Aug 7, 2024
≈ finest catch stall, farmer’s market. with @theobailey
There wasn’t much Roman could do with having to keep the splint on his hand multiple hours a day, but he could still run errands. Ophelia was on some phase or another with her diet, and left him the world’s longest laundry list of things to get. Most notably, fresh fish, preferably from the stall at the market. So, that Wednesday, splint on and ready to go, Roman braved the crowds of the Blue Harbor to get shit done.
When at the stall, he nodded politely at a familiar face, waiting to be served by the fishmonger manning the booth. The awkward silence threatened to seep in, so he turned back to the other man also waiting. “Hot day right?”