@tarttmum [ joss ] asked //
' ah mate, that was a hell of a goal from maguire the other day, weren't it? '
It's been a few days. Long enough for Jamie to calm down, to breathe, to process everything that happened. He'd rang his mum up, he'd had talks with Roy, with Tanya, with Keeley, with the people he cared about. What happened had happened. But England had still won. Jamie had opened the scoring himself, had ensured the second goal himself. Had nearly ensured a third, if Jon's kick had been a little more on target. The rage inside of him, the Tartt anger, has died down to the low flame it usually holds, right at the pit of his gut. It's an anger he'll never be able to extinguish, an anger he's deeply, truly ashamed he carries, but it's one that he knows how to control. One that doesn't flare to life at any offhand comment the way his father's flame does. Instead of that, he looks over at Joss, raises an eyebrow. He knows exactly who Josiah Wallace-Mount is. Jamie's very good at keeping up to date on the Prem, on who's on what team, on who behaves a certain way. He knows Mount. But, instead of saying any of that, instead of admitting to any of that, he just purses his lips up, gives him a once-over, then speaks. "Who are you?"
