There was a small chance of rain on the island today, but as the weather was still warm enough, that had not stopped the school administration for having the customary brunch outdoors in the park. It just meant some more canopies had been set out, to protect both the alumni as well as all the food and drink on offer from any possible rain
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So yes, he was showing up to the brunch with his own drink. And a neat Peter Wiggin name tag, pinned to his suit.
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"Have we put in enough time here already?"
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He was a bit put off by the relative rags in his younger self's closet, and they didn't fit so well anymore - you could see the tattoos on his skin poking through near the neck and the stomach. But they'd do for now.
He'd be home soon again anyway.
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Years ago, he would've called this feeling 'being unsure what he was even doing here'. Nowadays, the insecurity had largely worn off.
He was just missing the Temple now, was all.
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She was piling her plate pretty high.
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She wasn't sure she'd be sticking around for very long, however. Maybe long enough to catch one or two familiar faces.
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But today she was here, a stern figure sitting at one of the tables, her features sharper than in her childhood and marked with scars. Still thinking, mind you, but she was at least making an attempt to seem less troubled.
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But she'd be social, at least for a little while.
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He doubted she'd catch him at it. But the lie would have unsettled his stomach, so:
"I'm the same age," he said, apologetically. "The island must not have felt like playing with me this weekend. I get the fun of seeing what all of you are going to look like with wrinkles instead."
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Ping down here with anything you need.
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