, aglow with fresh flowers and the soft light of dawn peeking between the clouds. The spot they've managed to get isn't too far from The Coven proper, and it doesn't look much different than the rest of the Aristocratic District that it resides in - the only thing that sets it apart is the sign Nessie takes a moment to conjure up and hang with balls of light between two streetlamps. The Haven. "Named so as a respite for all you refugees," she explains as she turns around; she sets her hands on her hips, gazing out at the crowd, and gives them a small smile. "I can't stay and chat right now - Mhairi's still with Parliament even with the hours, and I've got things to get in order at the Coven still - but if you have need of either of us, we'll be in contact. We've a little mailbox set up in front of the Coven just for you lot, so just drop us a letter or some such with one of our names or both, and we'll be right quick about answering, we will. Within reason," Nessie adds, laughing a little, "'course, within reason. Anyway, find some familiar faces and have a lovely time, will you?" With that, and a few more little goodbyes, Miss Nerissa Bell takes her leave; half of her Witches disappear with her, but the other half remain to help keep an eye on things as the day progresses and to help with directing people to either houses or the barracks set against the Wall. While there will be no NPC threads this time - sorry! - we have opened up an NPC Inbox! You can find it here. While they definitely prefer letters, they do both have watches now like cool moms and can be contacted through that as well, provided they aren't busy at the time.

II. THE HAVEN Formerly part of the Aristocratic District, The Haven is just as well-kept and brightly-lit as the district it hails from. The houses err on the tall and ornamental-side, large enough to fit several families (or, according to the upper class, their one family, several dozen servants, and guests), especially closest to the Aristocratic District. They become a little more modest and smaller as one gets away from the realm of high society and nearer to the Residential District proper. Newcomers are shuffled here and invited to find somewhere to live - the Coven is currently handling expenses for the houses themselves in an program implemented by the Parliament, though if your character wishes to have anything extra - like maids, chefs, and so on - they'll have to pay for them themselves with their own earned money. Much of the landscape and fixtures are the same as in the Aristocratic Districts, though it lacks formal emergency services due to its roots as part of a district that already did. Much of the housing already has furnishing due to the speed at which homeowners were relocated; they were given enough time to collect their valuables, but standard furniture such as kitchenware, couches, beds, etc. were left behind for those moving in. Other houses appear the same, but the dust on the floors suggest these houses were left before the new arrivals even showed up - a reminder that the Cwyld can strike just about anyone, regardless of standing. Some may be familiar with this portion of Aefenglom already, as they took on the task of helping to clean the area up. Surprise, one could say; they were preparing their own future homes, for their stay in the city. However, another portion of this district has been opened up to the new arrivals: the barracks, the row of buildings pressed against the very edge of the Bright Wall. As the city's military force no longer has the same presence it previously did, the barracks have gone into disuse, and a cleanup effort has been in place since before the new arrivals came through the Looking-Glass House. For those who desire something a little less opulent, the barracks might just be the answer. The barracks can also be used for business, for a welcome center, a communal space, for anything that the residents of the Haven see fit to use it for - so long as the legality isn't questionable, on the surface. Not everyone is so happy, however. A very vocal group of younger rich people are set on harassing and bullying those moving into The Haven, and they aren't afraid to use a little magic to do it. Levitation, fake fire, real fire, sudden weather shifts, and threats to do more if they don't find somewhere else to live are all present - these aristocrats don't care for the new people butting into their lives, especially anyone who looks distinctly non-human or already have signs of their Monster traits coming in. There are others, though, who are quite pleased to have new neighbors - many of them weren't so happy with their other ones - and have set up little stalls to peruse and tables to sit at to help foster them in. These have everything from food to flowers, to expensive-looking trinkets and jewelry on them - the people running them are quite amiable, especially closer to the Residential District proper, and don't mind handing these out for free... or mostly free. The only thing they'll ask of any characters wishing to procure something from their gifts is to perform a trick - sort of like a one-man talent show. They aren't picky, and as long as a character does their best, they'll give them a gift. (Or someone with quick fingers could just swipe them off, given how unprotected they are, but that person will find their hands turning red and leaving similarly-colored marks on everything they touch, as if dipped in paint.)

III. AND THEN THEY WERE ROOMMATES To help with filling up the larger houses - and even some of the smaller ones, and the shared rooms in the barracks - the Witches left over from Nessie's group have come together to set up a little roommate finding service that will run for the week. For those who aren't entirely sure who they want to shack up with, they have a small survey for them to fill out and post on the board they've magicked up in the center of The Haven. The board also very helpfully reads aloud each form for everyone to hear in a cheerful, monotone voice. It isn't able to be shut up, nor is it easy to ignore, being imbued with a similar kind of amplification magic that Miss Nessie used earlier in the morning for her own voice. It seems these Witches - or at least one of them - has a prankster nature... and unfortunately, it doesn't stop there. a. A LITTLE MISCHIEF While by and large the board will work as it should - a listing is filled out, put up, and read aloud for all to hear - for characters who aren't interested in doing some writing, or who can't for one reason or another, the board will take it upon itself to make one for them. It isn't going to be the most accurate at all, being either completely fictitious or based on a first impression from the board itself. This can range from "They have blue eyes, so you know they're a kind person!" to "How stand-offish, they must be a crook! A thief! A villain!" and anything in-between, including but not limited to: outrageous feats they may or may not have accomplished, poor hygiene habits, false accounts of incredibly embarrassing moments, and so on. b. A LITTLE HANDS-ON Not entirely content with just allowing people to write their preferences and call it a day, a few of the younger Witches have begun magicking small chocolates, hard candies, and bubble gum, and handing them out to new arrivals as a welcome treat. These aren't any ordinary treats though - they have one of three of effects: • Sticky fingers, meaning characters will stick to anyone or anything they touch. • Truthfulness, meaning characters will say whatever they're really thinking or feeling at the moment. • Desire for company, meaning characters will gravitate immediately to the first person they see, regardless of their feelings on them otherwise. Thankfully, none of these last long - only about ten minutes, and they can't be combined with each other; eating one candy with one effect will simply replace any other effects... Which might be for the better. The subthread for this can be found HERE, while any ones that are made up by the board itself can be simply written into your top levels or replies to other people. Have fun with it, and good luck finding some housemates!

Welcome to the midmonth event log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs; take the prompts offered and go wild, go crazy, go stupid, have fun. As ever, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know, and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!

Comments

ii.

[rowdyraven]

[He's partaken of the free chocolate himself - chocolate, singular, and consumed purely out of politeness - the subtle rose flavour still melting away on his tongue, when he hears a familiar voice addressing him. He turns then, rather abruptly, his angular face - looking sharper than it should, all cheekbones and dark hollows - softly beginning to colour up beneath the magician's gaze.

The last time he'd seen his former lover, it had been a swift glance at his still-sleeping form as he'd slunk quietly away.]

Oh. Asra. Fancy seeing you, here.

[As if somehow the appearance of the magician in a space designated to the displaced should somehow come as a surprise.]

No, I haven't. I haven't had much of an appetite, lately.

[A sudden truth, spoken quite without meaning to.]

[halfheartedmagician]

[He's slightly surprised to get what sounds closer to an honest answer from Julian, one that's clearly apparent with the look of the other man's face, drawn and tired.]

How much have you been taking care of yourself?

[He runs a sceptical eye over the tall frame of the doctor, that seems rather thinner now than before, and frowns at him. It reminds him as well of other topics, and since he doesn't feel like leaving Julian alone for the moment, he reaches out to take his arm.]

Come with me.

[rowdyraven]

[He's surprised, just a little, when Asra catches hold of his arm. His one visible eye subtly widening, body stiffening beneath the unexpected touch. But in the next moment he turns pliant as a scruffed ragdoll cat, allows himself to be led along in the magician's wake, even as his lips part around an answer to Asra's question.]

Not much. There didn't seem to be much point.

[He says it, the words rising up in him unbidden, and no sooner are they said then his jaw snaps shut with an audible clack, his own surprise at the honesty in his voice showing around the hard lines of his face.]

That is, I er...well. Ahem.

[But try as he might he can't seem to fix it with a half-truth, or a lie.]

[halfheartedmagician]

[His frown deepens and Asra drags Julian with him to a vendor, pausing just long enough to fish a handful of trinkets out of his pocket and dump them in the man's hands before he grabs a few rolls of bread and drags Julian away again, leaving the vendor staring at a handful of crystals and beads, a river stone carved into an intricate flower shape, and a delicate figure of a dancer carved from enchanted ice.

Once he finds a spot that's empty enough, he lets Julian go and gestures to the grass.]

Sit. Eat something before you fall over.

[rowdyraven]

[Asra's hands delve into his pockets, and an expression of mild surprise creeps over the doctor's face when he realises - thinks - that Asra intends to pay...only for his brow to arch wryly a moment later when he catches sight of the handful of trinkets. Stones and beads and the like, by the looks of it, and his own hand is reaching for one of the voluminous pockets of his coat to try offering up real coin--

--but Asra's already tugging him away. He tosses the vendor an apologetic glance, allows himself to be steered towards a quiet, grassy area. Promptly sits in the wake of the magician's decisive order. Legs folded under him, resting on his knees, he extends a hand to take one of the bread rolls with only marginal reluctance.]

What's this, all of a sudden? It's not like you to worry particularly over my wellbeing.

[halfheartedmagician]

[Asra takes a seat beside him as soon as Julian follows the direction, close enough that he can feel the subtle heat of another body against his bare skin, the soft reminder that there's someone else there. He sighs at the question and closes his eyes, unconsciously leaning in closer to bump against Julian's shoulder.]

I don't actually like seeing you hurt or upset, Ilya. You're the one who seems to want that the most.

[He takes a bite of the roll and makes a soft, pleased sound. It's not quite as good as his favourite kind of bread in Vesuvia, but it's warm and filled with some sort of sweet paste that's delicious.]

But I do have questions for you, from our conversation the night Faust found you here. Ones I'd have asked you if you hadn't disappeared again.

[rowdyraven]

[Today is full of surprises, it seems. Asra's arm brushes light against his own, and he makes no effort to move away despite how unexpected the proximity is. Casts a quick sideways glance in his direction before biting into the bread, and quite suddenly his mouth is filled with warmth and flavour, making him realise with startling abruptness just how hungry he actually is. He makes a soft sound of appreciation, lets his eye fall closed-- it tastes, right now, in his state of self-starvation, like the best thing he's ever eaten in his life.

And whilst Asra's first statement slips by almost without notice, the latter gets his attention. Has him glancing sideways yet again, colour rising in the tips of his ears, beginning to spread across the high angles of his cheeks.]

I'm sorry, for just...walking out on you, like that. I was trying to save us both from any awkwardness that would follow. I suppose I er, just wasn't sure how to deal with it.

[Again, it's a more honest answer than he intended, and subtly, he frowns. Tries to hurry along.]

But um, let's hear it then. What did you want to ask me?

[halfheartedmagician]

[He's glad when Julian finally does give in and eat something, and Asra can tell by his response that the other man must have been starving. Which is why he feels faintly guilty at the question he asks next.]

How did you know my apprentice had died? And why aren't you surprised about it?

[He knows whatever the answer, the good mood won't last past it.]

[rowdyraven]

[And he's right enough. Julian pauses midway between raising the bread to his lips for a second bite, expression turning darker-edged.]

Oh. Right. That.

[He takes a breath, steady and slow, the hand holding the bread dropping back down to his lap, his renewed appetite already slipping away from him, quite forgotten.]

After the hanging, when the Hanged Man returned my memories to me I uh, well it all came back to me. And look, I realise now why you er, felt so resentful towards me. Back then. I know they're the one you wanted, all along. That is was never me. And that...it was my fault, wasn't it? That they died. All that time spent working at the palace, slaving away over the cure, I didn't...they were apprenticed under me at the time, I should have taken better care, should have known but...I was so absorbed in what I was doing, I didn't even realise they'd contracted the plague. I didn't know they'd been...that they'd died, until after it had happened. Until it was too late.

[The unaccountable honesty, again, but there's the slow sinking feeling inside of him now, the return of his usual darkness, and it pushes the strangeness of his openness to the edges of himself.]

I'm sorry. I know that I failed them.

[halfheartedmagician]

It wasn't your fault. [Asra's expression turns dark, anger and a dislike that went deep enough to harden into hate souring his expression.]

It was all Lucio. Everything was his fault. He's the one who should be apologising, to me, to you, to the entire city.

[Just as quickly it fades into a wry smile and Asra huffs a laugh.]

Not that he ever would.

[Leaning back against Julian, he closes his eyes, not wanting to think too much about back then in general, but listening to the regret in the doctor's voice.]

So many people died to the plague, Lucio's plague. You can't hold yourself responsible for all their deaths.

[rowdyraven]

[Asra's expression turns dark and hard, but it isn't directed towards him-- only Lucio, and at the very least the furnace of Asra's hatred for the man is something he understands. He knows it now, he does, that the bulk of the blame lies on Lucio's shoulders, that no matter how hard he'd laboured he never would have uncovered the cure, not until circumstances aligned just so. Until desperation made him look outside of the realm of medicine, and into something else. Because it wasn't a true sickness all along, but something magic, something cursed, something beyond his ability to cure.

Except for with the Count's death, just another thing he'd failed to ensure, in the end.

Lucio's fault, then. But even so. Even so--]

Maybe. Maybe not. But I had a duty of care, Asra. I should have...I don't know, done something. Done more.

[His shoulders sag, because all of this-- it still weighs heavy on him, even now.]

[halfheartedmagician]

What could you have done, Ilya?

[There's notes of genuine sadness in his voice, Asra thinking to the situation at the time. He can't blame Julian for his apprentice's fate; that is squarely his own fault for leaving, for not convincing them to leave or at the very least staying with them. The plague had its roots in magic and magic could have helped.

Or at least they could have gone together.

Without thinking about it, he curls closer to Julian, basking in the heat of another body against his and the contact that he's felt starved of for so long. As nice as it might be to just stay here in the sun for a while, he does have one other question, since Julian is feeling so open about answering.]

Did the Hanged Man tell you anything about how they came back?

[rowdyraven]

I don't know. Paid more attention, kept them at the palace with me, tried harder. Just...something. Anything.

[He says it with a lift of his shoulders, and there's a futility to the action which suggests that he knows, perhaps, on some level that he never could have saved them. What was one more death, after all, amidst thousands? And the apprentice-- they'd chosen that route for themselves, had known the risks and cast aside fear to try and do something for the people of Vesuvia in the depths of the city's darkest hour. Just as Julian himself had done.

But his guilt-- it's a deep-set thing, branded down into his bones, hard to free himself of.

Something that - even here, even now - it would be so easy to lose himself in. If it wasn't for the sudden warm curl of the magician against his side, an unexpected proximity that catches at Julian's attention. Has him glancing down at Asra, mild surprise written across his sharp features--

--but he does nothing to discourage it. To push him off, or away. Perhaps the past that lies between them is twisted, and dark, and bitter...but it's something shared in a strange world. Is it really so odd then, for Asra to want his company?

The trajectory of his thoughts is interrupted by Asra's question, and subtly he frowns.]

He didn't. I suppose I must never have known-- he only returned to me what I'd lost, the memories I'd given up. Though er, come to think of it, it's a pretty good question.

[halfheartedmagician]

[Asra doesn't imagine that Julian will easily let that guilt go, and while he might want to shake him about it on occasion, frustrating as it gets that Julian always wants to take on the suffering of everyone around him... he's a little too relaxed and enjoying the company to risk pushing the other man away.

He's relieved to hear that the Hanged Man hadn't given Julian anything that wasn't his to remember, however, and if he relaxes a bit more at the confusion in Julian's voice at that? Well he's never been one for sharing secrets anyway.]

Hmmm. I suppose it is. But there's not much point wondering about it now.

[rowdyraven]

No, I suppose not. They never told you, though? I think perhaps it had something to do with that ritual, but uh...I don't know. I never thought to ask them. I like them well enough but um, they're always with you. I don't like to get in the way.

[But whilst he's not quite ready to let the subject die, there's a tone to his voice that suggests he sees no point in particular persistence. Whatever the case, they're alive now, and seem happy for it. With Asra.

Subtly he frowns, even as - absently, not quite consciously - he drapes one arm around the magician where he's settled against his side. Companionably close.]

[halfheartedmagician]

I don't think they know.

[There's a note of finality about the matter, and while he's aware that it might suggest he knows more than he's saying, he's also certain that Julian won't push the matter. The doctor is used to his need to keep secrets, after all.

Asra cracks open an eyelid as Julian's arm settles around him, but he doesn't pull away. Instead he prods the doctor's hand still holding the forgotten bread roll.]

Eat. You've been neglecting yourself.

[rowdyraven]

[There's a tone to Asra's voice that suggests the subject is now closed, and it tugs at him then, a niggling feeling at the centre of his chest, the near-certainty that the magician knows more than he's letting on. But Asra is right, of course-- this evasiveness, his silence, it's entirely expected. And there's an easy familiarity between them in this moment that Julian doesn't want to strain-- it's feels fragile, easily broken, and that's a risk he isn't prepared to take.

So he lets it go. Attention drawn instead to the pressure of fingers against his hand, and Julian's gaze drops as intended, finally recalls that he's supposed to be eating. It's how it goes, with him - forgetful of himself, negligent - how he's ended up looking sharp as a blade in the few short weeks they've been here.]

Oh. Well. Yes. I suppose I have.

[Honesty again, and before he can say anything else that cuts far closer to the truth than he intends, he obediently lifts the bread to his lips.]

[halfheartedmagician]

Good.

[There's a note of approval in Asra's voice and he watches as Julian finishes the snack before saying anything further.]

Why haven't you been taking care of yourself, Ilya? You told me you want to return to Vesuvia, is that a lie?

[rowdyraven]

[And it is good, both the quick flicker of warmth he feels in the wake of even that little shred of approval, and the food itself, going some small way towards a kind of revitalisation he hadn't noticed he needs.

He finishes it quickly, and when the last mouthful has been consumed, Asra poses his questions. His lips part around an answer, but when the words come, he once again surprises himself by spilling out more than he'd been prepared to give.]

It's not a lie. I do want to get back. Things have been going well there recently, since all that business with the Devil was taken care of. No more murder charge hanging over my head, no more blank spaces and uncertainty where my memories ought to be...but now we're here, and nothing's going right. Perhaps it was only ever a matter of time, and here or Vesuvia or anywhere else, I'd only have fallen back into the old patterns. Finding trouble, hurting people. It's what I do, isn't it?

Nothing I've tried has turned up any results, and I...well, I walked out on you, the other night. I walked out on my roommate, too. To save you the trouble of dealing with me, with the awkwardness, and the eventual pain I'll no doubt cause to anyone who sticks around me long enough. So I've been...distracted. With worry and guilt and self-loathing, and really, what's the point in taking care of myself? I don't deserve it.

[He finishes, and the look on his face as he does-- it's one of embarrassment, of surprise. He'd meant only to say that he wants to return, that he's doing fine.]

I...er, that is...perhaps I ought to stop talking.

[halfheartedmagician]

[It's not Julian to be quite this honest and Asra sits up and moves to straddle his lap, sensing that Julian might be on the verge of trying to run and not wanting to give him the chance.]

Oh Ilya...

[He rests his hands on Julian's shoulders, squeezing gently.]

You don't hurt everyone or always find trouble and you won't always hurt the people around you. You are allowed to be happy and take care of yourself.

[He sighs and closes his own eyes briefly.] I don't imagine I've been helping you much with any of this. But you shouldn't think so little of yourself. It's different here, but you don't have to be back to what you were before.

[rowdyraven]

[And Asra's instincts are right enough-- it's already there in him, the desire to get up and slip away quick before he can say anything else, give more of himself away. But Asra moves quick as a cat, slides into his lap and that in itself is enough of a distraction, the familiar weight of the magician across his thighs, a memory that comes back to him easy as breathing. And colour blooms bright in his cheeks suddenly, spreads out across the bridge of his nose, dusts the top of his ears with pink.

He looks down and away as tawny hands squeeze his shoulders, heart thudding just a bit too loud, so loud he fears Asra might here it.

And the words-- they surprise him, ultimately. Aren't what he'd expected to hear. Not from Asra.]

But that isn't true, is it? You of all people ought to know that. That I'm someone who hurts, who gets things wrong, who isn't worth keeping around. I think so little of myself because there's so very little to think of.

[He takes a breath, shakes his head, can't seem to stop the words from coming, so--]

Look, I...I need to go. Something's wrong. I...hah! I know you always say I talk too much, but this time I can't seem to stop it.

[halfheartedmagician]

[The idea of Julian leaving doesn't sit well with him and Asra's hands unconsciously tighten their grip at the suggestion, as though just voicing it will allow the other man to slip away from under him and leave him alone.]

No. [He says it a touch too quickly, and keeps going.] Don't just go, Ilya. You're not like that. You... you didn't hurt me as much as I hurt you.

But you are worth keeping around and you're worth more to others than I ever made you feel you were. You should have that.

All because I could never make you happy doesn't mean you can't find it elsewhere.

[rowdyraven]

[Asra's grip on his shoulders tightens, has his eye sweeping quick to the magician's face before flitting away again. The colour in him now, it rides high and hot through his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, the tips of his ears. Flushes bright along the pale length of his throat. He wants to get up and go, quite desperately, but he's not about to throw the magician off, and he's holding on too tight to simply slip out from underneath him.

He shifts uncomfortably beneath Asra's negligible weight, tries biting down on his lip. But no matter what he tries, the truth comes spilling out of him, anyway.]

Well, you've certainly changed your tune. I wouldn't have expected to hear those things, coming from you. You never did seem to think very much of me. In some ways, I suppose, it was half the appeal.

And I just...I realise, that I'm not good enough for you. That I'm never what you wanted, that it was always someone else. And that I...ask for too much. That I am too much, aren't I, for you. But I just...wonder. All the time. If I'd been better, less pushy, less selfish. Whether you could have loved me. Or whether I'm just kidding myself, that I could never have been worth that much.

[No sooner are the words out then his expression becomes pained, he didn't want to say all that. Hadn't meant to. But now the words are out there, standing heavy and think between them, and there's nothing he can do to take them back.]

[halfheartedmagician]

I...

[There's too much to say, too much that's been said that he can't answer to, not without sharing more than he's ever been comfortable with. And Asra, as much as he hates it, can't bring himself to open that part of himself, even after Julian's heart seems open and bare before him.

His hands tremble and he swallows thickly around the lump that chokes all the words that he could possibly say. He can't seem to give them voice and truthfully he doesn't feel that they would ever be enough for the harm he'd done in the past. He presses his hands down on Julian's shoulders and pushes himself off of him, standing in a slow movement and taking a step back. He doesn't want to have distance even now, a part of him wanting to stay close and remain in his company, although another part wants nothing more than to leave. He's always been particularly good at disappearing.]

I am sorry, Ilya. I wish I could give you an answer...

[rowdyraven]

[There's silence, for one deep tense moment, where words ought to be. And then there's the increased pressure on his shoulders as the magician presses himself up and away, moves to standing. Already he misses the familiar weight and warmth of him, there in his lap, and Julian's expression darkens, turns inward. He takes a shaky breath, looks down and away as - slowly - he rises to his feet in turn. Makes a show of straightening his clothes, looking anywhere but at the magician.]

But you can't. Or won't.

[He says it, quite without meaning to.]

Of course not. I know what I'm worth. And...look. I'm sorry. For saying anything, I don't know what's come over me, why I...

[But he cuts himself off abruptly. Takes one smooth step back.]

...I, um. I'd better go. Things to do, people to see. You know how it is.

[He manufactures a smile. Brief, entirely false. And with a whirl of his coat, he's already turning. Means to walk away as swiftly as he can without actually running.]