"You know, I-I think I agree. I think I'd be glad to fill my calendar that way."
Reading and sharing one of Crichton's passions sounds like a very lovely and wholesome replacement for going out and getting wankered. There we are: new leaf turned over. (The catch is that Arthur had better like Tolkien's prose, or else he'll be in for some very long evenings.)
Arthur gropes inside the night-stand; the cold and solid cylinder that is the metal tin is easy to identify. It's even easier when the lid is off, given how strong this stuff smells. The whiff of it takes him back to his rocky first experience with the stuff; he's sort of hoping he can skip that part this time, now that he knows what to expect.
"Here." The tin is held aloft. "God," he adds, tone philosophical, "if you'd asked me a few months ago what I, I'd be doing with my Christmas day, I'm not sure that settling in with a reefer could have been further from my mind."
(He would have said he'd be spending it quietly with Parker. But, uh, let's not introduce that thought into the mix.)
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Reading and sharing one of Crichton's passions sounds like a very lovely and wholesome replacement for going out and getting wankered. There we are: new leaf turned over. (The catch is that Arthur had better like Tolkien's prose, or else he'll be in for some very long evenings.)
Arthur gropes inside the night-stand; the cold and solid cylinder that is the metal tin is easy to identify. It's even easier when the lid is off, given how strong this stuff smells. The whiff of it takes him back to his rocky first experience with the stuff; he's sort of hoping he can skip that part this time, now that he knows what to expect.
"Here." The tin is held aloft. "God," he adds, tone philosophical, "if you'd asked me a few months ago what I, I'd be doing with my Christmas day, I'm not sure that settling in with a reefer could have been further from my mind."
(He would have said he'd be spending it quietly with Parker. But, uh, let's not introduce that thought into the mix.)