[Happy Christmas eve everyone! He's going to be walking around town and such. He's bundled up for the weather, a coat and gloves. He's got a hairpin in as well, clipping his bangs back. Attached to that is a sprig of mistletoe
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[He paused in speaking but continues walking, pursing his lips in thought. He didn't want to begin with something hard, but it would have to be gotten to eventually. Finally he said:]
...you know, before now, I never really heard from you...
[Oh he hated seeing his love that way. While it satisfied him that Francis was finding out the truth it still bothered him to see him upset. He reached over to touch his cheek.]
Ey. Ey. Ess olrigh'. We're pass dat. Ess o'er, we kin talk new.
[He looks up into those emerald eyes he'd once admired so much. That knocked him off his feet when he looked into them. Those wild and passionate eyes.]
Ah ne'er fergot ye Francis. Not fer five minutes while Arthur kept meh prisoner. Ye n Matteh'r oll ah though' aboot. Ah left Matteh sommah mah men tae pr'tect hem but when et came tae comin' fer ye... Ah wonted tae Francis. Ah... Cannae... [This was getting too deep for the moment. Maybe he could try again in a few minutes. Francis was different than anyone else. Barclay would get deep into the whole feelings gambit]
Yer lookin' fer some trouble?
[he stepped over, obviously wanting to be the first troublemaker. And the last of course]
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Why'd ye take et off?
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But why'd ye take et off? Fer.... meh?
[he headed to the door to step out with Francis]
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[He smiles over at him, glad to see the redhead walking next to him.]
I zink...we 'ave some zings to talk about, and I don't need to be stopping to kiss people een ze midle of zem.
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Aye. Ah ken we dae but who' ezzactleh dae ye wont tae talk aboot?
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...you know, before now, I never really heard from you...
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Aye. But not fer lacka tryin'. Tha' bastard blocked anneh attempt at communication
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...so...zat's... Zat's why you never returned my letters...?
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...
Tha Bastard...
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[His brow furrowed deeply. That...he was lucky he was in the catacombs. He grit his teeth.]
...
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[He swallows, and a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold passes through him.]
...I should 'ave...I...
[He shuts his eyes tight.]
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Ey. Ey. Ess olrigh'. We're pass dat. Ess o'er, we kin talk new.
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...
[He nods...and leans into the touch.]
...what do you want to talk about?
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Ah ne'er fergot ye Francis. Not fer five minutes while Arthur kept meh prisoner. Ye n Matteh'r oll ah though' aboot. Ah left Matteh sommah mah men tae pr'tect hem but when et came tae comin' fer ye... Ah wonted tae Francis. Ah... Cannae... [This was getting too deep for the moment. Maybe he could try again in a few minutes. Francis was different than anyone else. Barclay would get deep into the whole feelings gambit]
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