"Ah, Maury, your pages--" A quick hand knocked the finished pages askew moments before the fourth caught aflame, and the Tailor, with a brush of their sleeve, knocked it off the table over the side. It was still drifting, alight, when they moved with speed and surety, grabbing the atomizer and dousing the sheet with the same swiftness a hunter might turn a corner and fire on a pursuer.
You know. For a random comparison.
The wet sheet landed on the floor, sodden, the unburnt ink quickly becoming illegible. The Tailor turned back to the Socialite with a grimace, shaking out their sleeve. The linen was slightly darkened in a spot. Out of caution, they soaked the fabric, but it appeared to just be soot. Their was a pinch in their brow--was it concern?
"That was closer than I'd like. Is the other work salvageable?"
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Re: Activity
Date: 2025-06-18 12:21 am (UTC)You know. For a random comparison.
The wet sheet landed on the floor, sodden, the unburnt ink quickly becoming illegible. The Tailor turned back to the Socialite with a grimace, shaking out their sleeve. The linen was slightly darkened in a spot. Out of caution, they soaked the fabric, but it appeared to just be soot. Their was a pinch in their brow--was it concern?
"That was closer than I'd like. Is the other work salvageable?"