William Evans (
not_his_pa) wrote in
milliways_bar2011-02-24 09:42 pm
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William's over by the fire with a worn dime novel in his hands that he's not really reading. Knowing what's wrong with Mark is good and there's medicine for it, so that's a start.
He knows he worries more than he should but that's what his father did, he has to take care of everyone.
His coffee's going cold and he's close to falling asleep in his chair with his hat pulled down but his thoughts keep going around and around.
He knows he worries more than he should but that's what his father did, he has to take care of everyone.
His coffee's going cold and he's close to falling asleep in his chair with his hat pulled down but his thoughts keep going around and around.

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And to ask if she wants the workout clothes he borrowed back now, or if he should launder them first. Apparently, the latter.
Fair enough.
So when he settles onto one of the couches near the fire -- not far from William, although with plenty of distance for politely ignoring each other's existence, because that's how Trowa rolls -- it's with a small bundle of slightly sweaty fabric, which he sets down on the floor.
And the water, which he doesn't.
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(There's nothing in there.)
Trowa nods back, slightly. Because he's capable of manners, once in a while.
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Trowa notes it; he's too far away for a good look at the text, though, other than the cover.
So he has some water instead of trying.
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As it is, he can get the gist -- a cheap action-packed story for mass markets, probably aimed at the young, probably meant as civilian escapism -- but not the specific details.
Ah well.
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Trowa has water. And a room full of people to take notes on.
I mean, to watch idly.