The Blue Lion

[jammi]

Peterson stiffened, his face losing its jovial quality. He paused to take a draw from his pint before turning around and giving Aaron a cool appraisal. "No, they didn't. They agreed that you were an utter berk, then let me go." He took another sip, attempting to ignore Mr Clark's somewhat aggravating grin.

One of the women he had passed caught him peering at her breasts and gave him the one finger salute. Peterson sniggered. "Be careful Aaron, I wouldn't want to see you being paddled by a woman." The bartender scribbled some notes down on his jotting-paper. Two pints on a Mr MacFarlane.

Suddenly Peterson froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He could feel a dark presence on his soul, an enity of pure fury bearing down on him, hundreds of light-years distant. He seemed to hear something on the very edge of audibility. "PPPEEEETTTEEERRSSSOOONNNNNNN!!!" He shuddered and turned back to his drink, unnerved.

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