It Was, Yet Again, The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul...
WHO: The Brothers two (Dewi and John)
WHEN: May 13th, evening, night
WHERE: A small cafe- it's always a small cafe
WHAT: It was only supposed to be a cuppa...
RATING: A for Awkward brotherly bonding
No time for brooding when tea is on the line.
Not every man would admit to their mother's influence as having had a great effect on them and that was almost a shame to John Paul. Boisterous, overbearing and horrifically omnipresent the woman was, without his mum's constant heckling or cryptic sayings, he might not have gotten as far as he did. Brute strength, raw creativity and a few matches only did so much. Time, patience and perserverence, a bit more.
What was all of that without the singular piece of advice he carried with him wherever he went? Crossing oceans, desserts, forests, mountains. Come deadline or hellfire, as long as he remembered what she had told him as a lad, he had gotten through everything.
Bless Dewi for reminding him that a good cuppa solved everything.
Blinking bleariness out of his reddened eyes, John gave another halfhearted wheeze into his tissue, tucking it into a pocket as he slumped a small, rickety iron chair in the front of Claire de Loon. An interesting spot nearly overshadowed by everything else around it, the discovery of its charming wares had been quite a happy accident. A literal stumbling through the door after a rogue biker had just about run him over for the upteenth time in a day. How it had managed to survive as long as it did with seemingly no one knowing of its location remained ever the mystery.
The secret behind their special blend of oolong, perhaps more so.
He glanced about- left, right, up, down, every which way- before procurring a small case from another pocket as he waited. Clicked it open, pulled out the contents.
And perched a ridiculously bright pair of reading glasses on his nose as he craned forward to look at the menu in front of him.
Blast the stupid, thick headed Aussie bastard for addling his head up further...
WHEN: May 13th, evening, night
WHERE: A small cafe- it's always a small cafe
WHAT: It was only supposed to be a cuppa...
RATING: A for Awkward brotherly bonding
No time for brooding when tea is on the line.
Not every man would admit to their mother's influence as having had a great effect on them and that was almost a shame to John Paul. Boisterous, overbearing and horrifically omnipresent the woman was, without his mum's constant heckling or cryptic sayings, he might not have gotten as far as he did. Brute strength, raw creativity and a few matches only did so much. Time, patience and perserverence, a bit more.
What was all of that without the singular piece of advice he carried with him wherever he went? Crossing oceans, desserts, forests, mountains. Come deadline or hellfire, as long as he remembered what she had told him as a lad, he had gotten through everything.
Bless Dewi for reminding him that a good cuppa solved everything.
Blinking bleariness out of his reddened eyes, John gave another halfhearted wheeze into his tissue, tucking it into a pocket as he slumped a small, rickety iron chair in the front of Claire de Loon. An interesting spot nearly overshadowed by everything else around it, the discovery of its charming wares had been quite a happy accident. A literal stumbling through the door after a rogue biker had just about run him over for the upteenth time in a day. How it had managed to survive as long as it did with seemingly no one knowing of its location remained ever the mystery.
The secret behind their special blend of oolong, perhaps more so.
He glanced about- left, right, up, down, every which way- before procurring a small case from another pocket as he waited. Clicked it open, pulled out the contents.
And perched a ridiculously bright pair of reading glasses on his nose as he craned forward to look at the menu in front of him.
Blast the stupid, thick headed Aussie bastard for addling his head up further...