Mycroft is not happy today. This is mostly because he found out last night that his oldest son had done something as pig-headed as start a fight with another boy over something entirely pointless
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Mycroft drinks some of the tea. Most people refuse the tea. He's used to that.
"Yes," he says. "That rather unfortunate incident was exactly what I was hoping to discuss, actually. It's a good thing my brother was nearby; I shan't want to think what might have happened otherwise."
"I don't have any choice but to bear it, but yes, it is very painful." Fry says, sitting down. "Co-codamol's worn off and I can't take it for another hour."
"Would you like some tea?" Mycroft asks. "It's not exactly been proven by medical science, but it may help. After all, if you have to live like this for six weeks, you might as well find a way to cope."
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He spots Mycroft and wanders over.
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Oh, look. The table is set for tea for two.
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Fry has advised him not to take the tea.
"Thank you. I take it you've been told about the incident the other night."
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"Yes," he says. "That rather unfortunate incident was exactly what I was hoping to discuss, actually. It's a good thing my brother was nearby; I shan't want to think what might have happened otherwise."
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Mycroft eventually notices the man and puts on his friendly smile.
"Tea?" he offers.
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He gets his knee up on a chair.
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He takes a small sip of his own tea.
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