Ringer stops a couple meters short of the bars, glancing to the officer who escorted her as the woman takes up a nearby post. It's clear that they won't be getting more privacy than that. Begrudgingly, the girl moves forward to close some of the distance, out of reach of the man, but close enough to hopefully not be entirely overheard.
The day before, Lancelot had seemed not to remember her at all and had instead spent his time flirting, as if she was a trophy in a bar to take home at the end of the night. Now he was in jail. The two things were both incongruous with her previous encounters with the man and, quite frankly, a bit worrying in general.
After a short silence, she shifts her weight before speaking. "Which Lancelot are you?"
Ringer has no idea there are literally two of them out in the world at present. To her, it's likely a curse, mental illness, or some other affliction in the same mind and body that's making him act as different people. Because her last meeting with him wasn't an act. There was nothing of the man she had worked with before in the one she had encountered yesterday.
ii
The day before, Lancelot had seemed not to remember her at all and had instead spent his time flirting, as if she was a trophy in a bar to take home at the end of the night. Now he was in jail. The two things were both incongruous with her previous encounters with the man and, quite frankly, a bit worrying in general.
After a short silence, she shifts her weight before speaking. "Which Lancelot are you?"
Ringer has no idea there are literally two of them out in the world at present. To her, it's likely a curse, mental illness, or some other affliction in the same mind and body that's making him act as different people. Because her last meeting with him wasn't an act. There was nothing of the man she had worked with before in the one she had encountered yesterday.