Chums are settling in the back room of the Feast House ~ post and beam ember dreams gray fog fingers and draping fiords holding patron's gaze
Dandan is nestled in a fireside chat (with a song from Jeremy playing from the high rafter) sail east and greet the dawn young man, distant shores are converging
Old habits die hard for the Great Dane ~ whistling tunes in a somber minor, baritone sounds and orchestra strings rising from a distant, muted choir
Ruby lips and finger tips scour the cockeyed soiree the safe house is old and rendered, but well worth noting
Filling jars with pickled pears, the specialist weeds the white maggot and siphons his favoured grog
"...shackle the outhouse my mates! the foreign scrum is bolting!"