[ she wipes her mouth, not too proud to recognize that she is a disaster. least she can do since he gave her half his toast. the napkin helps disguise (she thinks it helps, it does not) the worry that pinches at her mouth. rapiers are one thing, ghost-lock and ghost-touch are injuries she understands, but lockwood was shot and that's still worrying. ]
Maybe we hold off on the simulation room. Unless it's a leisurely stroll down the Thames.
no subject
Maybe we hold off on the simulation room. Unless it's a leisurely stroll down the Thames.