#mortimer 1

[wxthin-wxthout]

It figured the most compelling reason he had to visit extended family involved death.

Though maybe 'visit' was too strong a word because he must have exchanged all of fifty words to his relatives. He didn't particularly feel one way or the other for the people in the room, even for the man laid out in the casket, a distant cousin he'd met just twice in his life, neither occasion memorable. He could not grieve with the guests nor speak to any on a conversational level at a funeral, so Nick merely wandered the halls while he waited for the ceremony to begin. He blended in well enough among the murmuring crowds.

But he was not the only one. On turning a corner, Nick bumped into a taller man, nearly falling as he stumbled back. "Pardon me--" he stammered, gathering his bearings. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't see you there." 

@mgrxves

[wxthin-wxthout]

[ coat ]

your muse holds mine’s coat out for them while they put it on.

It’s getting late, but late in New York City is an entirelydifferent word. At around one in the morning on a hopping Saturdaynight, there will be the first brave souls muttering about the time,to the harrumph of the youngest and wildest of attendants. Perhapsthat would be Nick during those parties where everything comestogether just right: his schedule, his mood, his energy level, hiscompany. But tonight is not one of those nights.

Not that company waspoor. He’d shown up alone, lost, and bumped into a familiar face hehadn’t seen in a while, the mortician from that distant familyfuneral. They’d gotten to chatting, nearly shouting over theroaring band, when a mutual decision to leave was reached. Nick’stired already anyway, and admittedly a little drunk. But only alittle.

Mortimer holds hiscoat open for him. Despite his surprise, Nick slides his arms in,somewhat unsteady on his feet. He looks back and smiles. “Thank you.”

[wxthin-wxthout]

“Here, this should warm you up.”

A large, heavy blanket fell upon his soaked shoulders, and Nick shivered and flashed a quiet smile. “Thanks.” Between this and the hot tea in his hands, if he didn’t warm up, there would be cause for concern; but though his teeth chattered and his hair dripped, he could feel the blood moving again to his fingers and toes, and knew all will be well.

“I do apologize for ruining the couch.” He shrugged helplessly, his cheeks rosy in the rising steam of his drink. “The rain just came on so quickly.”

[wxthin-wxthout]

---> (cont.)

Leave it to the mortician to kill him with laughter, Nick noted through chuckles not anywhere remotely fatal; leave it to the writer at heart to exaggerate. Still, his remark tickled him, ever-ticklish inebriated. “I’m the expert at drunkenness then, am I?” Nick asked, smiling in good nature. “Or did you mean poetry?”

@mgrxves