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Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Awww, and I would have made such a good angel," Dean said pouting very hard and trying to give Seamus his most winning puppy-dog inspired expression for several long seconds before breaking into a grin. "Glad I'm fun, and I don't much fancy the lack of dick thing anyway," he said, scrunching his face up in distaste.

He looked around fruitlessly for something Seamus could do. "Sorry, bugger all unless you want a cup of tea. I'm basically waiting to dump the chives in twenty seconds before it's done," he said, nodding to the pile of tiny green tubes he'd chopped earlier.

"Yeah, you can say that again. Next year I'll maybe try for a little less depth plumbing at the meeting, or at least taking my potion before," he said sheepishly. He knew that his friends didn't really have any quarrels with taking care of him when his PTSD flared up, but a little prevention would probably have removed the necessity, or at least the urgency of it.

"Best bit of the year?" he asked innocently, knowing full-well that his birthday coming up and was probably what he was referring to. He could play dumb though, when he wanted to.