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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Dave Turner" data-source="post: 3217726" data-attributes="member: 12329">Akilu hesitates in the doorway for a moment, rain-wet hand lingering on the door handle, as the old whore mentions how the ghost's mood has recently improved. Why does a ghost feel better as new killings have begun?  The heat of the bakery is a mild irritation, since it will excessively dry his skin.  Akilu's feet drag in a few clods of wet sand.  He stands near the center of the small patch of floor space allowed to customers.  His wet leather creaks faintly as he swivels his torso to take in the shop's interior.  At the far end of Salt Spray Street, the shelves are mostly empty, no sign of the pastries that might fill a Midtown or Oldtown bakery.  "Sure, Blackburn, a couple of loaves will go well with my fish later on.  Wax paper, if you don't mind.  It's wet outside."Akilu looks down to Maugra, wondering if she might be better suited to ask for a lantern.  The darfellan is known by most who live on The Docks, but most have never really warmed to him.[sblock=OOC]Whiz, I figure that since Akilu has spent most of his life in the Docks and it's a relatively small community, he probably knows Blackburn by name and reputation, at least.  Nothing more than a faint acquaintance, but enough to address him by name.   If not, then assume Akilu is a bit more formal.[/sblock]</blockquote>