#lia01

James looked down at the plate in front of him. It was fair to say that he was not a cook: he hadn’t inherited his grandmother’s abilities, nor had he traveled abroad like his brother. Though, admittedly, even if he had, cooking would have been far from his focus. Still, you’d have thought James would have learned how to prepare something as simple as a cooked chicken. “Sorry,” he started, fingertips tapping against the counter as his shoulder shrugged high, “thought if I went higher, I could cook it shorter. Not right?” Though he asked it, the grimace James wore was proof that he knew the answer. “Prob’ly best ‘ta go for some take in then, yea?”

It was most usually a safe bet that Sidney could be found somewhere in his theater, at least during business hours. Often he was still there long after as well. There was always work that needed done, but that was a never-ending, perpetual pile and Sidney had learned a long time ago it was better to delegate as much as he could. No matter how much time he poured into it, he’d never reach the end. 

Still, even if he was only hiding in his office watching something on his computer, he preferred his theater to anywhere else in the city. His office was a cosy affair, bookshelves lining the back wall and a large couch taking up much of the rest of the floorspace, and it the benefit of being up a narrow staircase and down an unmarked hall, so typically he was only disturbed by people who knew how to find him, and that was almost always a pleasant surprise. Though there were always exceptions.