[The background noise of John talking to Mary over the phone faded to a dull buzzing at the base of his skull a long while back. He listened long enough to know that John was, as always, fussing. It was futile. Mary was a competent woman, the baby was unlikely to do anything but sleep, poo, and perhaps dribble, and so there was no reason to hover over either as though the snow could hurt them.
He barely even heard John when the words stopped being directed at Mary and started being directed at him instead. He certainly didn't give any indication that he heard. He remained standing in the centre of the kitchen, frowning at the rest of the assembled food as if silently threatening it with the same fate the pot of stew had suffered.]
It doesn't make any sense.
[A low mutter to himself, one hand coming up to rub vigorously over the top of his head and mess his hair up as he spoke.]
Perhaps viscosity has something to do with the rate-- no, that's a fool's errand. Think. Think.
no subject
He barely even heard John when the words stopped being directed at Mary and started being directed at him instead. He certainly didn't give any indication that he heard. He remained standing in the centre of the kitchen, frowning at the rest of the assembled food as if silently threatening it with the same fate the pot of stew had suffered.]
It doesn't make any sense.
[A low mutter to himself, one hand coming up to rub vigorously over the top of his head and mess his hair up as he spoke.]
Perhaps viscosity has something to do with the rate-- no, that's a fool's errand. Think. Think.