sneaky

Mina de Malfois and the Death of the Author: Part 2

The next couple of days, I don’t mind telling you, were somewhat strained. Initially at least, being confined to barracks did nothing for the general morale of the convention, and neither did the likelihood that we were all sleeping under the same roof as a cold-blooded poisoner. It rather took the joy out of one’s morning coffee. At least, however, I had somewhere to lay my head. PrinceC had solicitously offered me a bunk, as had Warr1or (not that I would have accepted; I wasn’t speaking to him just at that moment), but upon submitting myself to the hotel’s front desk, I found to my alarm that there was already a room booked in my name, and paid for. Collapse )