hattergonnahat: (conman's such an unpleasant term)
ʝeʄʄeɾsoŋ | ɱɑɗ ɦɑʈʈeɾ ([personal profile] hattergonnahat) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet 2013-05-17 04:54 am (UTC)

[ Of course, Molly replies, in the most skeptical of tones. She has good reason for it, considering both girls are draping themselves over Jefferson as much as they can, one girl pressing a hand to his chest, and both apparently enraptured by whatever he happens to be telling them.

It's the one trick she knows best, working a job like this, she adds. The part of the wounded scoundrel in search of redemption. He promises adventure and maybe even a sliver of his soul to save, and just like that he's got them in the palm of his hand. Even had her feeding him a few free meals out of pity, though she can't bring herself to regret it now. He's not a bad man, she admits. Were she younger, she might have gone with him herself.

There's a careless shrug and she sets about wiping down the counter, while one of the girls nudges a tankard full of mead into the hatter's hands. He still looks a little uncomfortable, but he seems to have fallen into the rhythm of a story. He doesn't even seem to care that one girl is resting her head on his shoulder. ]

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