≈ meadowview farm. with @rorysanderson
Farm animals were Ophelia’s latest obsession. Goats specifically. When she had informed Roman of that, all he could do was laugh in her face, because of course he would. Still, his apparent taunting had left her upset enough that he couldn’t help the wave of guilt wash over him, and asked her how he could make it up to her in a desperate attempt to not fall out with her. Which, in hindsight, was probably her plan all along.
Note to self, Roman grumbled internally as he trudged along next to his smug little sister at the farm, guilt was weakness. Weakness was meant to be weeded out. Weakness got you spending one of your few days off at the fucking petting zoo.
He was sure Meadowview Farm was fine for families or people really into knowing how cows and sheep spent their days, but for two siblings on the wrong end of forty, who individually had enough money in their pockets to do a full private tour of a Kenyan safari, it just seemed…crap really. The only silver lining was that Illinois summers seemed more-or-less dry. If they were in England, they’d be wading through boggy mud. There were also llamas, which Roman supposed wasn’t too bad. Something different, interesting enough that it had the bassist reading the placards. “Warning, may spit unprovoked. Maybe I should put that sign up in the shop — oh.” The humiliation set in almost immediately, thinking he was addressing Ophelia only for his sister to have swan off to talk to one of the keepers about some boring animal factoid, instead finding him talking to a man about his age instead. Still, maybe he’d heed warning about the spitting thing, and just fuck off all the same.
