Who: Charles Foster Offdensen and Skwisgaar the Elder. What: A little chit, a little chat. When: Just now. You missed it. Where: Charles' office. Warnings: Bad words.
The wedding was only a few days off, and Charles was taking it easy. It had been a frantic few weeks, but now things were finally settling down and he could breathe.
He was happy for Skwisgaar. He really was. He knew that everything was going to be wonderful and happy and lah-dee-fucking-dah, but he couldn't help but put on his worried face at the least opportune moments, like this one. He'd seen Skwisgaar under pressure. It never ended well. In fact, it almost always ended with barbecue sauce, for some reason.
BUT STILL.
There he sat, rolling a cigarette (a practically unknown vice, oh no) between his fingers distractedly.