Lechance

Three o'clock Saturday afternoon saw Patrick making his first call to the Beloveds' hotel, his arm tucked around a rather extravagent bouquet of California fuschia intermixed with wild grasses for bulk. It might be a little over the top he realised, as he waited in the parlour he'd been shown into for Michael to appear, but it was too late now. He'd wanted to impress. Especially as his one suit was old and worn and not really up to the job of impressing anyone at all.

He was clean and as smart as he could be, though, unruly hair combed and slicked back as much as possible. And he had his smile to rely on. He always had his smile.