[7] - forward dated to afternoon

[savethedarkness]

[M's maintained radio silence, so to speak, ever since her return from the Lewis & Clark. she's kept her eye on things, and mostly limited her social appearances to those requested by Queen Anne, out of duty to crown. everyone else needed time to heal, after all, herself included. it was one thing to be strong in the face of danger and chaos for others, and it was another to deal with what she'd had to lock away to do so.

in that respect, finding the Death Match with Pixy the night of their return had been a Godsend. the next morning, she'd seen the place with fresh eyes. she had joked with Bond, once, that she might actually need a hobby, and it seemed as good a prospect as any. so without much fanfare, she'd begun spending her free time there, cleaning the place up, making it presentable. it felt almost a little like preparing Skyfall, only with less cobwebs and far less sabotage, and she was able to let the sun in the windows and play some music as she worked, here... even if the jukebox needed some better variety.

finally, she feels as though the place is up to speed, and slides onto a barstool. pulling open the journal, she takes a sip of the pint glass of water at her side, and writes]

Good afternoon, everyone.

I would like to formally announce that the Death Match bar on the second floor of the castle is under new ownership, and as of today, open for business. Currently it has no proper chef, but should anyone wish to fill the position, I will consider applications. I hope this is a welcome addition to the castle atmosphere, and that I will see some of you soon.

Cordially,
Emma

[with that, she'll just go on back to the kitchen and make sure there are supplies for the few things she does know how to make. if people want food, she won't turn them down, but their options will be a little limited. she's much better when it comes to making drinks]

Comments

[unvarnished]

You going to be serving English food?

[savethedarkness]

I'm going to be serving what I can cook that doesn't taste like rubbish, Mr. Booth. So in the loosest sense of the word, I suppose I am, yes.

[unvarnished]

Emma, please call me August. [he can at least manage to say her name now, even if his tone changes to playfulness]

[savethedarkness]

August, then. ... Were you just asking out of curiosity, or are you hungry? Because I'm afraid if it's the latter, all I've got at the moment are sandwiches.

[just because she knows how to run a government spy organization does not mean she knows how to run a bar]

[unvarnished]

Curiosity. Though I'd never turn down a sandwich and good company if you're offering.

[savethedarkness]

I run an establishment, now, August. It's good business to offer.

[unvarnished]

I don't have any money from this world. Would you mind starting a tab for now?

[savethedarkness]

[she chuckles] If you can't pay, I'm not going to make a fuss about it. Most of the ingredients are going to be asked up, anyway. It seems a bit silly to make people pay for things I didn't have to buy.

Most of the revenue will be saved for in case of emergencies, to be perfectly honest. Or to pay anyone who wants to come and work for me.

[unvarnished]

[and however uncomfortable he is about the magic in this place, it's hard to deny that it's needed sometimes. That, and August is just way too lazy do any of this stuff himself]

If you're looking for a good worker, I know a girl who has experience as a waitress. Her name's Ruby Lucas.

[savethedarkness]

Ruby Lucas. ... Thank you, I appreciate that. Do you know if she'd be interested in a job? Once business picks up, I could certainly use the help.

[unvarnished]

Not sure. I think she might like it, though. [it'll help her move past Event Horizon, or so he hopes]

[savethedarkness]

Well, if you can send her my way, I at least won't say no to meeting her.

[unvarnished]

I will, definitely.