In Pursuit of Booty

Sybil waits patiently while he gathers himself; either she’s used to his behaviors while under the influence, or she’s seen it before elsewhere. In either case, she doesn’t seem surprised, and instead smiles brightly when he snaps to again. Folding her hands over the table, she pauses to think.

“I’d like an animal theme this year, in the fall colors which suit me,” she replies finally. “A fox, maybe, or a bird of some kind… well, a songbird of some kind. I’d never be caught dead as a turkey!” She shudders at the thought.

Darzi nods, lower lip thrust out in concentration, tapping his pencil on his paper. He remains silent for a full minute after Sybil has stopped speaking. Finally, he speaks:

“There’s nothing wrong with Turke– THRUSH!”

He slaps his hand on the table, then winces and holds it gingerly.

“Thrush. Thrush, a thrush. You know those birds up in Fairview woods. Speckled and brown.”

Sybil can’t help but giggle again. “Oh dear. We’re close to Traverson, darling,” she reminds him gently. “We decided to meet at this little cafe to talk about your plans for your new line… and I was hoping to commission a new costume for you for my soiree. I don’t suppose you’d be so inclined…?” She gazes at him with wide, doeful eyes and a slight pout.

Darzi stares for just a smidge too long, eyes wide and unfocused. Then he reanimates with a bounce and a smile.

“Oh yeah! Right! Traverson! Commissions! Gotcha!”

He gives a savvy nod and pulls a pencil and sketchpad out of his jacket.