LOCATION: Ice Cream Shop WHO: @softlysaffron
Bartholomew Reynolds had arrived nearly fifteen minutes early, seated at one of the little wrought iron tables outside the ice cream shop with his reading glasses perched low on his nose staring down at the newspaper. The older man looked every bit as composed and dignified as always, though the second he spotted Saffron approaching down the sidewalk, his entire expression softened in a way reserved only for family. “There’s my girl,” he greeted warmly as he pushed himself to stand, opening his arms without hesitation for a hug. “I was beginning to think I’d have to eat ice cream all by myself, which at my age is a dangerous game.” The tease came with a quiet chuckle before he motioned toward the counter inside. “C’mon then, sweetheart. You can help an old man decide between pistachio and butter pecan.”