#bridglar week

"Early morning?" Francis asks. 

John nods, stands up and pushes his chair back in. "Moving into the new storefront tomorrow, first thing."

Francis makes a dismissive noise, finishes his whisky. "It’s not the first of the month until Monday."

John smiles fondly. "I think my landlord’s new--he tucked the keys under the door of my flat last week, left a note saying I could move in whenever I liked. Tomorrow was the best I could do with the movers, though."

Francis arches his eyebrow, his skepticism writ clearly all over his face. "Do you think he knows what he's doing, letting you move in early?"

John pauses, considers. "He must feel comfortable with any of the associated risks." Thinks on it a moment while he picks up his glass, swirls the whisky around the bottom of it, and sets it back down without drinking. Adds, "He sounds young."

"Oh jaysus," Francis says, all the Irish pouring out in his voice. "You haven't even met him yet?"

"It's all been email or text," John says. He shrugs, retrieves his leather jacket from the back of his chair and puts it on. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

For @bridglarweek -- the fic is still in progress, but I wanted to share the aesthetic of the thing with the moodboard/excerpt.