Drop the other glove
When: April 17th
Where: Old Cider Factory
Status: Closed for @ira-vaisman
āYou are an absolutely awful-ā as soon as the factory doors opened, and Iraās familiar figure stepped inside, Samuel threw a glove flying through the air at him āHorrible person, Ira Vaisman!ā. Silence. A moment later, an unplanned chuckle came out of him.Ā
Less than a week ago he received his birthday gift from Ira, a pair of his old waiting gloves, and a task, and a comment, of course he had to add a comment. P.S. Try not to touch yourself while wearing them. Stupid Ira, always making him flustered. It wasnāt even that bad, considering what else he couldāve said, but he still blushed deeply. A blush that was not gone by the time he was trying to pass quickly through his parents to his room, and deepening by him accidentally dropping the card attached to the package. His mother, in a worried voice, asked what was wrong, and went to pick the note up, before Samuel quickly noticed her and picked it back up instead, awkwardly pocketing it while making an excuse on how it wasnāt important, just a gift from a friend, and a note he wrote him back, something about a new book about Chess techniques. He was probably not very convincing in his haste, but his parents let him be. Heād been planning how to āconfrontā Ira about it ever since. This is not how he planned to do it.
āMy mother nearly read your note!ā he stepped closer him, enough to close the gap between them, and poked an accusatory finger into his chest.Ā āShe nearly picked it up and nearly readā pokeĀ āyourā pokeĀ ānoteā poke.
