They'd woken early ( Read more... )

His rooms are basic.

Desk, bed, chairs, wardrobe, and a bookshelf.

He drops his books and papers onto the desk and goes around lighting the lamps before he huffs and flops down into a chair.

So refined.

Robbie looks at Miniver. "I can sleep on the floor," he says, nodding to the bed.

It would fit two snugly, and Robbie was not making

Time has moved forward in London between Miniver's last visit to the church and now. Early fall has given way to early winter. A biting wind awaits the three young men as they leave Milliways, feet crunching on the thin layer of snow covering the streets. It was still early; Mass wouldn't begin for a few hours yet. This was the common routine for ( Read more... )

Robbie opens the door to his room, ushering Miniver in. The room has been tidied, the sheets changed, but the desk is still over burdened with papers and books. He leans against the door, eyes on the poet, a coy smile on his lips.

He watches Miniver.

Everything about him, even the slightest tumble of curls over his brow.

The door had opened on Robbie's room in the Wildes' home. The late afternoon sunlight filters in through the windows, and on the bed are pale pinstriped trousers, a white shirt, a soft brown-coloured coat, and light coloured, striped waistcoat ( Read more... )

Robbie walks into the tailor's, smiling pleasantly at the man behind the counter. He's known John for the last eight months, coming to the man for all his clothing needs. John knows what Robbie enjoys, even if it's a bit of time in the storeroom before a fitting. Robbie's pleasant smile changed to a bit of a fey one, which wasn't lost on John, but ( Read more... )