[The wait feels longer than it does, and the bottle of wine that was meant for dinner is half drained by the time Lucretia walks through the front door, a useless attempt to take the edge of his nerves.
The food hasn't suffered for it, but that isn't unusual.]
Hey, bubbale. [It's gentle, the apology in his voice even if the words aren't spoken out loud.] How was work?
breaks down tbh
The food hasn't suffered for it, but that isn't unusual.]
Hey, bubbale. [It's gentle, the apology in his voice even if the words aren't spoken out loud.] How was work?