By the time he crossed into the tavern's not so admirable seating area, the priestess, hidden under her hooded robe, sat with a menu sprawled onto her face. Slid into the L-shape seat, he faced she who had her attention firmed onto the alcoholic-drink section.
"Demoness, I've arrived."
"I see," the large cardboard laid onto the table, she fixed her fist onto a sightly crinkled edge, "-I want to order some rum."
"This early in the morning?"
"Yes," the hood fell backward, to which affectionately shaped eyelashes and a slight sneer, landed on the displayed diagram, "-I want that," she smiled.
'Photos in this day and age?' paused to stare, '-looks like there's more to Draebala than imagined.' "Fess up."
"No need for impatience," she replied smoothly, "-have thee read the letters?"
"No?"
"Read them meanwhile I wait for the cocktails."
"Understood," he reluctantly resummoned the letters, residual darkened energy dissipated with a few shake of the hands, '-let's see.'
