Cru..Curos..Curois... Odd Folk.

Earnest leaned forward in his seat, it was a comfortable seat and probably would have felt pretty smug about that fact if it had been able to see the pale, fraught faces of the visitors’, he beckoned the guests to be seated on a hard uncompromising settle that was positioned a tad too close to the open range to be kind to white collars or any attempt at cool demeanour. Compliance started as the fire spat risibly in their direction, and then studiously ignored the fizzling coal that bounced off her ample lap and came to rest against Dutch’s slightly trembling boot. Dutch, who was suffering from the mother of all hangovers and ruing his decision to come along, tried to make his long, angular shape look less like it was about to slide off the narrow seat than he actually felt it was. Turncoat remained standing, hands in pockets, half immersed in the shadows of the dimly lit kitchen. Bootlick, the fourth member of the delegation, still hadn’t arrived but everybody was certain she’d attend eventually.

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