Jan 18, 2018
Abigail shows up at Maudlin's shop (as she sometimes does), with breakfast and hot drinks and a quiet, thoughtful look on her face. She's still in blacks and gloom, her coat stiff and buttony, her braid tucked inside it.
“You’re thinkin’ up a storm.” He says when he greets her at the door, a sad smile painted on his face. He takes the hot drinks, and places them on the table, readying two seats for them to sit down at.
“Anythin’ I can do t’help y’weather through it?”