12-31-2017, 12:14 PM
Initially Margot didn't want to go on a trip to Los Angeles. William had brought up Pan, how he would be a good source for question-asking about the Celestial Chorus and if he had ever heard of her father or what he does or anything of that nature. When he suggested that they go visit to LA, the witch looked uncomfortable-- she was nervous about leaving the house for long, especially with the Library still feeling as volatile as it was, and generally just a bit of a homebody who appreciated the feel of her own bed and pillow at night.
Will had offered to carry along any questions she had to ask in her stead, and that caused her to stop and think and scowl and, ultimately, relent. Realizing that digging for information was more of an interactive thing than a 'send a messenger' affair (for how would she know what follow-up questions to ask if she wasn't hearing the information in real time?), she sighed and agreed to pack a bag.
Margot proved not to be too nervous of a flyer, though she did grasp her hands together firmly and close her eyes and steady her breathing intentionally during both take-off and landing. She didn't sleep as Will did, but rather listened to the quiet rhythm of his breathing and the low hum of the plane itself while intermittently reading and staring out the window lost in thought.
Upon arrival, both to LA and this little tortilleria, Margot was ravenous and antsy alike. She glanced around without judgment for the execution of paint or choice of decorations, and was soon focused on picking a burrito and Mexican Coke alike. She was eyeballing the pastries like she may be back for one of them later, too. She'd just have to see if she still had enough of an appetite left for one after hearing what this Pan fellow had to say; she suspected chances were good that what she would learn may have her belly feeling full of rocks soon enough.
Will had offered to carry along any questions she had to ask in her stead, and that caused her to stop and think and scowl and, ultimately, relent. Realizing that digging for information was more of an interactive thing than a 'send a messenger' affair (for how would she know what follow-up questions to ask if she wasn't hearing the information in real time?), she sighed and agreed to pack a bag.
Margot proved not to be too nervous of a flyer, though she did grasp her hands together firmly and close her eyes and steady her breathing intentionally during both take-off and landing. She didn't sleep as Will did, but rather listened to the quiet rhythm of his breathing and the low hum of the plane itself while intermittently reading and staring out the window lost in thought.
Upon arrival, both to LA and this little tortilleria, Margot was ravenous and antsy alike. She glanced around without judgment for the execution of paint or choice of decorations, and was soon focused on picking a burrito and Mexican Coke alike. She was eyeballing the pastries like she may be back for one of them later, too. She'd just have to see if she still had enough of an appetite left for one after hearing what this Pan fellow had to say; she suspected chances were good that what she would learn may have her belly feeling full of rocks soon enough.