(no subject)
Anthony had had a plan for the afternoon. It was a good plan, a reasonable plan. A calm plan. He had come out to the beach with a blanket and pile of new art books the bookshelf had graciously provided. His goals had been twofold - to make a few changes to his art curriculum for the next year and, more importantly, to prove Julian wrong on a particular point he had made in an argument the day before.
He had only been outside for long enough to skim through the first few pages of one of the books when the ruination of his plan had arrived, predictably, in the guise of Guy Burgess.
He raised his brows from his book as his friend approached, already well aware that his peace was gone, but with every intention of clinging to it all the same. "Afternoon, Guy."
He had only been outside for long enough to skim through the first few pages of one of the books when the ruination of his plan had arrived, predictably, in the guise of Guy Burgess.
He raised his brows from his book as his friend approached, already well aware that his peace was gone, but with every intention of clinging to it all the same. "Afternoon, Guy."