(no subject)
It might be said that Gilbert is doing himself permanent harm by skipping his school lessons quite as often as he does.
To which he would reply that it is a Monday morning, and he is lounging at the Bar in a long nightshirt and pants, buttering a croissant and watching a big cup of tea cool to a drinkable heat in front of him. There's a little book of French poetry open next to his tea's saucer, though it's only getting an occasional glance from the boy, and he looks about as relaxed as he ever does.
Meanwhile, his classmates are back home, trudging through the morning snow to get from the dormitories to their first classes.
He smirks softly: education, schmeducation.
(Open forever. :D)
To which he would reply that it is a Monday morning, and he is lounging at the Bar in a long nightshirt and pants, buttering a croissant and watching a big cup of tea cool to a drinkable heat in front of him. There's a little book of French poetry open next to his tea's saucer, though it's only getting an occasional glance from the boy, and he looks about as relaxed as he ever does.
Meanwhile, his classmates are back home, trudging through the morning snow to get from the dormitories to their first classes.
He smirks softly: education, schmeducation.
(Open forever. :D)