I may have to pass on this delightful team bonding exercise of yours. But you're all welcome to it.
[ the door swings open as they approach and they see the store owner on the step. "Welcome, my friends, welcome," he greets them. he is a tall, rail-thin man in his 60s, with a sharp but open face, a firm smile, and twinkling blue eyes. his gray hair is cut short but shows little evidence of thinning, and he appears to be in relatively good health. he wears a black turtleneck sweater, dark-gray slacks, and comfortable-looking leather shoes. and i just decided he's steve martin. so there you go.
he motions them into the store as he speaks. "I thank you for getting here so quickly. Few people understand the importance of punctuality these days."
the place smells of old paper and fresh coffee, a comfortable, old bookstore smell. the front area of the shop as he leads them inside features racks of periodicals and newspapers, a shelf full of recent book releases (fiction and non-fiction), and a few free-standing shelves devoted to noteworthy books and sale-priced items. the middle of the shop features a long cashier's counter and bookshelves divided by topics. they see signs identifying 'science fiction' and 'mystery', 'horror' and 'romance', as well as 'health' 'travel' 'cooking' 'reference' 'textbooks' 'humor' 'current events' 'arcane lore' and 'roleplaying games'. a cafe of sorts occupies the rear corner of the shop, made up of a cluster of tables and chairs and a counter set with coffee and tea pots, mugs, cookies, and muffins.
he leads them to these back tables, and they'd notice no one else is currently in the shop. "I'm Alexander Broggon, proprietor here. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea?" ]
no subject
[ the door swings open as they approach and they see the store owner on the step. "Welcome, my friends, welcome," he greets them. he is a tall, rail-thin man in his 60s, with a sharp but open face, a firm smile, and twinkling blue eyes. his gray hair is cut short but shows little evidence of thinning, and he appears to be in relatively good health. he wears a black turtleneck sweater, dark-gray slacks, and comfortable-looking leather shoes. and i just decided he's steve martin. so there you go.
he motions them into the store as he speaks. "I thank you for getting here so quickly. Few people understand the importance of punctuality these days."
the place smells of old paper and fresh coffee, a comfortable, old bookstore smell. the front area of the shop as he leads them inside features racks of periodicals and newspapers, a shelf full of recent book releases (fiction and non-fiction), and a few free-standing shelves devoted to noteworthy books and sale-priced items. the middle of the shop features a long cashier's counter and bookshelves divided by topics. they see signs identifying 'science fiction' and 'mystery', 'horror' and 'romance', as well as 'health' 'travel' 'cooking' 'reference' 'textbooks' 'humor' 'current events' 'arcane lore' and 'roleplaying games'. a cafe of sorts occupies the rear corner of the shop, made up of a cluster of tables and chairs and a counter set with coffee and tea pots, mugs, cookies, and muffins.
he leads them to these back tables, and they'd notice no one else is currently in the shop. "I'm Alexander Broggon, proprietor here. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea?" ]