"What a fine name." he said with a laugh. I suppose I could tell you a name if not the name, call me Monsieur Morts-Vivants." He uncorked the wine and poured it into a glass rolling it in his hand, a moment of calm washed over him, as he whispered, a sad look in his eye, "So many names to remember." He smiled again, "I must wash up a bit, I will see you again. I plan on staying until my relation returns." He threw back the glass and stood, bowing. He walked to the inn counter, "A room.... and fresh clothing if that is possible."
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Yet Another Night in the Quicksand (Open - New Night) |
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