PSL

[fucking_gentleman]

Harry is actually enjoying the sunshine by the Thames.

Well, truthfully, there's no real sunshine and no one enjoys the Thames, but he's determined to not be in the office, so here he is, sitting in the window of his favourite bakery and sipping at his coffee.

He's people watching, which was always a hobby of his, but now has become a survival mechanism to fend of do gooders and 'helpful' people who see the twisted scar along his temple, the streak of silver it put into his hair, the patch tucked underneath his glasses and they make assumptions.

And his impulse control isn't quite what it was, which means occasionally he's been known to react to a slow and loud "Can I help you?" with a leg trip and toe of his shoe into their ribs.

By accident, of course.

But now, he's mostly curious about the fellow who seems to be somewhat determinedly heading to the river's edge.

Comments

[fucking_gentleman]

"Ah." He changed mental gears again.

"In which case, I know a lovely bakery where I was planning on visiting to calm down from my disagreement. You may join me. Hold that door, please."

And, in a fit of pique, Harry slides his glasses off, tucking them into his pocket.

[residu]

"Oh...yeah. Sure." That's an easy task to focus on in spite of how unpleasant the air is right now. Getting out of the shop will help, and hey; a bakery means maybe he can pay back that coffee from before a little easier. He was wondering how he's approach the subject of 'let me take you out, but in a way that's to thank you for saving my life and all' without it coming out weird.

So this works, and once Harry's through he'll let the door swing closed and fall into step alongside him.

[fucking_gentleman]

Harry's limp is more pronounced than it was the other day. He has good days and bad days and fighting with Merlin nearly always makes it a bad day.

"Sometimes, having friends you've known for thirty years is not a good thing. You know all the best ways to hurt each other." The bakery isn't too far away, but right now, it's taking everything to focus on just moving forward.

[residu]

"That what that was all about back in there...?" He won't ask for specifics, because he wouldn't have liked it if someone went about inquiring into his fights and such either. The limp though makes him wonder if he should ask if harry wants to slow down--even if he looks rather determined to press forward regardless.

[fucking_gentleman]

"In essence. I've worked at Kingsman for thirty years with Emrys. We were apprentices together. As is clearly evidenced, I was badly injured some months ago. I was on a business trip and got caught in the crossfire outside a rather nasty right wing church. It's had some lingering effects on me."

He speaks about it easily, because he has no shame in what happened to him.

"Emrys wants me to take over administration. He believes I am no longer suitable for other work. Maybe he's right, but it's not his place to make that decision." He's slowed down a bit as he calms.

[residu]

"Oh..." He means that impossible world-scaled riot that had happened. So much had gone wrong and been damaged, so many people lost. How he'd come out of it with little more than bruises and a dislocated finger had been anyone's guess. He assumes that's what Harry means, and that it's affected his ability to 'tailor.'

"I noticed your hands shaking last time. Does it make stitching hard?"

[fucking_gentleman]

Being alone was a good way to avoid it. Those little bursts of violence hadn't lasted long enough for everyone to even find a person to be violent at.

"Nigh impossible to hand stitch." And his lock picking skills have gone to shit.

[residu]

"Guess that really would make being a tailor hard..." He can't imagine what it would be like to find himself unable to do something he liked--at least, he assumes Harry likes it. He seems incredibly passionate about being told to step down from it, at least. "There any chance it'll get better, or...?"

[fucking_gentleman]

"No one really knows. I have good days. I have bad days. Head injuries are fickle. I am lucky, as I am often reminded, to have survived with my mind intact, especially at my age when brain elasticity is dramatically reduced."

[residu]

"Oh...yeah." Part of him wants to ask just what kind of injury he sustained to need a patch and worry about residual damage, but asking feels like a bit too much. He can sympathize with not having your body work the way you want it to, at least on a smaller scale. He has no control over his episodes or fits or what they do to him during and after. "It was pretty rough. That whole day, I mean."

[fucking_gentleman]

"Yes, it was, I imagine. I remember as good as nothing about it, but I have this odd lingering feeling of anxiety when I go into churches now." He doesn't remember what happened, but some part of him does. He's thankful for that amnesia most of the time.

[residu]

Jihwan can sympathize, although part of him is a little envious. Harry may not remember his trauma, but Jihwan can't. It's a dangerous thing to do, and even talking about it can be enough to bring on his ailment. What he wouldn't give to be able to forget it entirely.

"Do you avoid them now then, or...?"

[fucking_gentleman]

"Fortunately easy for me. As an atheist, I rarely have the call to go into churches and I can leave the handling of measuring the few bishop clients to other tailors."

He makes a mental note to actually sit Eggsy down to go through the not quite basics of tailoring. They all need convincing covers and he's been remiss in mentoring the boy.

"Still, I resent being told what to do by anything, even my own trauma."

[residu]

"I know the feeling," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. It's not exactly the same as Harry's, but. "Ever think of trying a sewing machine? Might help."

[fucking_gentleman]

"My dear young man, I use a sewing machine. But some things must simply be hand stitched to achieve the best quality of make."

[residu]

"Oh...." He doesn't see why, but that's probably because he just doesn't know enough about stitching. He'll take Harry's word for it and just send him a short, searching glance.

"Sorry about the motor skills."

[fucking_gentleman]

"Well... thank you, but it really isn't necessary. As I said, I should remember to be grateful that I survived with my mind intact, if not my fine motor skills." He finally gestures them around a corner where the most wonderful, tempting smells are emerging from.

[residu]

It has Jihwan's stomach rumbling audibly as soon as the sweet aroma hits his nose, but he doesn't actually manage to look embarrassed over it or anything. He just shrugs his shoulders and nods.

"Still...seemed like you were upset over it." So as petty and hollow as it might come across, he still felt he should at least offer his condolences. There was nothing to be done for it.

[fucking_gentleman]

"Yes, I suppose. It's more frustration. Emrys is trying to bully me into taking a purely administrative position." He gestures ahead of him with a hand, not with the cane. He's actually using the cane quite heavily. "If you would?"

Get the door, that is.

[residu]

"Huh? Oh--yeah, sorry. Here." Jihwan moves ahead to get it, giving Harry a look of consideration now. He definitely wasn't leaning so heavily on his cane the last time they'd met. Harry hadn't had trouble with the cafe doors then either.

"...You okay?"

[fucking_gentleman]

"Good days. Bad days. I did survive a near point blank nine millimetre to the head." He made his way into the bakery, nodding grateful when the waiter hurried to pull his usual seat for him and he could sink into it.

"My usual tea and whatever you have fresh in the lunch roll selection. And my young friend here...?"

[residu]

"No, that's....I mean. I was gonna treat you this time," Jihwan shakes his head, awkwardly. He's trying to insist but it still doesn't really feel like he's going to get away with this unless Harry lets him. "I'm fine. Just...water."

[fucking_gentleman]

"And a roll for the young man," Harry adds. Really, arguing with him is a pointless exercise.

"I hope your other young man knows about this one," the waiter teases.

"Perish the thought, Andrew. Clearly, at my age, I require two boys to make myself feel like a powerful man. I must swear you to secrecy, however, they don't know about each other."

[residu]

"..........................."

Two boys. There's clearly some sort of inside joke he's missing here, but Jihwan winds up looking all the more awkward and stricken for it, staring between Harry and the waiter. He's not even sure he wants to know.

Why would this guy have another young man?? The heck are they talking about?!

[fucking_gentleman]

The waiter moves away with a chuckle and Harry turns his attention back to Jihwan, smothering down his amusement.

"My protege, Eggsy. I bring him here quite regularly, he's only twenty five. Andrew has taken to calling him my boy toy because of the way he fusses over my health."