The Sand: I - 21 JUNE 186821 JUNE, 1868
Grey observed the room quietly from his corner, just another secretive adventurer passing through the churning gates of Timbuktu. All around him swirled other patrons, dancing, mingling, feuding. Across his table, Zéphyrine was upright, stiff like a soldier, armed with pen and paper. She looked at the slight englishman before her, her mouth twinging in subtle disgust at his groomed wild hair and practised fool's grin. His features were roguish too, proudly wearing his weather-worn face, slightly-greying hair only adding to his boyish charm.
"It's unlike you to be this quiet, Brown. Shouldn't you be up having the ladies fall about your feet?" came her petite voice, flawlessly hiding her french accent.. Brown's eyes snapped to hers, eyeing up her angled features with a measured playfulness before replying.
"Shouldn't you be acquainting yourself with the charming officers? Capturing a city's hard, and I'm sure you'd