Curry with a side order of ~The Past~
WHO: England and India
WHEN: Friday Afternoon (18 September)
WHERE: Masālā Restaurant
WHAT: I-I know we're not on the best of terms, but please don't put any Bhut Jolokia peppers in my food...
Despite the layers of wool and cotton adorning him from neck to toe, the cold wind mercilessly bit into Arthur, stinging his cheeks and making him feel like he was in nothing but his skivvies. He shivered something fierce and once again vowed to himself that this was the absolutely last time he would ever listen to the incompetent weathermen over here! How did people across the pond ever dressed for the correct weather and not accidentally freeze to death? Especially when the supposed meteorologist explicitly said fair skies with a low of -6°C! Well, technically the ponce had said 22°F, but metric was by far the more reasonable system in Arthur’s eyes.
Another violent gust cut through Arthur and stopped him in his tracks as he fruitlessly huddled against a store front. Ridiculous! At this rate it would take at least another hour before he reached the warmth of his house if the wind didn’t simply pick him up and batter him around first. And he was already in poor shape from braving the cold for this long already. All to buy one measly paperback! As loathed as he was to admit it, he needed to go inside for a bit. Perhaps also have something to eat--
The distinct spicy smell reached his nose and warmed his senses long before he spotted the restaurant. It was a mesmerizing, heavenly smell in this cold - one that he knew quite well.
The idea of partaking in food coaxed a few more steps out of Arthur before he was finally at the front door and glorious heat met his chilled skin as he quickly slipped inside - unwilling to let any of the warmth escape. Luckily for him, the restaurant was only half-full (though Arthur had the feeling that the being half-full in this restaurant was as close to being empty) and in short order he was directed to a table that was so surrounded by the heady smells of what the restaurant had to offer, that it was surely nearby the kitchens.
Oh yes, Arthur decided. A bowl of curry would be just the thing to give him the strength to make the trip home without contracting a bad case of the jitters for more than a couple hours.
WHEN: Friday Afternoon (18 September)
WHERE: Masālā Restaurant
WHAT: I-I know we're not on the best of terms, but please don't put any Bhut Jolokia peppers in my food...
Despite the layers of wool and cotton adorning him from neck to toe, the cold wind mercilessly bit into Arthur, stinging his cheeks and making him feel like he was in nothing but his skivvies. He shivered something fierce and once again vowed to himself that this was the absolutely last time he would ever listen to the incompetent weathermen over here! How did people across the pond ever dressed for the correct weather and not accidentally freeze to death? Especially when the supposed meteorologist explicitly said fair skies with a low of -6°C! Well, technically the ponce had said 22°F, but metric was by far the more reasonable system in Arthur’s eyes.
Another violent gust cut through Arthur and stopped him in his tracks as he fruitlessly huddled against a store front. Ridiculous! At this rate it would take at least another hour before he reached the warmth of his house if the wind didn’t simply pick him up and batter him around first. And he was already in poor shape from braving the cold for this long already. All to buy one measly paperback! As loathed as he was to admit it, he needed to go inside for a bit. Perhaps also have something to eat--
The distinct spicy smell reached his nose and warmed his senses long before he spotted the restaurant. It was a mesmerizing, heavenly smell in this cold - one that he knew quite well.
The idea of partaking in food coaxed a few more steps out of Arthur before he was finally at the front door and glorious heat met his chilled skin as he quickly slipped inside - unwilling to let any of the warmth escape. Luckily for him, the restaurant was only half-full (though Arthur had the feeling that the being half-full in this restaurant was as close to being empty) and in short order he was directed to a table that was so surrounded by the heady smells of what the restaurant had to offer, that it was surely nearby the kitchens.
Oh yes, Arthur decided. A bowl of curry would be just the thing to give him the strength to make the trip home without contracting a bad case of the jitters for more than a couple hours.