Feb. 6th, 2004


Feb. 6th, 2004 11:12 am
[identity profile] roidesmoutons.livejournal.com
As I have found, numerous items I brought with me from my time to this are considered 'antiques.' I find it silly that an old coin is valued more than it is worth, but I will not disagree when one chooses to increase my worth over ten-fold (I think perhaps I could have received more for coin, as the shifty-eyed man was not to be trusted, but he possessed a strange weapon for which I do not have a name, it made something disappear, I did not wish this to happen to me).

And so, with this freedom, I have taken to roaming the numerous boutiques in the hotel and along the streets, purchasing new clothing with a thing called 'plastic' which is much easier to carry than my old coin.

I hope my David likes the new clothing. I could tell, even though he would never admit it to myself that he was not fond of my tattered clothing from home, as well the bellboy who would wrinkle his nose in distaste. The lass who aided my search giggled and blushed when I inquired of undergarments as I had been led to believe that such articles of clothing were common in this day, however, one does not apparently try on and ask for opinions (although she did make mention that green was not my color and recommended the blue).

Perhaps a few gifts for David, and then I shall return to our room with arms laden with purchases, including instructional books (beginners reading texts, one called 'slang for dummies'. Am I a dummy? What exactly -is- a dummy?) and a spray which says it will make any room smell as a meadow. I do so miss the fields and open lands of home, but as I ne'er did see Her shining beauty there, I do not miss the sun here.

I do, on the contrary, miss my sheep.
[identity profile] ritz-bellhop.livejournal.com
Stretching like an oversized cat, Duncan lets himself drop on the bed in his shabby little bellhop room.

Great mother of Jupiter swinging a hula hoop and walking through jello - it's great to have an hour off. If that wretch Gray had his way, my lunch hour would be twelve minutes long. And of COURSE he takes a three hour lunch every day. Ha. Takes him two and a half hours at LEAST to convince that gir-er, woman he's seeing to give him a nooner, so I guess the guy needs the extra time.

Now, what would make this a perfect break would be to have a nice warm body tap on my door, preferably holding a bottle of something wet and alcohol-laden.

Duncan proceeds to stare at the door, mentally willing it to produce a knocking noise.


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