Ploughed, cont
Champagne and roses. Do you need anything else? (I already have the music stand.)
He says he’s plotting. Uh huuuuunh.
Actually we were plotting. We were plotting AIR ELEMENTALS. (Again.) I should be able to get a trilogy out of this at least.
Really excellent truffles. Disappearing.
Good dress. Good flowers. Good waistcoat. Good tie, except it doesn’t go with the waistcoat.*
Good shoes. Didn’t want you to miss the shoes.
Really good roses, huh. And, uh, other flowery things. This restaurant will order you a posy and then you can take it home with you.
I am sufficiently wrecked that when we got (variously) home I put harnesses on hellhounds and walked down to the mews for the fresh air cure. Which means that now we have to walk back again.** But by then I may be safe to lie down and go to sleep. At the moment I think I’ll see if I can organise my fingers on a piano keyboard.
I hope hellhounds will not take tonight as a precedent however.
See you tomorrow.
* * *
* Guess who bought him the waistcoat. And the tie. But not together.
** And if it’s raining. . . .
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