(no subject)
It's been a pretty good day, so far. Sunny was in a good mood, Anthony didn't get into anything deadly (he has a habit of trying to unstick the spelled-shut kitchen cupboards; Bernard's greatest fear is that magical tendencies'll kick in at the exact wrong time), Ellie and Hiss mostly left each other alone, and the bar didn't experience any crises.
It's late afternoon. Anthony and Sunny are down for naps, and Bernard is on the floor of the master bedroom, fiddling with a prototype in a patch of sun; he's attaching wires, and there just wasn't enough light in the study, so he's by the French doors that lead to the porch, his hair askew, his hands dusty.
"Fuck," he breathes, the needle-nosed pliers slipping off the connector and pulling the green wire free. "Goddammit."
It's late afternoon. Anthony and Sunny are down for naps, and Bernard is on the floor of the master bedroom, fiddling with a prototype in a patch of sun; he's attaching wires, and there just wasn't enough light in the study, so he's by the French doors that lead to the porch, his hair askew, his hands dusty.
"Fuck," he breathes, the needle-nosed pliers slipping off the connector and pulling the green wire free. "Goddammit."