electrocynic | The Fortress, London, Saturday Afternoon

The cornershop by the Fortress was still run by the creepy old man who smelled like eggs. Inside the Fortress, the ladies' room line was still endless, Devlin was still a prick, and Norse Dave still lapsed into non sequiturs about his PTSD while getting beers for punters.

But, even Sarh had to grudgingly agree that the booth was still there, too. The four of them – Sarah, Jenny, Alex, and Don – still occupied the same space as they had for many years prior to her sudden move across the pond. Everything was about the same. Jenny's bubbly stories of dating woes, Alex's whining about not being famous or successful enough, and Don's tales of ill-advised men's room hook-ups included. Sarah would not have admitted to anyone, but she felt normal here.

And yet she was still looking up Portalocity prices back to Fandom either today or tomorrow, anyway. Too much of a good thing could be bad, or some bullshit like that.

[ooc: NFB, but open, as these things tend to be!]