|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2018 10:45 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 01, 2018 6:24 pm
Banks - moving to the Kitchen
“I hear they have green pancakes out now - what’ll they think of next?”
He knew he was rambling, a tendency he fell into when he was either nervous or excited. In this case, he was feeling practically petrified, so talk of IHOP and milkshakes seemed to be an adequate distraction to keep his focus away from the fact someone had just died in the house and that they were essentially trapped among a group of people he trusted about as far as he could throw them.
Mory slipped her way between the two men, the teenage girl grabbing his hand with an anxious grip. He squeezed back in a moment of paternal affection - while she was Kavinsky’s pseudo-child in all but the legal sense at this point, she’d somehow managed to worm her way into the selfish lawyer’s heart and he was unable to do anything but feel protective of the scared girl. “I’m thinking omelette, myself. Dinner for breakfast, always a classic.”
Willingly, he followed behind the other two as they made their way into the kitchen. Kavinsky was being the Macho Dad (talk about sweet) and taking Mory under his figurative wing, fingers taking hold of Banks’ costume to ensure the older man didn’t fall behind, disappearing into the darkness and sea of strangers.
“Power in numbers,” he babbled quietly, hazel eyes shifting around nervously.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
