Who. Hank Potts & Damon Sweet. What. Damon gets evicted. Hank earns an unexpected house guest. When. Tuesday evening. Where. Hank's home, Edinburgh, Scotland. Warnings. Awkwardness, perhaps mild language, stuttering. C'mon, it's these two. PG at the most.
Hank rarely had visitors. In fact, in the past month, the only visitor was the postman, and even then, all he did was ring the bell and trot along on his merry way. These days, this was something Hank seemed accustomed to. With both Pan and Lyra as his companions, he couldn't consider himself a lonely person at all. In fact, he enjoyed the company the three of them kept. The truth was, though, that he did sometimes find himself missing conversations with those around his age. He wondered if one day he would forget how to speak to other adults altogether. It became so easy to get lost in the ideas and fantastical whims of Lyra's young mind, that he oftentimes forgot how hold he truly was.
The knock on his front door caused him to look up from his desk. Pan, in the form of a small bird, touched down on Hank's shoulder. Suddenly, the only noise that sounded was the soft hum of Beethoven's 5th coming from the speaker system Hank had wired into every room within his home. Who d'you think it is? Hank slipped the pair of spectacles from the bridge of his nose and set them down on his desktop. "I haven't the foggiest," he said softly, and stood up from his chair. His joints popped, it having been several hours since the last time he stood on his own two feet, and he gave an inaudible groan. It en't the postman, is it?
That same knock sounded again, and his brows elevated across the spread of his forehead. Bossy, en't they? "Sure sounds like it, doesn't it?" Hank chuckled to himself, running a hand through his hair. He probably looked a right mess. His white, button-up shirt wasn't tucked into his black trousers, and instead of shoes, he wore house slippers. He attempted to smooth down his strands, just in case, and double-checked his appearance in the foyer's mirror. Another knock rang out through the hall and this time, he called out, "Coming, I'm coming." Hank opened the door up without a quick peek through the peephole and his eyes widened at the sight standing in his doorway.
"D-Damon, this is a surprise. We didn't have a meeting, did we?" Suddenly, he found himself tucking his shirt tails into his pants and all collected cool gone from sight. It's Iorek Byrnison!