*in the basement, trying to focus*
*slams fist into a nearby box* Bloody hell! *shakes hand and checks label* Test cauldrons, of course. Just my sodding, stupid luck.
The Great Git is still family, eh? He's done a brill job of acting it, hasn't he? He doesn't deserve a second chance; he'll just bollocks it up again next time he's sure he's right, which is always, isn't it?
And now look what he's done; two years later and Fred's convinced that it's time to reconcile or some touchy-feely wankery like that.
And Mum-- that's what Mum said, too... "He's your brother, George, whether we agree with him or not"... and then she just burst into tears again...
I wonder if Mum's forgiven him? Dad? Anyone? Am I the only one that still wants to kick his arse?
*perches on a stool behind the tall, beaten-up work table; drops head onto one forearm and pokes the quill at a glowing, flourescent jar with the other*
I can't be. His crimes are too heinous. His transgressions against the family too deep. He did leave us. Just like when we kids, he was always off somewhere trying to hide from us; trying to pretend he was better, smarter, more refined than all of us...
...trying not to be one of us, loud, poor rabble. And now he has his wish. And now Freddy wants me to make nice with him. Could I even be civil to him if I tried?
*snaps quill in two*
Bloody hell. I guess those owls will have to wait until tomorrow.
The Great Git is still family, eh? He's done a brill job of acting it, hasn't he? He doesn't deserve a second chance; he'll just bollocks it up again next time he's sure he's right, which is always, isn't it?
And now look what he's done; two years later and Fred's convinced that it's time to reconcile or some touchy-feely wankery like that.
And Mum-- that's what Mum said, too... "He's your brother, George, whether we agree with him or not"... and then she just burst into tears again...
I wonder if Mum's forgiven him? Dad? Anyone? Am I the only one that still wants to kick his arse?
*perches on a stool behind the tall, beaten-up work table; drops head onto one forearm and pokes the quill at a glowing, flourescent jar with the other*
I can't be. His crimes are too heinous. His transgressions against the family too deep. He did leave us. Just like when we kids, he was always off somewhere trying to hide from us; trying to pretend he was better, smarter, more refined than all of us...
...trying not to be one of us, loud, poor rabble. And now he has his wish. And now Freddy wants me to make nice with him. Could I even be civil to him if I tried?
*snaps quill in two*
Bloody hell. I guess those owls will have to wait until tomorrow.