#michael f.

I hope and I pray, when I still have it in my heart to pray to God, that Louis and I won't be here for long. Look, I've accepted that I'll never feel the sun on my face during a sunny afternoon. Not now, not ever again. 

But, hell, it's dreary here! Before I fall asleep—we've found a boarding house where they don't ask questions and we're able to avoid daylight uninterrupted—I hear the rain pattering on the roof. When I wake up? Rain on the roof! It never ends. 

Claudia looks pitiful from a distance—damn near drowned. Still, she regards the man with an unwavering scrutiny—only blinking when water pools on her eyelashes and blurs her vision.

"Why's it gotta be poor him?"

She tilts her head.

HUBERT ONLY WANTED TO SEE A NICE PLAY IN A NICE, NEW THEATRE.

He immediately regrets intervening in any way. It's typically not in his nature to do so. Being abroad had him feeling bold, briefly. The hat might have something to do with it, too. He felt confident and handsome when he left the hotel this afternoon, which had been confronted from a castle and was quite glamorous.