[Cathryn Crawford]

As she sat in quiet contemplation of the heat that enveloped the entire room, nay, her entire world, she slowly ran her finger around in the dust of the never polished oak desk at which she sat. As she did, the music and the words that she wrote formed a simple sort of medley that ran rampant in her head. The musty smell of the aging parlor only added to the feeling of timelessness that was seeping into her bones.


[Back to you.]

[A_perfect_lady]

As she sat in quiet contemplation of the heat that enveloped the entire room, nay, her entire world, she slowly ran her finger around in the dust of the never polished oak desk at which she sat. As she did, the music and the words that she wrote formed a simple sort of medley that ran rampant in her head. The musty smell of the aging parlor only added to the feeling of timelessness that was seeping into her bones.

He swept into the parlor like a brazen, fresh breeze. "Dust this place!" He snapped, cracking his riding crop against the desk. She cowered in fear. Dust? What, like a mere servant? How?

[gcruse]

Maybe she knew he was coming and had just
forgotten, or maybe Cathryn wanted to punish
Brent for some unintended slight, but even
though she recognized the timidity of his light
rap on her door, her hand dropped off the
edge of the correspondence desk onto a crystal
faceted knob drawer pull.  The drawer gave no resistance
and she pulled it out, her glance seeking out the
1911 model Colt pistol as her hand wrapped
around the ivory grip in a practiced single
motion.

"Brent?  Is that you?" and she pull back the hammer.

             [Over to you]