Walt was the first to get his bearings, ushering their small guest in through the door and helping him remove his coat with ease, before sitting him in a plush chair. When he waltzed into the kitchen and returned with the tea trolley laden with everything from sweets to savories, Eve finally found her words again.
“What’s next, slippers and my good whisky?”
“He’s a bit young, don’t you think?” he said, always the straight man. “Though apple juice might achieve a similar aesthetic.”
“Oh, piss off with your ‘aesthetics’ Walter!” She shot a quick look in Hubert’s direction, he was busy trying to fit an entire biscuit in his mouth in one go, and save for a raised brow seemed unfazed by her cursing.