[ eggsy moves. thomas stays still. he stays in his armchair, hands on his thighs. eggsy wanders over, wanders, and thomas tips his head back and looks up at him, fingers twitching once before stilling again.
when he stands, it's slow. not the movements of an old man but something deliberate. this isn't where he'd seen the evening going. where he'd seen his revelation going -- but there's a part of thomas nightingale that was young once and remembers it still, a part that enjoys rubgy and boxing and eggsy's sly smile more than a man of his age and standing perhaps should. ]
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when he stands, it's slow. not the movements of an old man but something deliberate. this isn't where he'd seen the evening going. where he'd seen his revelation going -- but there's a part of thomas nightingale that was young once and remembers it still, a part that enjoys rubgy and boxing and eggsy's sly smile more than a man of his age and standing perhaps should. ]