Re: Cece & Allen | At the Clinic
What was all this? Two people entered the little sickroom: Miss Moreau with driver in tow, carrying a massive armful of flowers. Allen set aside his journal, in which he'd been writing to his eldest nephew, to marvel at the display that wealthy people could afford to make of a stay in the hospital. Goodness gracious -- he hadn't even been sure that Miss Moreau would really want to come, much less all this!
"Miss Moreau -- why, my goodness! How thoughtful!" He might have offered more effusive praise, but remembered how rich people didn't do that, so stopped himself there. He hoped his surprise and pleasure had showed on his expression when she first came into the room, though. "Thank you. This is... well. My goodness." Allen couldn't help but beam, but modestly covered the expression by rubbing his chin. Touching his face hurt enough to make him stop grinning like an idiot, which was probably for the best.
"You met Miss Pines, then? Yes, ingenious is really the right word. My goodness. Well. This is very nice." He wasn't sure where to go from there, so he stopped himself. "Won't you have a seat?"