Who: Colt and Anton What: Tea and cookies Where: The Academy When: This morning Warnings: Probably language, knowing Colt.
When time came for Colt's meeting with Anton Sparke, there wasn't a damn cookie in sight. Hell, there wasn't any tea, either. There was, however, a bottle of double malt whiskey, iced tumblers and a box of cigars. He'd instructed the guard on duty to bring Anton the long way 'round, around the rotunda and past the classrooms, which were filled at that time of day.
He was in a good mood, which was happening more and more often since he'd gotten back into the swing of physical therapy and managed to accept that the eyesore brace on his leg actually meant a significant reduction in pain, especially early on in the day. Hell, he felt almost normal, and for Colt that was one hell of a thing to feel like.
He was sitting in his office, reading a letter about his father's upcoming parole hearing, and even that wasn't rubbing him the way it normally did. He'd call the lawyer this time, maybe not fly to New York his own damnself.