Was it a natural evolution in style that coincidentally arrived with the new neighbors, or something more sinister? After years of artistic drought, she had no choice but to embrace her compulsion to draw large-scale nudes from the rear.
Dean had taken a walk while Seamus was at mass, trying to find good coffee, pastries, and groceries. They all proved fairly easy to find, though, and he was relieved to discover that he really liked about nine different kinds of French pastry that he didn’t know existed.
When Seamus got out of the church, Dean was sitting on a bench nearby with a box full of Beignet.
“Hey, do you come here often?” He smirked, patting the bench next to him. “Because I am looking for an Irish bloke to come and eat half of these ridiculous pastries and you seem to fit that description.”
He grinned. “I am also hoping that said Irish bloke likes coffee with cinnamon because I have one here and I can’t drink that shit.”