Kirley McCormack-Duke (kirleymcduke) wrote in wished, @ 2010-08-14 21:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | !2003: 08, !complete, kirley mccormack-duke, oliver wood |
Who: Kirley McCormack-Duke and Oliver Wood
What: Having coffee, discussing the pregnancy, NOT making a scene.
When: August 14, 2003 ; late afternoon.
Where: The Lucky Bakery.
Rating/Warning: TBA. Possibly high language.
Ever since coming home from his vacation, Kirley had been a little on edge...at least, with the exception of the night that he’d eaten the ice cream Don sent over. Despite the denial, Kirley was still thoroughly convinced that it was heavily laced with some sort of calming draught. He had come to accept that Meghan was pregnant and that it was Oliver’s. He’d also resolved that killing Oliver was not the best option that he had, considering it wouldn’t make his sister happy. The only thing that mattered to him in the situation was that Meghan didn’t grow to regret this. He wanted her to be as happy as she’d always been...and he planned to support her.
After their initial fight, their second meeting had been much more civil. They had laughed over sweets and had a much better talk. He didn’t know if it was on Wood’s own or if Meghan put him up to it, but Kirley had arranged to have coffee with him. It was still hard to wrap his mind around it...his little sister was having a baby. Honestly, he didn’t have much of anything against Oliver as a person, but he was very choosy about who he approved of when it came to his little sister. No matter what, no matter who it was, no one would ever be good enough for her in his eyes.
Kirley showed up a little bit early for the meeting, ordering his coffee and sitting down with it, lighting a cigarette. He wanted to have time to clear his mind a little before Oliver showed up, though he really didn’t know what they were going to talk about precisely. Sitting in the afternoon sun, he kept his sunglasses on for the sake of hoping fewer people would recognize him, and sipped on the dark and bitter drink in his mug. His fingers twitched out the rhythm of a new melody against the table, absently wishing he had a guitar. He really just wanted to get on with this.