TERRY: I'm dreaming, dreaming of the day I can control myself . . .

[poison__eclair]

July 22nd, 1997: Post-Sixth YearFucking Knockturn Alley. I could blame it all on this street. As if the cobblestones breathed corruption, wafting up to my window, coming in the through the cracks and mingling with the pot smoke and dust on the floorboards

Comments

[poison__eclair]

Jesus Christ.

Are you sure you want to stay there? Because my father really wouldn't mind if I let you come crash at his flat, you know. I'm there right now, of course, if that makes a difference.

~Shame

[poison__eclair]

You mean you aren't going to berate me for "hurting Blaise"?

I'm shocked, Finnigan. Truly shocked.

TB

[poison__eclair]

Please, Terry. There's only so much in your life that I can blame you for. This isn't one of those things.

I swear I mean it: We'll come get you if we have to.

[poison__eclair]

Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine. Anyway, it's not as if he lives with me or anything.

[poison__eclair]

No, but your uncle does.

[poison__eclair]

I can handle him too. A couple bruises here and there aren't fatal.

[poison__eclair]

[poison__eclair]

Thanks, Mr. Finnigan, but I'm really all right.

Besides, there is no way out.

[poison__eclair]

[poison__eclair]

Are you going to start calling me "grasshopper" now?

[poison__eclair]

Terry, be nice. That's my father, remember?

[poison__eclair]

[poison__eclair]

Yeah, I guess you do sound a bit Zen master. But in a badly-dubbed kung fu movie way.

[poison__eclair]

[poison__eclair]

Does he sleep with a stuffed bear?

[poison__eclair]

NO.