[it's out a week, because f.a.t.e.s. isn't like shopping at the grocery store. or even shopping at the grocery store with f.a.t.e.s. just a week though, and then a text dings into arthur's phone. the pub, three hours.
by then, the sun is beginning to set of xistentia, gradiating the sky in fuchsia, gold, a gorgeous shade of maroon. it's pretty early yet for drinking, when you're thinking about social mores and norms, but when the multiverse is on the brink of destruction, you're allowed. also: arthur's a british man, now stepping into a reasonable facsimile of a british pub. there's a young man waiting for him at the counter, dark hair and dark eyes. black clothes, which is either dramatic or a statement, to the extent that those things differ.
→ action;
by then, the sun is beginning to set of xistentia, gradiating the sky in fuchsia, gold, a gorgeous shade of maroon. it's pretty early yet for drinking, when you're thinking about social mores and norms, but when the multiverse is on the brink of destruction, you're allowed. also: arthur's a british man, now stepping into a reasonable facsimile of a british pub. there's a young man waiting for him at the counter, dark hair and dark eyes. black clothes, which is either dramatic or a statement, to the extent that those things differ.
janus looks up. flashes him a smile.]
You must be Arthur.