Snippet #1858222

Étaín sipped at her meade knowing full well if she wanted the actually meade since Bunratty was more of a white wine than actually meade that she had to go back over to Ireland. It wasn’t bad. It had aged nicely and she loved that about the meade. Turning in the barstool she watched one of the TVs as it aired the news. There was some hope that she would get some type of clue on where to go from where she was presently at.

Sighing she poured herself another glass as she watched the foot traffic. There wasn’t anything much better to do. Quickly she asked for a menu and looked it down before deciding on something small that wouldn’t clash with the meade, a little dessert piece was perfect. One of the good things about being an immortal, she worked out because she had nothing better to do and her figure hadn’t changed since she remembered even when she never worked out.

When her food came out, she half turned in the seat to eat and drink, but still watch everything. She didn’t like being in new places before she’d gotten the general idea of what the place was like. D.C. was no place to be caught alone which meant she would have to stop drinking soon. Most women now couldn’t hold their liquor or even drank more than one glass of wine. So she knew that taking anymore than a second would seem odd.

It was funny how one learned to adapt so easily. All the things one did to stay hidden. Truthfully, she was tired of hiding. She hated moving around and longed only to stay in one place. Ireland sounded great and still besides of her memory of the place she didn’t understand why. Unconsciously, she fingered the Celtic cross at her neck knowing just how old it was before going back to eating her dessert just happening to catch bits and pieces of the conversation at the front by the windows.