(Untitled)

[thegoodprince]

My God...

I'm sure you all could... find some better way to resolve this.

Comments

[ohrosalita]

Are you okay, Fly?

[thegoodprince]

I am.

I don't know how many can say the same, right now.

You're alright, Rose?

[ohrosalita]

There are all kinds of okay, you know.

I'm fine. Waiting for midnight, talking to friends in the hospital, the usual.

[thegoodprince]

Oh.

I hope they're well, too. Do you need anything?

[ohrosalita]

Yeah, I think I do.

[thegoodprince]

Alright. Name it, and I'll try my very best.

[ohrosalita]

Could you tell me a good story? Something that makes you smile. From Fabletown, maybe.

[thegoodprince]

Oh, um... Okay. There's a lot, I guess, and it might not be too much that'll seem like anything to anyone else, but let me see.

How about when I first learned to drive?

[ohrosalita]

Sure, that'll work. Did you pass your test first time?

[thegoodprince]

Barely. I didn't have to get a licence, at first, because it wasn't really a law for a couple of years, but I didn't get very good at it, for a while. I hit Mrs. Hubbard's fence at the farm, my first try at it.

[ohrosalita]

As in old mother Hubbard? Fly, the poem makes it sound like she's got enough problems.

[thegoodprince]

I fixed it! Went back and put it good as new.

[ohrosalita]

I hope so, you wouldn't want the dog getting out, too.

[thegoodprince]

Oh, not at all.

[ohrosalita]

I drive like a lunatic, still. It's why I only every buy myself wrecks, even though we can afford better now.

[thegoodprince]

I never had my own car. We've just got the supply truck now, and to the farm and back is nearly the only driving I ever had to do. Driving's not much use in New York City, really, especially considering that I spent most of my time on Bullfinch Street.