#sigma01

“Half of these are mine.“ It came out somewhere between a warning and statement, somewhat at odds with the bored glance he gave the other old man. There must have been dozens of pigeons surrounding Ludwig's bench, pecking away at thrown seeds or otherwise loitering. Several looked domesticated and few were disturbed at all by the armored newcomer.

No response.

“Sigma!”

Nothing.

“Sigmund.”

He whips around in his worn out swivel chair, and it’s kind of funny since he’s so big and the chair is so small.

She finally has the undivided attention she deserves.

“Look here.” But he’s already looking at her.

She holds her phone up, keeping it still as she waits for his face to register on the screen. Any complaints or annoyances he might have expressed are mostly ignored. Her gaze remains fixed on her phone, brows furrowed in frustrated concentration.

“Are you still talking?”