I knew he was bothered. Mitch wasn't even looking at Igor as he calmed the beasts of Whitechapel with his craft.
"I am well my darling, I promise you" he lied. No use, I knew better— after all I had been causing him havoc for the past six years.
Igor, in the meantime, pretended not to follow and continued to play
as if his life depended on it, which in those parts might actually have
been a good move; anything could spark the anger of the East Enders in
the 1880s.
That bloody violin made me thirsty. Thirst ! that's it! I thought. that will ease Mitch's mood!
But no...not even whisky. Mitch slouched over the table, eyes lost, not even holding his glass, or me for that matter. I understood, of course. We belonged to the same tribe. I would have felt equally broken had I been in his shoes, but I wasn't; I was one of the lucky ones, and I knew that irritated him further.
But nevermind the bollocks! the fact of the pudding was Mitch was devastated about another baby. I know, I am also a time traveller from the future, I also feel lust and joy when I am close to some of them, but at the same time I am human! I started brewing anger as he sat there like a wet noodle.
Put yourself together, Freckles! I cheered myself up; this was what coupling is all about! "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health and in fucked up humor"
That's it! I thought. As the Spaniards say, 'time to grasp the bull by the horns! though in this case I was the one wearing a good pair.
I left my glass on the sticky table and sat closer to him, holding his hands on mine.
"My darling, I know. I know I did it first. I know mine is a beast; that the graphics are shocking. I know it goes 3,000 frames per second when we play games; I know the keyboard shines in the dark; but baby... in only twenty four hours you will have a laptop just like mine"
Mitch let go off my hands. He sat very straight and said:
"What are you saying woman!" he served himself another drink, smirked and hissed "MY NEW LAPTOP IS THE BEST"
