Barney couldn't help feeling a little like he'd just stepped into something beyond his depth and understanding, as he looked over at Ghastly. It was a ridiculous feeling to have, especially since he wasn't handing out his own phone number or anything. Just receiving one. From a complete and total stranger. A number that he was supposed to use... when, exactly? When he wanted a bit of hope?
The stab wound in Solomon's leg swam back into his vision, but Barney set it firmly aside for now. Replaced it with the memory of Allie's face when she got Nicholas, when she was talking to Ghastly, when Dad hugged her. If that wasn't hope, Barney didn't know what was.
He gave Ghastly an uncertain smile. "Guess I'll be needing your phone number, then."
"Sure thing." Ghastly took a small business card from his pocket and held it out. There was no little picture on it, no logo, no embellishment - just Bespoke Tailors in plain lettering, and then an address and a phone number. "If you're going to drop by, though," he continued, "give me a call first. Might have to clean up the shop."
Barney looked from Ghastly, to the card, and then back to Ghastly again. "You're a tailor?"
"Yep. My father was, too. And his father before that. That's my mobile number, though, so you'll reach me anytime, anywhere." Ghastly paused, and then observed Barney quietly, like he was trying to decide on something. Barney frowned under the scrutiny, opened his mouth to ask what it was about, and then Ghastly shrugged before Barney could say a word. "Between you and me, though, praying might get a faster response."
"Right," Barney responded slowly. Praying. If that was the kind of hope these strange people were peddling, he could really do without it. Still, no harm in seeming grateful, especially since he was grateful. "Thank you, too. You guys take care."
no subject
The stab wound in Solomon's leg swam back into his vision, but Barney set it firmly aside for now. Replaced it with the memory of Allie's face when she got Nicholas, when she was talking to Ghastly, when Dad hugged her. If that wasn't hope, Barney didn't know what was.
He gave Ghastly an uncertain smile. "Guess I'll be needing your phone number, then."
"Sure thing." Ghastly took a small business card from his pocket and held it out. There was no little picture on it, no logo, no embellishment - just Bespoke Tailors in plain lettering, and then an address and a phone number. "If you're going to drop by, though," he continued, "give me a call first. Might have to clean up the shop."
Barney looked from Ghastly, to the card, and then back to Ghastly again. "You're a tailor?"
"Yep. My father was, too. And his father before that. That's my mobile number, though, so you'll reach me anytime, anywhere." Ghastly paused, and then observed Barney quietly, like he was trying to decide on something. Barney frowned under the scrutiny, opened his mouth to ask what it was about, and then Ghastly shrugged before Barney could say a word. "Between you and me, though, praying might get a faster response."
"Right," Barney responded slowly. Praying. If that was the kind of hope these strange people were peddling, he could really do without it. Still, no harm in seeming grateful, especially since he was grateful. "Thank you, too. You guys take care."