[He's in the way on your sidewalks...leaning against a wall, standing or sitting. The rich are having a great time in this decade but the poor? Not quite so much. And this is one of the worst sort of the poor. Wild eyed, maddened expression, hunched into a heavy grey overcoat and holding a pageboy cap in hands covered in ratty grey wool fingerless
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"One could say that, yes." Hard times. if an asylum fits into your definition of that.
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Harry!
[She waves and then takes a deep breath, holds it to avoid the smell and then leans in to press a kiss to his cheek.]
How are you feeling?
[And she holds the soup and the paper bag out for him.]
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Lucy.
[He pats her arm gently when she kisses him.]
As well as can be expected, my dear. Yourself?
[The 'my dear' is a symptom of his upbringing rather than any confusion. He's mostly lucid today. He reaches out to take the jar and bag from her.]
Thank you.
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[And she twirls in a circle, making the fringed short dress she's wearing flare out about her thighs]
Swanky new dress and everything. Whaddya think?
[She smiles at him then takes up a spot leaning against the wall next to him. Lucy enjoys Harry's company even if he is a little crazy. Half the time she thinks she's crazy too so they sort of fit.]
You got somewhere to be tonight?
[It's more of her checking up on him than asking what his agenda for the evening is. She wants to make sure he's got a spot to go and get out of the cold.]
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[His smile changes to a little bit of a hunted expression.]
Here. Anywhere. I'm not going back to the institute, you know that, I don't want to be restrained. [pause] I'll find an unused doorway or the like. Same as always.
[He's being polite, so he puts the sandwich away in his pocket. But he opens up the jar and starts to drink straight from it. trying not to slurp. Manners.]
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