Private Conversations

[dominioned]

The confessional before you is ornate and well maintained, ebony colored wood embellished with the visage of two angels. A jet black curtain separates the confessional from the rest of the Church, offering a surprising degree of privacy to any eavesdroppers nearby. Unlike the rest of Krakow, the inside is dimly lit by a small light bulb securely attached to the ceiling which emits a faint red light. While the atmosphere isn't exactly cozy, it is private.

A smooth voice calls out to you once you've sat down, familiar enough to identify the speaker despite the partition between you.

"Welcome welcome. I take it something is on your mind?"

We're in a museum now, Harry.

Comments

[bawcock]

That depends on who does the talking. [ A grin!! ]

[dominioned]

If you speak of the Lady, she would have found another way to make you listen to her. She really hates being ignored. [ Letting his hand drop to the side, lightly leaning back on the branch. ]

[bawcock]

Now I almost wish you had. I think we all would've taken her a lot less seriously if she had to play charades—or do an interpretative dance—every week.

[dominioned]

I doubt she would have let me get away with that for too long. [ But he sounds appreciative of the idea. ]

[bawcock]

Only because dancing "you need to kill each other" isn't as effective as yelling it from a clock tower.

[dominioned]

This is true, but she also has two left feet.

[bawcock]

Oh? [ Now it's his turn to rock the branch!! He plops his chin on his palm and then his elbow on his knee. ] That's an interesting thing to know about a person.

Is this the part where you admit you've danced with her before?