I’ve been over at playingjuliet if you were wondering
It was actually forty eight photographs. And Sebastian’s poses were rather impressive. And some of them just downright filthy. Jim has already made a dozen copies of each.
Sebastian learns just how attached Jim is to his clothing collection, when he returns from a job with a bleeding arm and they brush past each other. Jim hasn’t spoken to him face to face in three days. The waistcoat sits on the dining table, a bloodied memorial.
Jim isn’t dealing well with the London heatwave, and Sebastian walking around the house, slick and half-naked, is making him even more irritable and uncomfortable. He sits, brooding, beside a window in his suit, scowling at the world.
Sebastian has a terrible fear of storms, probably something to do with his mother leaving during a bout of thunder and lightning when he was small. He won’t admit to it for love nor money, and Jim finds it rather sweet. Big, tough sniper is frightened of a little rain and light.