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Oct. 29th, 2013 09:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_mongooseHe hasn't made many pies in his lifetime.
Fish, Will is good at. Baked, fried, pan-seared, Will's made them every which way, but lately the gutting holds no appeal. Besides, pie is the one good memory Will has of that day that began in the middle of the road. Pie is what he owes her.
Standing in front of Sookie's door, Will runs a hand over his rumpled clothes, listening in consternation to the pills rattling in his pocket until they settle. The pie's not even warm anymore after its trek across town, but it's no more than an hour old, fresh and clutched between Will's hands beneath a checkered towel.
With a last sigh, Will adjust his glasses and knocks.
Fish, Will is good at. Baked, fried, pan-seared, Will's made them every which way, but lately the gutting holds no appeal. Besides, pie is the one good memory Will has of that day that began in the middle of the road. Pie is what he owes her.
Standing in front of Sookie's door, Will runs a hand over his rumpled clothes, listening in consternation to the pills rattling in his pocket until they settle. The pie's not even warm anymore after its trek across town, but it's no more than an hour old, fresh and clutched between Will's hands beneath a checkered towel.
With a last sigh, Will adjust his glasses and knocks.
