when skies are grey // o - mass m&g

[mordecai]

Good, guests. He was half expecting to be in the company of an empty house for the rest of the afternoon. Mordecai washed his hands before moving to greet them, dressed in black (one could have surmised it was a grieving thing were it not, in fact, a habit of his to dress darkly established before the wife dying) and with his long hair pinned back as it usually was.

“[color=#6E7F80]I almost feared all of Griffingate was too busy to humor me,” He began with a warm grin, moving to shake their hands. “[color=#6E7F80]I am Mordecai Cîrstea, it’s a pleasure. I felt we could all use something to bolster the sense of community around here.” He explained, moving his hands in simple gestures as he spoke.

“[color=#6E7F80]I hope the wasps gave you no trouble. I’ve been meaning to remove the nest.” Mordecai didn’t fear bugs, but he wasn’t a fan of the notoriously sting-y type gluing a hive right outside his doorway. He beckoned for them both to make themselves comfortable. “[color=#6E7F80]Make yourselves at home, and feel free to leave whenever like, I won’t take any prisoners.” He joked, knowing all too well how irritating it was when a host ensnared you.