At the wake - Parry and Addi
It had been years since Parry had been to a funeral. Not since just after the war. He'd been a lot younger then and hadn't been as close to any of the deceased as he was to Phillip.
Phillip. How the fuck had this actually happened? The world had lost a good man far too soon.
He had cooked for the wake, the least he could do. Parry always made too much food as a rule of thumb, and this week he had been cooking a lot more and sending it to the Montgomerys. He was much more like his maa and the aunties than he liked to admit. It made him feel useful after losing his best friend and stopped him from scrolling through old texts and trying to remember the sound of his advice.
"Addi." He finally found a moment alone with her, a nearly-empty glass of whiskey in hand. It wasn't his usual tipple, but it seemed to be the drink of the day with so many Montgomerys in attendance. "Any chance of a hug?" He wouldn't ask how she was. There was no point.