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Entry tags:
Inevitable, Really
January 19th, 2022
"John, honestly." Martin shivers, digging his hands deeper into the pockets of the rather nice coat that is apparently his. He's standing on a stony portion of beach, where the day's mild chill has become much colder, and John is crouching down in the sand, seeking fossils. This has gotten rather out of hand, he thinks. They'd been having a perfectly fine time at Darrow's museum, last stop on the general tour, until the conversation had gotten away from them and had turned to a revelation of John's childhood hobby. Now they're out here, his own delight at learning this detail having driven John on this mission that is rapidly growing ridiculous. He'd been charmed by the idea of John digging around for fossils, but now one or both of them is running the risk of catching cold, and it'll be his fault. "It's okay if you don't find anything. It's probably not the right... time of year?" He grimaces at how stupid that sounds. "Well, I suppose fossils don't really have seasons, do they."
Not exactly helping his case. He hunches his shoulders and looks out at the horizon, the grey water stretching out to an apparently unreachable distance. Sort of haunting, actually.
"You'll catch your death out here," he scolds, turning his attention back to John.
"John, honestly." Martin shivers, digging his hands deeper into the pockets of the rather nice coat that is apparently his. He's standing on a stony portion of beach, where the day's mild chill has become much colder, and John is crouching down in the sand, seeking fossils. This has gotten rather out of hand, he thinks. They'd been having a perfectly fine time at Darrow's museum, last stop on the general tour, until the conversation had gotten away from them and had turned to a revelation of John's childhood hobby. Now they're out here, his own delight at learning this detail having driven John on this mission that is rapidly growing ridiculous. He'd been charmed by the idea of John digging around for fossils, but now one or both of them is running the risk of catching cold, and it'll be his fault. "It's okay if you don't find anything. It's probably not the right... time of year?" He grimaces at how stupid that sounds. "Well, I suppose fossils don't really have seasons, do they."
Not exactly helping his case. He hunches his shoulders and looks out at the horizon, the grey water stretching out to an apparently unreachable distance. Sort of haunting, actually.
"You'll catch your death out here," he scolds, turning his attention back to John.