"Terry." He rolled it around in his mouth for a minute, face scrunched in contemplation. He gave Noah a suspicious side-glance. "You're not gonna call him that stupid nickname, are you?" Terry Cloth. He couldn't understand why his dad's friends thought that was funny. Even as a kid he remembered thinking to himself that old people were lame as hell if that's what cracked them up. And then he'd go and tell fart jokes. So hey, to each their own.
"As long as you stay away from that, then yea. It's a good name. Terry Boot. Future Quidditch star." Wouldn't that just kill Noah? He was waiting for the priceless reaction when they were suddenly interrupted, and he followed his brother's gaze to the healer standing before them. In his arms was a small lumpy bundle... He clapped a hand down hard on Noah's back and grinned widely. "You're a daddy! How fucking weird is that?"
(Read comments)
Post a comment in response:
scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by 
hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status
