pen scribbling furiously against paper, he wrote. his stolen borrowed glasses sat atop the bridge of his nose. he certainly had no use of it, and it was painful to see through, but he was in one of his moods and he felt like it.
getting a sense in the tavern, he noticed that it was getting a little too quiet for his liking and so after finishing a rough -- very rough -- draft of his next escapade with his crew, he stood up, intending to leave, only to be stopped by the source of the quiet.
she was a beaut, he admitted to himself with a shrug and understood why the other patrons of the tavern weren’t making such god awful noise. he was so caught up in his own thoughts he had no idea that he had been ogling for a full minute.
‘ nice. ’
starter for @valcrious