Meeting Mother Dearest
Subject: Meeting Mother Where: Harry's townhouse Who: Harry Fisher Warnings: Probably some language so PG-13 Open To: Anna, Nell, Mary perhaps
It was a bloody awful night. Rain lashed at the windows, and the wind howled down the chimney, as if attempted to blow out the fires set in their grates. It was the sort of night the world and his wife deserved to be tucked up warm inside, away from the battering elements, with good company and good booze to keep their mind off of the wet and cold beyond.
That, at least, was how Harry Fisher thought of it, with a hot cup of coffee in his hand as he surveyed the weather from the window, taking a swallow of the hot liquid, turning away from it after the moment and moving back towards the chairs and settling down again in front of the fire, next to Nell, smiling at him. "Bloody horrible night." He said, to the boy, only draped in a wrap after their earlier activities. Harry was more glad than he could say than Nell was here with him now, and not out there trying to find punters or a warm bed of the night. Nell deserved somewhere warm, somewhere near to Harry. "Bed-time soon." He added, draining his cup and setting it down on the table besides them, "You look like you could do with a rest."